Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 267: The King’s Gambit

Sylas’s voice suddenly cut off mid-sentence.

His expression stiffened as if he had realized something. "No way..." he muttered, furrowing his brows.

Laxus watching him with amusement, he casually sank into the sofa and took a sip from a cup of tea, utterly relaxed.

"For years, there have been whispers about Don Ferocelli’s so-called neutrality, right? I always thought they might cause trouble at some point, but I never expected them to stir up something this big."

"...It’s true that there were rumors about Don Ferocelli aligning with the anti-monarchist faction. But are you seriously suggesting they’re connected to the king’s brother? That fool hardly seems capable of orchestrating something like this..."

Sylas pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh before finally lowering himself onto the sofa.

Just as he did, Laxus reached into his inner pocket and casually held up a folded piece of paper.

A letter?

"I found this in the Don Ferocelli family head’s bedroom. The sender? Arestiner—the king’s brother."

"Ah... Wait, what?"

"It’s not just a suspicion anymore—it’s a fact." Del Fiore smirked. "That man is overly cautious, so it took years to get my hands on solid proof. I poured all my energy into this, and, well... you can see what a mess that turned out to be."

Sylas’s eyes widened in shock as he snatched the letter and began reading.

After a moment, he exhaled a long sigh, running a hand over his weary face.

"...Don’t tell me you joined the soirée just to get this letter?"

"Hmm? Well, that’s one way to put it. But honestly, my top priority was having a nice time with Rocco. If I happened to find something useful, that would’ve just been a lucky bonus."

Laxus’s easygoing smile remained unwavering, prompting Sylas to sigh even deeper.

"...If Rocco finds out, he’s going to sulk."

Philip barely held back the urge to retort, That’s what you’re worried about?—but now was not the time.

That said, he had to admit—if Rocco ever learned the truth, he would undoubtedly throw a fit.

Rocco appeared to be obedient, but in truth, he was quite the lonely soul.

And, to put it bluntly... his love was intense.

Whether it was love or deep attachment, he had a habit of becoming completely dependent on those he held dear.

Until now, that attachment had been reserved solely for his family.

But that was no longer the case.

Laxus Del Fiore.

There was no doubt that this man had become the person Rocco depended on the most.

That was why Philip completely understood Sylas’s muttered remark.

If Rocco were to find out the truth, he would undoubtedly interpret it as being used as a tool for the mission’s success.

And that would be... very, very bad.

Because when Rocco sulked, it lasted forever.

Sure, his puffed-up cheeks were angelically adorable, but the real problem was that his moodiness would persist for an unbearably long time.

"...Hah. Well, whatever. More importantly, is it true that you know where Rocco is?"

Perhaps because the tension in the air had eased slightly, Sylas allowed his shoulders to relax as he posed the question.

Del Fiore simply flashed a bright smile and nodded.

At the same time, he stood up and began walking toward the window.

Sylas narrowed his eyes suspiciously, watching him closely.

"Hey, what are you doing? Just spit out Rocco’s location already."

As if to emphasize his impatience, his tone grew sharper—bordering on a serious threat.

Laxus, however, only offered a casual "Now, now," as if to pacify him.

Then, as if speaking to himself, he murmured under his breath and gently pushed open the window.

"Looks like it’s finally here."

Right as he opened it, a small yellow bird landed neatly on the windowsill.

It was an unfamiliar sight, and tied to the bird’s delicate, branch-like ankle was a tiny piece of rolled-up paper.

With practiced ease, Del Fiore retrieved it and unfolded the note, scanning its contents.

Sylas demanded to know what it said, but instead of answering immediately, Lacus simply smiled—a grin full of anticipation.

"I’ve found where Rocco is being held." Then, with an almost playful tone, he added, "Alright, enough lounging around. It’s tme to move."

...

Just as the numbness in his wrists that was bound behind his back was beginning to set in, the moment arrived.

With a soft click, the door creaked open.

Rocco held his breath.

Was it Feilu again? Or maybe... was this his rescue?

His heart pounded as he waited in anxious anticipation.

Then, the lace curtain fluttered aside, revealing a familiar face peeking through.

Rocco gasped.

"Wha—?! A-Ares?!"

"Oh? You remember me? What an honor."

The golden hair shimmered under the light, and his face—infuriatingly well-structured as ever—made Rocco frown deeply.

Ares—the king’s younger brother.

Rocco had known for some time that this man had been leading a rebel faction from the shadows these past few years.

He had picked up bits and pieces from reading newspapers and eavesdropping on conversations between his father and Sylas.

Just a little, but enough to know.

There was never a moment he had forgotten about Ares.

Because in the original story—the one that had long since derailed—this man was most likely the true mastermind.

As long as Ares continued to exist and scheme in this world, the story couldn’t possibly be over.

That was why Rocco had always kept his guard up.

And now, to find out that Ares had been involved in his kidnapping and imprisonment?

Rocco puffed up his cheeks in outrage, his whole body practically vibrating with frustration.

"Hey, Ares! So it was you! You forced Feilu to do something bad, didn’t you?! I won’t forgive you! Hmph hmph!"

He huffed, glared, and huffed some more, letting his irritation spill out in breathy protests.

Wait.

Where was Feilu?

Could it be that this guy—this scheming bastard—had done something terrible to him?

Rocco huffed even harder, but before he could demand answers, Ares lifted a hand to his face, covering his eyes as he let out a long, weary sigh.