Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 254: A Soirée and a Father’s Gift

Tilting his head in confusion, Rocco walked around the desk and approached him—only to be effortlessly scooped up and placed on his father’s lap.

And just like that, they were back in the usual position.

Huh? Huhhh?

Before he could protest, his father pulled him into a tight hug, gently patting his back.

Oh no.

It was that move.

The ridiculously soothing one that always made him super sleepy.

And since it was already nighttime, it was even more effective than usual.

Rocco struggled to fight it, forcing his eyelids to stay open.

No! He refused to fall asleep before finishing his argument!

"I understand that you admire me, but you need to calm down," his father murmured. "There’s no need for you to deliberately making a connections. With your charm, no matter who they are, they’ll come swarming to you like hyenas."

"...Huh?"

"Besides, you have no need to concern yourself with such people. Connection, alliances—those are things you don’t have to worry about."

Rocco repeated his father’s words in his head, trying to process them.

I don’t need to worry about it?

As he slowly pieced together the meaning behind those words, something heavy and frustrating bubbled up inside him.

His body trembled slightly.

His father didn’t understand anything. freewёbnoνel.com

This wasn’t about that.

But if he tried to explain, he already knew—his father would just say the same thing all over again.

Rocco wanted to change the way things had always been.

His cheeks puffed up, eyes brimming with tears, as he started punching his father’s chest over and over in silent protest.

His father’s brows immediately furrowed in concern, his composure slipping as he panicked.

"W-What is it? What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?"

He didn’t even try to stop Rocco, as if to say, It doesn’t hurt at all.

That calm, slightly confused expression only made Rocco more frustrated, and he kept hitting his father’s chest, half out of sheer defiance.

Eventually, seeing that Rocco wasn’t going to stop, his father gently but firmly grabbed his wrists to still him.

Rocco pouted in frustration—he had been effortlessly restrained again!

With an angry huff, he glared up at his father, who still looked completely clueless.

Struggling against his father’s hold, he shouted: "You’re so stupid! Stupid, stupid! That’s exactly what makes me so upset! I want to be useful to everyone too! I don’t want to just sit around being protected all the time!"

"...!!"

His father inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid at Rocco’s tearful outburst.

Sensing his grip loosening, Rocco took the chance to wiggle free and hop off his lap.

He stomped across the room to the door, turned back one last time, and declared:

"I’m going to the soirée! No matter what!"

With that, he spun on his heel and marched out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

As he hurried down the hall, his resolve wavered just a little.

Maybe I said too much...

But he shook off the guilt.

Right now, he had to tell Georgio that the plan was a success!

A few days later, the tension between Rocco and his father remained, and the night of the soirée was drawing closer.

Convinced that his father must hate him now, Rocco had been clinging to Georgio, wailing dramatically about it.

It was in the middle of this emotional meltdown—right as Rocco was furiously tossing cushions at Georgio—that Strasbourg suddenly entered the room.

"Oh dear, am I interrupting something?"

Rocco froze mid-throw, realizing too late that Strasbourg had just walked in on the disaster zone that was his room.

Panicking, he flailed around, scrambling to straighten things up as he ran over to Strasbourg.

"I-It’s nothing! Nothing at all! What’s up?"

He waved his arms frantically, hoping to downplay the chaos.

Strasbourg, as always, wore his usual suspiciously polite smile.

"I see," he replied with a nod, clearly not believing a word.

Then, he turned toward the doorway and clapped his hands a few times.

Almost instantly, several servants entered the room.

Startled, Rocco yelped and instinctively grabbed onto Georgio, eyes darting around in confusion.

The servants silently set down several mannequins, each dressed in elaborate clothing.

Peeking over Georgio’s shoulder, Rocco caught a glimpse of the garments—and they were breathtaking.

"Wh-What is this...?"

Georgio ruffled his hair reassuringly as Rocco hesitantly turned to Strasbourg for an explanation.

At Rocco’s wide-eyed question, Strasbourg’s smile deepened.

"This is a gift from the master," he said cheerfully. "For you to wear at the soirée."

"...Huh?"

Rocco froze in place, his eyes locked onto the outfit displayed on the mannequin.

It was clearly an exquisite, one-of-a-kind piece, crafted with exceptional care and expense.

As he tried to process the meaning behind this unexpected gift, his mouth hung slightly open in disbelief.

The attire looked as if the night sky itself had been woven into fabric.

A deep black blouse with a hint of violet, paired with an ink-black jacket adorned with a subtle shimmer—like scattered stardust.

Upon closer inspection, the shimmering flecks weren’t merely embroidery or glitter, but impossibly small gemstones.

The buttons were all crafted from shell, their natural marbled hues resembling the Milky Way.

The half-pants matched the Georgioet’s fabric, and the shoes—polished to a mirror shine—completed the ensemble.

Every detail had been meticulously chosen to create the perfect evening attire.

Had his father really prepared this for him?

Still half-hidden behind Georgio, Rocco cautiously peeked out before slowly stepping toward the mannequin.

He purposely avoided looking at Strasbourg, who had traded his usual sly grin for a surprisingly gentle smile.

Instead, he focused intently on the garment before him, as if committing every detail to memory.

"...My father prepared this for me?"

"Yes," Strasbourg replied smoothly.

"...Which means..."

Rocco cast him a hopeful glance, searching for confirmation.

Strasbourg didn’t explicitly nod, but his warm smile deepened, the corners of his eyes softening.

That was all the confirmation Rocco needed.

His expression lit up with joy as he turned back to the outfit—his very own, one-of-a-kind formal wear, made just for him by his father.