Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 116: Father’s Wrath

"...You there. How dare you allow Rocco to be sullied by such filthy blood?"

The oppressive glare his father directed at Georgio was sharp enough to pierce the air.

Even though the look wasn’t aimed at him, Rocco couldn’t help but shudder.

Georgio, who had been holding Rocco, glanced down at him with a puzzled expression.

Then, as if realizing something, Georgio froze in place, staring at Rocco’s face.

"What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?" Rocco asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Georgio’s expression turned to one of dawning horror. "Oh no... Master’s soft, chubby cheeks are covered in blood!"

"...What?! Covered in what?!"

Hearing Georgio’s alarming declaration, Rocco flailed in panic, a cold sweat began to breaking out.

His precious cheeks—what did he mean they were covered in blood?

As Rocco floundered in confusion, Georgio ignored his protests and began to rubbing Rocco’s cheeks with a look of regret.

Rocco frowned as Georgio continued to press and rub his face. "If there’s something on my cheeks, maybe don’t touch them so much," he thought. "It’s like when you spill soy sauce on cloth—rubbing it just spreads the stain."

Despite his internal grumbling, Rocco endured Georgio’s overzealous attempts to clean his face.

His lips puckered like a pouty octopus as Georgio’s grip grew firmer.

Eventually, Georgio let out a loud, distressed exclamation. "Oh no! I’ve smeared the blood even more over your chubby cheeks!"

"What are you doing to me?!" Rocco yelped in protest.

Georgio stretched Rocco’s cheeks dramatically, lamenting his own failure.

Meanwhile, Rocco flailed his arms, smacking Georgio’s hands away with a resounding smack.

Deciding he’d had enough of this, Rocco took a few quick steps back and distancing himself from Georgio.

Still flustered, Rocco turned around and sprinted toward his father, who stood up watching the scene unfold with a disapproving glare.

"Father, Father! Are my cheeks really covered in blood?!" Rocco asked, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Do not worry, Rocco. I will clean that foul blood off for you. Come here," his father replied with calm authority.

Without offering a direct answer, his father bent down and scooped Rocco into his arms with ease.

He set Rocco down gently on one knee, the contrast in their sizes making Rocco feel a pang of frustration at the obvious difference in strength.

The warm embrace was comforting, though, and as his father began carefully wiping his cheeks, Rocco couldn’t help but wonder aloud, "Do we really need to hug for this? Wouldn’t it be easier to clean if I wasn’t so close?"

His father ignored the muttering, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

"...There. All clean," his father finally said, his stern face softening just slightly. "Your adorable cheeks are back to their proper state."

"Thank you very much! But, Father, your mantle is dirty now..."

Rocco glanced uneasily at his father, who had used the edge of his fine, expensive-looking mantle to wipe Rocco’s cheeks clean.

For Rocco, the state of the mantle seemed a bigger concern than the blood that had been on his cheeks.

Wouldn’t his father now have to deal with the hassle of cleaning it?

Fidgeting nervously, Rocco glanced up at his father, who simply said, "Don’t worry about it," in an even tone.

The nonchalant response eased Rocco’s anxiety.

Judging by his calm demeanor, it truly seemed like it wasn’t a big deal.

That was a relief.

"The objective has been achieved. Let’s go home, Rocco. I suspect you’re about to succumb to your drowsiness," his father remarked.

"That’s not true at aaaaall... mmmph..." Rocco mumbled, his voice trailing off as he fought back a yawn.

Stop that! Every time you mention it, it reminds me how tired I am!

Unable to resist the sudden wave of sleepiness, Rocco leaned his head against his father’s shoulder and let his body relax.

When his drowsy head drooped to one side, his father wiped away a little drool with his thumb, his expression unreadable. freēwēbnovel.com

Rising steadily, he began walking toward the open front doors.

But then a sharp voice from behind made his father halt in his tracks.

"Hey now... Hold on. You’ll need to provide some explanations, the Head of the Di Malvento family."

The voice was laced with a chilling intent, instantly dispelling some of Rocco’s drowsiness.

Fear prickled at him.

Terrified, Rocco began to tremble.

His father noticed and glanced down, his expression briefly softening before his gaze turned cold and unyielding.

His face hardened into an unreadable mask, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Someone’s going to get killed...!

Rocco thought, his trembling intensifying.

Then, just as suddenly, his father pivoted to face the source of the voice.

Fixing his piercing gaze on the speaker, his father’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

In a voice that rumbled like something crawling from the depths of the earth, he muttered:"How dare you disrupt Rocco’s sleep with your insolence... I’ll kill you."

This is bad! I don’t know all the details, but somehow, me falling asleep might lead to someone getting killed...!

This is exactly why Rocco still found his father difficult to deal with—his temper had no clear boundaries.

Most of the time, his father was cool and composed, but then he’d suddenly snap and try to kill someone.

Just the other day, during dinner, Rocco had briefly choked on his food, and his father had erupted in fury.

"What is the meaning of serving food that’s difficult to swallow?" he’d bellowed. "Rocco has a small mouth! The chef must be executed!"

The sheer unpredictability of his father’s boiling point was utterly terrifying.

Thankfully, on that occasion, Rocco had tearfully pleaded, "Please, return to being my kind father!" and his father had calmed down quickly.

However, now, Rocco wasn’t so sure if such a tactic would work again.

Back then, there had been no underlying grudges or complicated circumstances, which had made it easier to de-escalate.

This time, things seemed far more tangled.