Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 264: A Sip of Deception

It was probably just Rocco’s imagination...

But he had always felt something off about Feilu. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

And that feeling only grew stronger now.

The silence between them stretched on, just a little awkward.

To break it, Rocco decided to start with some casual conversation

He hesitated for a moment before he said, "Can I call you Feilu?"

At that, Feilu let out a quiet chuckle, amused. "Of course it’s is fine. If it’s just the two of us, I hope you won’t mind me being a little informal—Rocco."

The way his name rolled off Feilu’s tongue, paired with that gentle smile, made Rocco pause for a second.

He blinked his eyes, caught off guard, before quickly shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

Nodding in agreement, he lowered his gaze, trying to cool the slight heat rising in his cheeks.

A soft night breeze brushed against his face.

It wasn’t particularly cold, but for some reason, he let out a small cough.

Right then, Feilu extended the glass he had been holding.

"Rocco, are you thirsty? If you’d like, have this."

"Hmm...? Oh, uh, sorry, Feilu. I can’t drink alcohol."

The glass showed no signs of being touched, but the fact that Feilu had been holding it meant it was probably his own drink.

And if that was the case, it was most likely alcohol.

Rocco shook his head, but Feilu simply smiled.

"Ah, but this isn’t alcohol. I accidentally took a glass of juice earlier. I actually can’t drink juices at all... so I wasn’t sure what to do with it."

"...You can’t drink juice?"

Rocco blinked in shock.

Was that even possible?

A person who couldn’t drink juice?

His mind struggled to process the idea, but if that was the case, then he might as well take it off Feilu’s hands.

"Alright, then. I’ll drink it. Thanks, Feilu."

"... ...No, thank you."

Now that he thought about it, he was feeling a little thirsty.

Maybe.

Brushing aside the thought, he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.

Feilu’s gaze was fixed on him—almost uncomfortably so.

Rocco noticed, but chose to ignore it, instead downing the rest of the drink in a few gulps.

With a satisfied sigh, he set the empty glass down—only to catch sight of Feilu’s expression.

His usual serene smile had twisted, just slightly, into something... pained.

"...Rocco, you’re very kind."

"Huh? N-no, not really... Eheh, what’s with you all of a sudden?"

Flustered, Rocco scratched his cheek, grinning sheepishly.

"I’m not giving you anything just because you complimented me, you know."

Feilu shook his head.

"No, I meant it. You are kind. Just now, if I hadn’t told you that I couldn’t drink juice... you would have refused, wouldn’t you?"

Rocco blinked his eyes.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Come to think of it—Feilu was right.

He hadn’t really been that thirsty.

At first, he had intended to decline the offer.

However, when Feilu said he couldn’t drink juice, Rocco had taken the glass without hesitation.

Just as Feilu had pointed out.

"...But why bring this up now?"

Something about this conversation felt... strange.

Rocco tilted his head in confusion, but Feilu continued speaking.

"...The mafia has no trouble taking advantage of pure-hearted kindness like yours."

A strange sensation coursed through Rocco’s body, as if the strength were draining from his limbs.

By the time he realized something was wrong—Too late!—his fingers slipped.

Before he could even attempt to catch the falling glass, not just his hands, but his entire body lost its strength.

Yet, the sound of shattering glass never came.

Instead, Feilu caught it with effortless grace, his movements slow and deliberate, as if even now, he was considerate of avoiding unnecessary noise.

With that same calmness, he set the glass down on the balcony railing with one hand—while using the other to firmly support Rocco as he collapsed.

"F-Fei... Lu...?"

Feilu remained silent.

"Wh-what do I do...? Maybe that really was alcohol after all... My body feels..."

His body felt completely numb.

His vision blurred, everything distorting as if the world had been painted with watercolors.

Heat spread through his limbs, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

So that’s it—he must have accidentally drunk alcohol.

He reaching out his hand instinctively and clutched at Feilu’s sleeve, his fingers trembling.

His lips curled into a dazed, apologetic smile.

"S-sorry... Feilu... If it was alcohol... you could’ve drunk it instead... but I... I drank your drink..."

"—...!"

Maybe Feilu had been thirsty, too.

Rocco hadn’t even been that thirsty.

He mumbled out his regret, but as he did, Feilu’s face twisted in anguish.

His fists clenched tightly at his sides, as if struggling with something.

Even as Rocco’s consciousness wavered, he could still hear Feilu’s voice.

"...I truly do love kind people. But my father always told me—kindness is useless."

"...Absolute neutrality suited me. I was content with things as they were."

His mind slowed.

When someone mistakenly drank alcohol, what was the proper course of action again?

Call for a servant? Ask to be taken to a separate room to rest?

As he fumbled through hazy thoughts, Feilu quietly lifted him up.

It was only then that Rocco noticed something odd—at some point, they had moved.

The center of the balcony was now far behind them, and they were tucked away in a secluded corner, out of sight.

Had he been... led here without even realizing it?

As unease crept into his foggy mind, something caught his eye.

Scattered across the balcony—hidden behind pillars, slumped beneath the trees—were multiple fallen figures.

One on a tree branch with a clear view of the balcony.

Another collapsed behind a column.

And several more, clad in familiar black suits.

It took only a moment to recognize them.

Di Malvento’s men.

His father—or perhaps Sylas—must have assigned them as his secret bodyguards.

But why were they all unconscious?

Why all of them?

A chilling realization began to take root.

"It’s too late to say anything now, isn’t it?"

Feilu’s voice was laced with self-mockery, filled with quiet resignation.

And with those words, Rocco’s world faded to black.