Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 174: Cuteness Overload

Although he didn’t seem to be exerting much effort, the way the officer’s face drained of all color suggested otherwise.

Was Strasbourg capable of snapping a person’s neck with just one hand?

It certainly seemed possible.

Meanwhile, Marcus remained unfazed, simply turning another page of his newspaper.

"Strasbourg, I hear Sylas has submitted a legal reform proposal to the royal family. Don’t you think it’s rather remarkable for a child?"

"Oh my, that calls for a celebration. To think that Young Master Sylas’ who once so indifferent to politics, has grown so much... Ah, I feel as though I might shed a tear," Strasbourg said, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket.

Yet, his other hand remained firmly locked around the officer’s arm.

The man had started to lose consciousness, his body slumping slightly.

His arm looked like it was about to pop right off.

Poor thing.

"...Hm. Rocco is attending the council as well? What are those clever children of mine scheming?"

"Young Master Rocco at the council? My, my. I only hope his descent into that pit of mongrels does not result in a pile of corpses," Strasbourg murmured with mock concern.

"Indeed. I cannot allow his eyes to be sullied by such filth. But I trust Sylas to handle things well," Marcus replied calmly.

Wait—was his master really going to attend a noble council meeting?

That thought made Georgio anxious.

Knowing him, he would get overwhelmed, surrounded by a room full of serious adults, his eyes darting around in confusion.

Then, once the nerves got to him, he would probably end up crying and clinging to Ragar or his older brother for comfort.

Georgio felt his face burn as he imagined it.

So cute.

Too cute.

He was busy writhing in silent agony over his master’s unbearable adorableness when—

CRASH!

A loud noise from the room made him jolt.

"Guhh!"

"If you have no business here, just leave. If you continue to fill this space with your disgusting, sweat-drenched presence, I will kill you," Strasbourg said flatly.

Oh.

So that was the sound of Strasbourg tossing the officer out of the cell.

Georgio had been startled for nothing.

The man, still trembling from the earlier arm-locking incident, had apparently decided Strasbourg was a walking nightmare.

Breaking into a cold sweat, he stumbled to his feet and bolted down the hallway.

His frantic escape looked just like some lowly livestock running from a superior predator.

Georgio snickered to himself.

Maybe I should hunt him down later, just for fun...

As he entertained that amusing thought, a voice suddenly rang out.

"Alright, that’s enough. You might as well come in now. Having you just lurking there is getting quite irritating, Georgio."

Georgio stiffened.

When... when had Strasbourg noticed him?

Sweat trickled down his back as he cautiously peeked through the window, only to lock eyes with Strasbourg’s smiling face.

Oh no.

Georgio’s own smile twitched awkwardly in response.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Uh... if possible, I’d prefer some herbal tea..."

...

Rocco puffed out his cheeks in mild frustration as he stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Dressed in formal attire for a rare occasion, he looked sharper and cooler than usual.

Well, at least he would have—if not for his exaggerated pout ruining the effect.

A black-themed ensemble consisting of a blouse, Roccoet, and half-length trousers completed his outfit.

A striking amethyst brooch adorned his chest, an unmistakable symbol of the Di Malvento name.

Since today was the day his father’s fate would be decided, this level of dress was probably appropriate.

Still, for an occasion that involved legal discussions in a council chamber, it all felt a bit excessive.

"Mmm... Are we really doing this...?"

A servant placed the finishing touch—a delicate tulle hair accessory—on his head, signaling the end of his preparations.

It slightly obstructed his vision, which was annoying, but there was no getting rid of it.

Sylas had specifically requested it, saying, "I’d rather not let those filthy old men see too much of Rocco’s adorable face."

Rocco sighed.

We’re literally going there just so I can cry in front of them—what difference does it make at this point?

"Rocco, if you truly don’t want to go, you don’t have to. But if you don’t, that means you won’t get a chance to shine and look cool..."

"I’ll do it! I’ll go! I’ll do my best!"

What?

Give up his chance at an ultra-cool hero moment?

Absolutely not.

With a smug grin, Rocco spun around dramatically, turning to face Laxus, who—for some reason—was once again visiting the Di Malvento estate this morning.

"Ta-da!"

He did a little twirl on the spot, striking a pose.

"Ghaaah!!"

Laxus clutched his chest and dramatically fell to his knees, overcome with emotion.

"Rocco, you’re too adorable! Those old raccoons in the council won’t stand a chance—just one look at your sheer cuteness, and they’ll unconsciously vote in favor of the reform! It’s inevitable!"

He clutched his head, muttering feverish predictions.

Rocco didn’t fully understand, but it seemed Laxus was as energetic as ever.

Amused, he began poking Laxus’s collapsed form with a finger when Sylas suddenly entered the room, dressed and ready to go.

No knock.

Typical.

"Rocco, it’s time to leave—wait, are you bringing the bunnie?"

Without hesitation, Sylas stepped over Laxus’s crumpled form like he was nothing more than a rug.

His sharp eyes immediately landed on Mr. Bunny in Rocco’s arms, and his brows furrowed slightly in mild disapproval.

Rocco tilted his head, lowering his eyebrows.

Was Mr. Bunny not allowed to come?

Sylas, noticing the silent plea in Rocco’s expression, quickly shook his head.

"No, it’s not that... It’s just—your cuteness has already reached a lethal threshold. If you bring that plushie along, it might be a straight-up instant kill. I was just concerned."

What?

"...Then again, I suppose it doesn’t really matter if a few men drop dead."

"My bad."

There was a nagging feeling that something about this conversation was slightly off, but there was no time to dwell on it.