Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 265: Bound and Betrayed

When Rocco woke up, he found himself lying on a soft, fluffy bed.

His hands were bound behind his back, and shackles were fastened around his ankles, chaining him to the bed’s railing.

The scene was the textbook definition of "being held captive."

Strangely enough, instead of fear, a sense of awe took him over.

So this was what it felt like to be in captivity, huh?

Hmm.

It was scarier than expected, and he felt like he might cry at any moment.

"Mmm... What’s going on here...?"

Still half-dazed, he try to sit up with sheer determination.

No matter what, the first step was to assess the situation.

He had been told time and time again by Sylas and Laxus that losing composure in moments like these was the worst thing one could do.

The restraints on his wrists and the shackles on his ankles were very tight—there was no way he could remove them with his own strength.

Since he was chained to the bed, escaping wasn’t an option either.

His movement was completely restricted to the bed.

As for how he ended up in this predicament... What had he been doing before he collapsed?

"Hmm... Let’s see... I went to the evening party, ate some pudding, munched on some cookies..."

No, no—this part wasn’t important.

He fast-forwarded through his mental replay of the night’s events, skipping straight to the crucial moment.

And then, once he recalled the incident that led to his current situation, his brows furrowed.

"Oh... crap."

He groaned in frustration.

There was no doubt about it—the reason he had collapsed was that drink.

That juice he had received from Feilu.

There must have been something in it.

Something suspicious.

Something... well, the kind of thing bad guys used.

In other words, he had been completely tricked by Feilu.

He had let his guard down just because the guy seemed like a gentle older brother. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Even though he had already learned his lesson from Laxus—who had a kind-looking face but was actually a complete psychopath—he still fell for it.

Rocco sighed, thoroughly disappointed in himself.

"What to do, what to do..."

After calmly assessing the situation, Rocco flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.

Honestly, he wasn’t all that panicked.

The entire chain of events had taken place at a grand evening party, after all.

At a gathering with that many attendees, the sudden disappearance of someone like him—the heir of one of the two major families—wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

Someone was bound to realize it soon.

Most likely Laxus or Sylas would pick up on it first.

And then there was another thing.

Right before he lost consciousness, he had caught a glimpse of the guards—his supposed protectors—collapsed on the ground.

It was clear they had been taken down by the enemy.

However, if even one of them managed to regain consciousness and report to Sylas, news of his abduction would spread quickly.

Taking all that into account, there wasn’t much reason to panic.

Enough time had probably passed since he had been knocked out, and, if anything, help should be arriving soon.

That much he believed, and, in hindsight, maybe he had let his guard down too much.

"Speaking of which... what time is it now?"

Still idly waiting for his rescue team to arrive, he tilted his head in curiosity.

What time was it?

And where exactly was he?

It was only now, far too late, that these questions finally surfaced in his mind.

He scanned his surroundings, trying to piece things together.

Caught up in his thoughts, he had completely overlooked the details of the room he was in.

The bed was surrounded by sheer lace curtains and draped elegantly to enclose the space.

He craned his neck forward, nudging the fabric aside just enough to peek outside.

The room was spacious—just as he expected from the presence of a grand canopy bed.

The decor had the refined, ostentatious air of nobility, further solidifying his suspicions.

If that were the case, then there was a high probability that he was being held somewhere within a noble’s estate.

And the most suspicious candidate?

The Don Ferocelli family.

After all, the one who had tricked him—who had lured him into this trap—was none other than Feilu.

Which meant... the mastermind behind this entire ordeal was likely the Don Ferocelli family.

"...Feilu, the mastermind...?"

Rocco muttered under his breath, his expression darkening.

As Rocco muttered to himself, a vague sense of unease stirred within him.

He had felt this same discomfort every time he looked at Feilu’s expression, but he still couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was causing it.

Just as he furrowed his brows in thought, a sudden click echoed through the room—the sound of a door unlocking.

His body stiffened.

Footsteps approached, swift and purposeful.

Anxious tension coiled around him, making him shrink back instinctively.

As his body tensed, his eyes welling with unshed tears, the lace curtains of the canopy bed were gently drawn open.

The sight of the figure standing before him made him suck in a sharp breath.

"Fe... Feilu?"

"Shh. Stay quiet."

The words he had been about to spit out—something along the lines of What the hell, you bastard?!—were immediately silenced by a large hand covering his mouth.

Rocco frowned at the gesture.

Feilu seemed wary, as if he were on guard against their surroundings.

But that didn’t make sense.

If Feilu was the mastermind behind all this, why would he need to be cautious here?

As Rocco squirmed in protest, Feilu hushed him like one would a fussy child, his expression full of guilt.

Then, in a hushed, urgent voice, he whispered, "I’m sorry, Rocco. You can yell at me, curse at me, even punish me later. But for now, please stay quiet. Do as I say. If you do, you won’t have to go through anything painful."

The desperate sincerity in his voice made Rocco’s eyes widen.

Somehow, instinct told him that Feilu was genuinely concerned for his well-being.