Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!

The room descended into chaos...Whispers broke out in frantic bursts, men muttering nervously to each other as they exchanged uneasy glances.

"Standing amongst us?!"

"Who could it be?"

"It's not me—l swear it's not me!"

"It's you! You look the most suspicious here!"

"Well, you look like a fucking pig, so fuck off!"

Even the supervisor, who had been so smug mere moments ago, looked taken aback. Though he quickly tried to mask his unease with a haughty sneer, there was a tightness around his eyes that betrayed him.

Cassius watched the growing panic in the room with quiet amusement, his smile never faltering as the servants' nervous whispers swelled into a cacophony of fear and uncertainty.

The earlier carefree mood was gone entirely, replaced by an oppressive tension that weighed on everyone present.

That is until one of the younger guards, unable to bear the silence any longer, stepped forward, his voice trembling as he asked, "Y-Young Master...Who is it? Who tried to poison you?"

Cassius tilted his head slightly, as though giving the question serious consideration. He tapped a finger against his chin, his smile widening ever so slightly.

"Who indeed?" He murmured, his tone playful. His crimson eyes scanned the room slowly, deliberately, before settling on a single figure.

He let the silence stretch for a moment longer before speaking again, his voice calm but laced with subtle implication.

"Well, if I had to guess...perhaps someone in charge? Someone with authority?... Someone who has the most power among you all, so much power that it wouldn't be unimaginable to think he would try to pull off an assassination." His gaze lingered briefly on the supervisor.

The room erupted into murmurs, the vague hint enough to ignite a spark of suspicion. Eyes darted toward the supervisor even though Cassius hadn't mentioned his name, and within seconds, the men began to shift away from him, their nervous glances turning into outright glares.

"Could it be him?" One whispered.

"It makes sense." Another muttered, his voice dripping with unease. "He's always been saying that our master is useless and that he can make a much better noble if given the opportunity."

The shift was immediate. Those who had been standing closest to the supervisor now took several steps back, their expressions a mix of disdain and fear.

The supervisor, caught off guard by the sudden hostility directed at him, raised his hands defensively.

"W-Wait a minute, you all!" He stammered, his sharp features contorting in disbelief. "You've got it all wrong! I didn't do anything!"

The men didn't respond, their cold stares unwavering. Seeing that his words weren't working against the crowd, the supervisor's gaze snapped back to Cassius, his voice growing louder and more desperate.

"My lord! You must be mistaken!" He exclaimed. "I've been loyal to this household for years! I'd never harm you—I swear it! You must be mistaken!"

Cassius didn't answer right away, letting the supervisor's protests echo through the room. The tension built with every passing second, the gathered servants frozen as they awaited their young master's judgement.

Then, to everyone's utter shock, just when everyone thought that he would insist he was the culprit and then drag him away, Cassius let out a soft chuckle, his smile widening as he spoke.

"You're absolutely right." He said casually as the room went silent, confusion rippling through the gathered men.

He then leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room with an almost lazy amusement. "What I just said was false." He continued, his tone light and unbothered. "We've already caught the person responsible for the attempt on my life, so you really aren't the one who tried to assassinate me."

The collective relief was almost palpable, but it was overshadowed by the dismay and confusion left in his wake.

"You...You've already caught them?" One of the servants asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Cassius nodded, his smile never faltering. "Of course...Catching such petty criminals is nothing for the Holyfield household." He said simply, his tone making it sound as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He then continued saying, like it was some kind of joke, "I just thought it might be funny to see how everyone would react if I suggested one of you was the culprit."

His eyes glimmered with amusement as they flicked toward the supervisor, then back to the rest of the room. "And just as I expected." He continued, his voice carrying easily in the tense silence. "Your reactions were rather amusing."

A few of the servants fidgeted, their earlier nervous energy replaced with shame as they realised how quickly they'd turned on the supervisor.

Those who had distanced themselves from him moments before now avoided his gaze entirely, their expressions tinged with guilt.

