Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 148: The Chase in the Moonlit Garden

"...He’s often called a cursed child," Sylas continued, his voice almost a whisper. "Just showing those eyes in public draws constant stares and whispered insults. It’s no wonder he finds it tiresome."

Sylas’s words struck Rocco like a jolt.

How could he have forgotten?

Laxus’s red eyes, like rubies or roses, were widely regarded here as a mark of misfortune—a cursed child, a devil’s offspring.

But to Rocco, those eyes were simply beautiful.

So beautiful, in fact, that he had never associated them with anything negative.

He had forgotten the weight of the stigma Laxus carried because he only saw their beauty.

As the realization sank in, Rocco’s shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

Sylas, noticing his dejection, reached out and lightly patted Rocco’s head in a gesture of comfort.

The gentle touch eased Rocco’s thoughts momentarily, but soon a commotion from within the hall broke the moment.

Curious, Rocco tilted his head, straining to listen.

Among the rising murmurs, he could make out voices calling for Sylas.

Sylas sighed softly. "...Rocco, can you wait here for a moment?"

"Y-yes! I’ll be fine!" Rocco replied with a small nod.

It seemed that, like Laxus, Sylas was also quite popular at these events.

Being the heir of the Di Malvento family meant that others were eager to approach him, likely hoping to establish connections with one of the two most powerful families.

Rocco noticed the countless glances from within the hall that was flickering toward them and he instinctively shrank under their scrutiny.

Sylas, on the other hand, would normally ignore such stares without a second thought if they bothered him.

However, here, it seemed he was making a deliberate effort to engage.

Rocco realized that this was likely part of Sylas’s strategy to uncover the mastermind behind the recent schemes.

"Nobody would dare to start trouble on Del Fiore territory," Sylas said, his tone firm but cautious. "But just in case... don’t let your guard down. If you feel even the slightest hint of danger, call my name immediately."

"I understand! I’ll call for you right away!" Rocco puffed out his chest confidently, trying to reassure Sylas.

Sylas looked at him, a shadow of doubt lingering in his gaze as if he wasn’t entirely convinced.

With a reluctant glance back at Rocco, Sylas finally turned and left the balcony to rejoin the crowd, his footsteps heavy with hesitation.

Through the glass doors, Rocco could see the moment Sylas entered the hall.

A wave of people surged toward him, eager to approach.

Rocco chuckled softly, imagining how exhausting it must be for Sylas, who already disliked socializing.

Still, the fact that Sylas had deliberately left him behind likely meant that Sylas didn’t want him mingling with those people.

Perhaps Sylas was worried Rocco might slip up and inadvertently reveal sensitive information.

Considering Rocco’s past blunders, it wasn’t an unreasonable concern, but it still left Rocco feeling slightly annoyed.

"Hmph..."

Rocco leaned lightly against the balcony railing.

Well, he tried to.

His height made it impossible to do so properly, so he settled for resting his small hands on the edge instead.

The night breeze caressed his face as the distant sounds of the bustling hall faded into the background.

Standing there, Rocco felt as if he were in an entirely different world.

Events like this, after all, allowed entry only to invited guests.

The bodyguards and attendants were typically not permitted inside.

That meant Rocco was truly alone—no Ragar, no Georgio, just him.

"...Come to think of it, these soirées are kind of strange," Rocco muttered to himself, breaking the silence of the balcony.

His thoughts drifted to a scene he recalled from the original story.

It wasn’t a major plot point, just a few lines of text that had stuck with him.

The word soirée had appeared only a handful of times in the story, usually in passing or as part of a character’s memories.

Rocco squinted, trying to piece it together.

"Hmm... oh well!" he said with a small shrug, brushing the thought aside.

Although the lingering curiosity tugged at him, Rocco ultimately decided that a brief description like that couldn’t have been too important.

With a mental shrug, he tossed the memory into the far corners of his mind.

More importantly, he reminded himself, he needed to avoid making any mistakes tonight—anything that could tarnish the name of the Di Malvento family.

Rocco vowed to be extra cautious while Sylas was away, ensuring that no trouble arose in his absence.

Nodding firmly at this resolution, he was startled when something shifted at the edge of his vision.

"Huh? What’s that?"

Rocco leaned forward, pressing his face against the railings, peering down into the garden below the balcony.

His cheeks squished against the cold metal as he strained his eyes to focus on the movement that had caught his attention.

"...! It is Laxus!"

The figure that had flitted across the edge of his vision was indeed Laxus.

The gleaming abyss black hair had been a giveaway, and though Rocco had thought it unlikely, there was no mistaking it.

Laxus appeared briefly, moving quietly before slipping away into the shadows.

Alarmed, Rocco pulled his face and hands away from the railings and immediately dashed off.

He couldn’t explain it, but something about Laxus’s presence felt precarious—almost desperate, as if he were trying to escape the noisy crowd as quickly as possible.

That subtle urgency set Rocco’s heart racing, compelling him to act.

"I’m sorry, brother...!" Rocco muttered softly as he glanced through the glass doors and seeing Sylas still surrounded by people.

Apologizing under his breath, Rocco darted toward the balcony stairs.

Even as he scolded himself for breaking his earlier promise to avoid causing any problems, Rocco’s feet didn’t falter.

Driven by the uneasy feeling that Laxus needed help, he hurriedly chased after the figure disappearing into the garden.

Rocco toddled off in the direction where Laxus had disappeared and eventually arriving in a modest garden that stood in stark contrast to the grander front gardens of the estate.