"Next time, it'll be my turn, okay, Master? Only giving Ragar all the rewards is so unfair! I've worked super hard, too, you know!"
It was no use.
He crying outYou traitor! Inside his heart.
But he know it wouldn't change anything.
Rocco suddenly remembered—Georgio was an unhinged serial killer.
Rational judgment was not something he could rely on from him in moments like these.
Even though the situation screamed the imminent snack time, Georgio was babbling nonsense about "virginity loss" and "courtship rituals."
None of it made any sense!
"…Wait, what?"
Rocco froze, his mind catching on those phrases.
Virginity loss? Courtship rituals?
"Wha—WHAT?!"
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, and Rocco couldn't help but yell at the top of his lungs.
At that exact moment, the bushes nearby rustled, the sound reverberating ominously.
The noise, combined with the sudden and undeniable presence of someone nearby, made Rocco's blood run cold.
He had completely forgotten—this was supposed to be a stealth operation.
They were lying in wait to ambush Sylas, and they couldn't afford to be discovered.
But now with all their commotion…
This presence could only mean one thing—
"Who goes there?"
The deep, velvety voice cut through the air.
It was the kind of voice you'd imagine coming from an ideal casting choice in a novel adaptation.
It was smooth and rich, perfectly embodying the very essence of a dream character.
That perfect voice came from the lips of a beautiful boy who emerged from the bushes.
That boy hair have the same deep shade as Rocco's.
"B-Brother…?"
Rocco craned his neck awkwardly to see the boy standing over him.
From his upside-down perspective, the figure appeared flipped, but there was no mistaking him.
There he was. The number-one person Rocco needed to watch out for right now.
The one who stood as the main protagonist of novel—Sylas, his brother.
"…What was that just now?"
A quiet mutter reached Rocco's ears, prompting him to hurriedly push Ragar off and sit up.
He gestured for Georgio to restrain the still-flushed and struggling Ragar, then plastered on an exaggerated, innocent smile as if to say, Nothing to see here, I've done absolutely nothing wrong*
This was bad—really bad.
The entire plan had been ruined.
The idea was to stay hidden until the pivotal moment, discreetly save Sylas, and earn some goodwill in the process.
But now, there was no chance they could remain in hiding.
And if Sylas had arrived, it meant their mother would likely show up at any moment.
"Oh, Brother! What brings you to a place like this?"
Rocco stood up while brushing off dirt and grass with rapid pats as he fixed a bright, disarming smile on his face.
Sylas, however, simply gazed down at him in silence for several long seconds.
The intensity of the stare was unbearable, and by the time Rocco felt sweat trickling down his back in sheer terror, Sylas finally averted his eyes.
Thank God.
Rocco let out a breath of relief, or at least he tried to.
Just before he could took a breath, Sylas suddenly murmured something, causing the half-released breath to catch in his throat.
"…Are you, in heat? However, i'm surprised. To think you'd take a Beastman as a lover."
"Wha—?"
In heat? Lover?
Rocco tilted his head, baffled, but Sylas didn't seem interested in explaining.
His sharp gaze swept over Rocco's confused expression before narrowing further.
"…You're nothing like your Mother."
Without waiting for a response, Sylas muttered the words as though making an observation to himself, then turned on his heel.
He walked away in silence, stopping at the edge of the lake.
Standing there and gazing into the water, his figure was beyond ethereal.
The scene didn't just evoke mystique—it was like witnessing a figure from a divine mural come to life.
Watching him, Rocco was reminded of a bitter truth: his mother was utterly incompetent.
She'd chosen to pit herself—and Rocco—against this impossibly perfect protagonist.
Anyone with eyes could see it.
There was no way someone could defeated Sylas.
Someone like Rocco, a petty small villain, could only hope to avoid his wrath by groveling and playing nice.
The idea that he shared blood with this man felt surreal.
There wasn't even the faintest sense of familial connection between them.
But perhaps that was to be expected.
After all, he and Sylas weren't just siblings—they were enemies.
"Hey, hey, Master," came a voice from behind, jolting Rocco from his thoughts.
Turning, he saw it was Georgio who had called him.
Georgio was grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes, holding a heavily flushed, drooling Ragar in a firm grip.
Ragar still looked half-crazed, his wild energy was restrained by Georgio's unrelenting hold.
For a fleeting moment, Rocco thought the two of them resembled a predator and prey—a cunning snake ensnaring an unstoppable beast.
It fit them unnervingly well.
"Just look at Ragar! All pent up and out of control! Master, you're such a sadist! Leaving a Beastman in heat like this—what a cruel tease!"
"Sadist? Tease?"
"Where'd you learn such advanced play? You're a natural, Master! Totally experienced at this, huh?"
What on earth was this guy talking about?
Rocco furrowed his brow at Georgio, who looked so thrilled with his own thinking.
The nonsense Georgio was spouting was unsettling enough to warrant a deeply unimpressed look in return from him.
But even that expression seemed to encourage Georgio further.
"Oh, that look of disdain—so good! Please, keep looking down on me like that, Master!" he crowed, clearly delighted.
Rocco gave up, turning his head away in exasperation.
Normally, Ragar, the most reasonable one, would have stepped in by now.
But even he was clearly out of sorts today, wobbling and drooling like a drunken fool.
Between Georgio's mania and Ragar's unusual state, Rocco sighed inwardly.
He had relied on both of them earlier, but today, they were utterly useless.
"What's gotten into you two, seriously—wait, whoa!!"
As Rocco spun around, grumbling, he was suddenly confronted by an overwhelming sight: a cascade of long, silky hair as dark as midnight.