The supervisor, on the other hand, was visibly seething. His sharp features were twisted in a bitter grimace with veins popping out of his neck.

He could feel the weight of the servants' stares on him, their suspicion and unease lingering despite Cassius's admission.

The humiliation was almost unbearable.

Unable to stay silent, the supervisor stepped forward, his voice shaking with barely concealed anger.

"Young Master!" He shouted as he stared at his master, who was acting like a tyrant all of a sudden. "This is completely unacceptable! You can't abuse your position like this—humiliating me in front of the entire staff! It's a disgrace!"

Cassius's smile didn't falter, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, a slight tilt of his head that gave his expression a sharper, more dangerous edge.

"A disgrace, you say?" He asked softly, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

The supervisor pressed on, emboldened by his own indignation.

"Yes! This kind of behaviour is unbecoming of someone in your position." He snapped, his tone laced with contempt. "And if you continue down this path, I'll have no choice but to report your actions to the head of the household!"

The mention of Cassius's father hung in the air like a challenge, its weight pressing on everyone in the room. It was a clear attempt by the supervisor to regain control, a calculated move designed to intimidate Cassius back into submission.

For a moment, the man's twisted features softened into a smug smirk, his posture straightening as he anticipated the same result he'd seen countless times before: the young master retreating, stumbling over an apology when his father was involved in the picture.

But instead, Cassius chuckled softly.

The sound was low and unhurried, yet it seemed to cut through the room like a knife.

His faint smile widened, curling into something sharper, something cruel. The chill that ran through the gathered servants was palpable.

"Then, Mr Supervisor..." Cassius said, his tone light and conversational. "...instead of saying it was all a joke, I'll just really add you to the group of culprits and have you dragged away."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Cassius took a step forward, the click of his polished shoe echoing in the stillness. His fiery red eyes locked onto the supervisor, gleaming with an amusement that felt almost predatory.

"And once that happens." He continued. "What exactly do you think you'll tell my father? Or anyone else, for that matter, when you're already locked up in chains?"

The supervisor's smirk vanished instantly, his face paling as he took an involuntary step back.

"You...Y-You can't be serious." He stammered, his voice trembling. "You wouldn't dare—"

Cassius tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening into something colder. "Oh, but I would...I absolutely would." He said softly, his tone almost cheerful. "Oh, and you know that I have the power to do so with just a single order from me."

The room shifted. The servants exchanged nervous glances, their earlier confidence crumbling into unease. Whispers of disbelief flickered between them, but no one dared speak loudly.

"I-I've been loyal to this household for years!" The supervisor finally protested, his voice rising with desperation. "You have no right—no evidence—"

"Evidence?" Cassius interrupted, raising a brow as if the concept amused him. "If I decide you're guilty, that's all the evidence I need."

The supervisor's jaw dropped, his protests faltering as the weight of the words—and the calmness with which they were delivered—hit him like a physical blow.

The servants were still, their earlier smugness and dismissiveness replaced with wide-eyed disbelief.

They didn't dare look at Cassius directly, their eyes flitting instead between the supervisor and the jagged rock and the helmet that sat ominously on the small table beside their young master.

The supervisor opened his mouth to speak again but faltered, his voice caught in his throat.

Cassius gave him one last glance, his cruel smile softening ever so slightly as he sat back in his chair, his hand brushing casually against the rock. His posture was relaxed, his tone calm, yet there was something undeniably dangerous in the way he carried himself.

The servants didn't say a word, but their expressions spoke volumes. This wasn't the Cassius they had mocked and dismissed as a pathetic wastrel. The man before them now radiated an authority and malice that left them shaken.

They didn't need him to tell them he had changed. They could feel it, and the realisation sent a chill through the room.

The supervisor, still frozen in place, swallowed hard, his earlier confidence shattered. The silence stretched unbearably, the weight of Cassius's presence suffocating.

Finally, Cassius gestured toward the room with a lazy wave of his hand.

"Shall we move on?" He asked lightly, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "I think it's about time we root out the true traitors of this mansion."