Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 114: I’ll Savour Them All
"Oh, and Father." Cassius said, his voice casual but laced with a sharp edge, as he ignored his father's despair, the broken sobs echoing faintly. "Even though I'm handing over the administration of the estate to you don't think I'm leaving it entirely in your hands."
"You're a sly old fox, aren't you? Always scheming, always plotting. I'd be a fool to think you wouldn't try something to mess it all up the moment my back's turned."
"And sure, I could handle anything you throw my way—rip it apart with my bare hands, you know the drill—but I don't like nuisances. They're tedious, and I've got better things to do. So, I'll have someone keep an eye on you."
"...Someone to watch you at all times, make sure you don't step out of line."
His crimson gaze slid sideways, landing on Wayne, who was still slumped against the desk as well, his face pale and trembling.
The moment weight of Cassius's stare settled on him the attendant froze, his breath catching. He understood immediately what was being implied, and a surge of defiance flared in his chest despite the terror gripping him.
"No—no way!" Wayne sputtered, pushing himself upright with shaky hands, his voice cracking as he glared at Cassius. "You think I'd betray my lord? My master, who I've served for decades? I'd rather you kill me right here, right now, than turn on him for you!"
Cassius tilted his head, as he chuckled a low, rolling sound that sent a shiver down Wayne's spine. "Oh, I figured you'd say something like that." He said, his tone almost admiring. "And I've got to hand it to you, Wayne—your bravery, your loyalty, it's impressive. Really, it is."
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
"A lesser man would've crumbled by now, but here you are, still spitting fire even after everything you've seen tonight." His smile widened, the gentleness fading into something colder, more sinister. "But let me ask you this—what if instead of your life, your daughter's life was on the line?"
"...What would you do then?"
Wayne's eyes widened, a fresh wave of horror washing over him as the words hit like a punch to the gut.
"What?!" He cried, his voice breaking as he staggered forward a step, his hands clenching into fists. "Why—why would you bring her into this?! She's got nothing to do with any of it! If you're angry with me, if I've done something to cross you, then torture me—kill me, rip me apart like you did those bandits! I'll take it all, anything you want—just leave my daughter out of this!"
"...She's innocent, the purest soul you'll ever find—please, I'm begging you, don't touch her!"
His said, crawling forward with a desperate, pleading look in his eyes to kiss his feet and beg for his daughter's life, knowing he was powerless against Cassius but unable to stop himself from trying.
But to his surprise,.Cassius simply raised a hand, stepping back slightly as if to ward off Wayne's frantic advance.
"Whoa, easy there." He said, his voice shifting to a soothing, almost reassuring tone. "It's not what you think—calm down, I'm not talking about hurting her." He then crouched down to Wayne's level, his eyes softening as he met the attendant's tearful gaze. "I'm not threatening to take your daughter's life, Wayne...In fact, I'm talking about saving it."
Wayne froze, his eyes blinking as confusion clouded his despair. "Saving...her?" He whispered, his voice trembling as he searched Cassius's face for some hint of a lie. "What do you mean?"
Cassius straightened slightly, his smile turning gentler, though that eerie edge lingered beneath it.
"I did a little digging on you and your family." He said casually as if they were old friends catching up. "Your daughter—she's been sick her whole life, hasn't she? Some lifelong illness that's kept her chained to that bed since she was a little girl."
"A child who should've been running around, laughing with the others, but instead she's been wasting away, teetering on the edge of death every single day. No one even knows what's wrong with her—not really. Just some cruel, nameless thing eating her up from the inside."
Wayne's lips quivered, his hands clenching as memories of his daughter—his sweet, fragile daughter flooded his mind.
The countless nights he'd sat by her bedside, holding her frail hand as she struggled to breathe, her pale face lit only by the dim glow of a candle. He'd scoured the continent, brought in every doctor, every healer, every scholar he could find, but none could name her illness, let alone cure it.
"She...She's all I have." He murmured, his voice breaking as he bit his lip, tears spilling down his cheeks. "No one could save her—no one..."
But then, a spark of realization flickered in his chest, ignited by Cassius's words. His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the Young Master's with a desperate, hopeful glint.
"Wait." He said, his voice trembling with a fragile mix of fear and longing. "Are you saying...You can save her?...Is that what you mean, Young Master?"
Cassius's smile widened, a genuine warmth creeping into it as he nodded.
"Of course I can." He said, his tone brimming with confidence. "And I'm glad you're sharp enough to catch on so quick—you're a capable man, Wayne, I'll give you that. Makes this a lot easier." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a whisper as he continued. "You see, I actually paid her a little visit this morning, your sweet little daughter along with your absolutely gorgeous wife. Slipped in while you were busy here, fussing over Father."
"And then I did a bit of...Treatment, let's call it. Nothing too flashy, just enough to get her started. And you know what? She's already better. She can walk now—slowly, mind you, but she's up. Breathing easier, too, not that ragged gasping she used to do."
Wayne's jaw dropped, his heart pounding as the words sank in.
"You...You saw her?" He stammered, his voice rising with a frantic edge. "This morning? And she's—she's better? You're not lying to me, are you? Please, tell me it's true—tell me you're not just saying this to toy with me!"
Cassius chuckled again, shaking his head as he met Wayne's wild, pleading gaze.
