Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 118: Shadows of Betrayal

"That person... He wouldn’t have done this...!" the Guildmaster stammered, his voice laced with disbelief.

"’That person’...?" Marcus muttered, tilting his head slightly. freёwebnoѵel.com

His words drifted down to Rocco, who also blinked in confusion.

Just as the pieces of the puzzle seemed to click into place—

BANG!

The sharp crack of a gunshot tore through the air, loud enough to leave Rocco’s ears ringing.

Unaccustomed to such violence, Rocco didn’t immediately register the sound as a gunshot.

Only when his eyes drifted upward, landing on the Guildmaster who is collapsing in slow motion at the top of the stairs, did he grasp what had happened.

The blood sprayed from the Guildmaster’s temple, vivid and unmistakable, as his body crumpled to the ground.

And then, there was silence.

In his previous life, Rocco had been a frail and timid boy, utterly sheltered in a peaceful world.

His life confined to hospital rooms had given him more exposure to blood and the concept of death than most people.

However, even then, it was always the sort of death that had already passed or that came gently and quietly.

What had just unfolded before his eyes, however, was nothing like that.

The man who, mere seconds ago, had looked as though he had all the time in the world, was suddenly robbed of his life.

This wasn’t a death by accident or self-infliction—it was by someone else’s hand.

It shocked Rocco deeply.

More than that, it terrified him.

The fear he felt now far surpassed anything he had experienced even in the moments when he himself had faced death in his former life.

"Protect the head of the family and the young master!"

"Capture all enemies in the vicinity!"

Shouts and commands, loud and urgent, filled the air.

Yet, strangely, they felt distant, as though they were coming from far away.

All sounds seemed muffled and remote—the voices, the chaos, even the firm grip of his father’s arms as he held Rocco protectively against him.

The suited men surrounding them, forming a human barricade, also felt like part of some far-off scene.

Marcus swiftly removed his cloak and wrapped it entirely around Rocco, covering him from head to toe.

It wasn’t about concealing him from sight anymore—it was too late for that.

No, Rocco realized with a startling clarity that his father was shielding his vital areas, protecting him from stray bullets that could come from anywhere.

Under normal circumstances, Rocco might have tried to protest, saying something gallant like, "You should hide yourself too, Father!" But now, words escaped him.

"Ha... haah, ahh..."

Rocco’s body trembled violently.

His head spun, his heart pounded uncontrollably, and he struggled to catch his breath.

His breathing grew heavier, faster, escalating into full-blown hyperventilation.

The sweat poured from him, cold and unrelenting.

His vision swam, the world tilting and swirling around him.

His hands shook too much to grasp his father’s clothes tightly, so instead, he could only ball his fists and press them weakly against his father’s chest.

He buried his face against his father, pressing harder with each breath.

Every time he did, his father’s arms tightened around him, a firm embrace that was a little suffocating but offered a greater sense of relief than discomfort.

"Rocco, the perimeter scan showed no more threats. There are no enemies left nearby. You’re safe now. Rocco? What’s wrong?"

Rocco could hear his father speaking.

His voice was calm but filled with concern.

He seemed to be trying to reassure Rocco, to tell him something important.

However, Rocco couldn’t focus.

Not yet.

But what should he do?

He couldn’t hear anything.

His ears felt strange, and no sound reached him.

What if his father was giving him an important report?

What if it was something vital?

What then?

The cloak that had been wrapped around Rocco was gently pulled back, letting in the light.

The sudden brightness after the darkness terrified him.

In the dark, he could avoid seeing the things that scared him.

But now, with the light shining in, he would see everything—the pain, the terror.

He was afraid.

Terrified.

What if he had to witness death again right in front of him?

Not the peaceful, distant kind of death he once knew, but the instant, violent kind that seemed all too common in this world.

"Ah, ah... s-scared... I don’t want this, I don’t want this..."

"Rocco? What’s wrong, Rocco? Look at me."

His father’s voice seemed distant.

The light that poured in was blinding, and the thought of imminent death was overwhelming.

Memories began to flood back.

They resurfaced, unbidden and vivid.

He remembered the helpless feeling of being pulled away without resistance, unable even to cry out in sadness for the family he loved.

That sensation of powerlessness came rushing back.

No, he couldn’t let it happen again.

It wasn’t death itself that scared him—he’d already faced that once before.

He wasn’t afraid of dying.

What terrified him was something else entirely.

It was the thought of leaving behind his beloved family without saying goodbye, to die quietly and alone in a place filled with enemies.

He had imagined it—a worst-case scenario that chilled him to his core.

"F-father, father... please, stay here, hold me... tight..."

Death felt so close.

He couldn’t bear to be separated from his family.

If he had to die, he didn’t want to die alone.

He wanted his family to be there, to see him, to hold him.

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he cried out in confusion and fear.

His voice was small and desperate, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions.

And as always, it was his precious family who pulled him out of that chaos.

"Rocco, I’m here."

The embrace that followed was so tight, he thought he might suffocate.

However, in that moment, it grounded him and brought him back to himself.

He blinked his eyes and startled out of his spiraling thoughts.

Slowly, he raised his tear-streaked face, hesitant and unsure.