"I don't lie when it comes to promises, Wayne." He said, his voice firm and steady. "You should know that by now—I've proved it tonight, haven't I? If you don't believe me, go home. Right now. Check on her yourself. See if I'm telling the truth. She's waiting for you, probably wondering where her brave old dad's been all day."
Wayne's breath caught, a surge of excitement and disbelief flooding through him at the thought of his daughter—standing, walking, breathing like a normal child.
The thought made him scramble to his feet, his legs shaky but driven by a desperate need to see her, to hold her, to confirm this miracle with his own eyes.
But before he could take a step, Cassius's hand shot out, catching his arm with a gentle but firm grip. "Hold on a second." Cassius said, his tone calm but commanding. "You can see her anytime, but first, listen to me. There's a catch—you need to hear this."
Wayne froze, his heart pounding as he turned back to Cassius, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and dread. "What...What is it?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he braced himself for the price of this miracle.
Cassius released his arm, crouching down again so they were eye-to-eye, his expression serious but still tinged with that unsettling smile.
"I can cure her, Wayne." He said, his voice low and deliberate. "Completely, over time. But it's not a one-and-done deal—it'll take regular treatment, a slow process to root out whatever's been eating at her. But I'll do it, keep her going, make her whole again...that is as long as you do what I asked."
"You'll monitor Father here, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Keep him in line, make sure he doesn't pull anything sketchy, anything that could stir up trouble for me. You've got to be thorough though—no slip-ups, no mistakes. Because if you do..." He paused, letting the words hang for a moment, his smile fading into something colder. "If you mess up, and he does something he's not supposed to, there's a punishment."
"...I'll stop the treatments. Your daughter will be left to rot, back in that bed, back on death's doorstep. Simple as that."
Wayne's heart stopped, his hands trembling as the weight of the bargain crashed over him. "You...You'd let her die?" He whispered, his voice shaking with shock and fear. "If I fail, you'd take her away from me—just like that?"
Cassius shrugged, his smile returning as he patted Wayne's shoulder with a casual, almost friendly touch. "Only if you don't do your job." He said, his tone light but edged with a warning.
"But do it well, and she'll be running around like any other kid in no time—healthy, happy, all that good stuff. So, I'm counting on you, Wayne. You're loyal, you're smart and perfect for this. Keep Father in check, and your little girl gets to live...Fair deal, right?" He chuckled, giving Wayne's shoulder a playful squeeze. "Now, go on—run home, see her for yourself. Come find me later, and we'll hash out the details of your new gig. I'll be around."
Wayne hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and hope.
It sounded impossible too good to be true, a trap wrapped in a promise.
But then he thought of everything he'd seen tonight: Cassius tearing through bandits like paper, shrugging off death like a minor inconvenience, speaking with a severed head.
If anyone could defy the impossible, it was this devil.
So, swallowing hard, he made his choice—not for Rodrick, not for himself, but for his beloved.
Without a word, without even glancing at the Patriarch still crumpled on the floor, he bolted for the door, his boots pounding against the blood-stained rug as he raced out into the night, driven by the desperate need to see his daughter alive and well, while Rodrick lifted his head just enough to watch Wayne vanish, a hollow pang in his chest as his loyal aide abandoned him without a second thought.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Cassius suddenly said, his voice low and musing, as he watched Wayne rush to see his daughter. "A father's love for his daughter...Wayne knows she'll probably never be normal—never run through the fields like other girls, never give him those simple joys a healthy child would...And yet, there he goes, throwing everything he has into protecting her, clinging to that fragile little light with all his heart."
"...It's something, isn't it? That kind of devotion."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Rodrick, who remained slumped against the desk, his face a mask of despair.
Cassius's expression then hardened, the gentleness fading into something colder, more accusing. "But you, Father." He said, his voice dropping into a sharp, biting tone. "You're a different story, aren't you? You had a son—an innocent son, fresh into this world, who'd done nothing to you, nothing to deserve your hate. And what did you do? You abandoned him. Tossed him aside like trash, all because his mother—your wife—died bringing me into this mess."
"You couldn't even look at him without seeing her blood on my hands, could you? Wayne's out there fighting for his daughter's life, and you...You couldn't muster a scrap of that for him."
"...Haha...Maybe you could learn a thing or two from your attendant about what it means to be a father."
Rodrick flinched, the words cutting deeper than any blade, slicing through the fragile walls he'd built around his guilt. His hands trembled as memories of his wife Florence—her warm smile, her gentle touch—flashed before him, now tainted by the weight of his choices.
He opened his mouth to protest, to defend himself, but nothing came out, his voice lost to the shame choking him.
Cassius then sighed, a long, theatrical sound that seemed to dismiss the past with a flick of his wrist. "But what's done is done." He said, his tone shifting back to that casual, almost bored cadence. "The past is the past—nothing to be changed now, no matter how much you wallow in it. All that's left is the present, and from here on out, for the rest of your miserable life, you'll pay for those sins you piled up so carelessly."
"...Every choice, every betrayal it's all coming back to you now, Father.And I'll make sure of it."
With that, he turned fully toward the door, as he began to walk away. And as he left his voice drifted back, low and muttering, as if he were talking to himself, lost in some private, twisted delight.
"Hmm, decisions, decisions." He mused, a lewd chuckle bubbling up from his chest. "Should I start with my one of my stepmothers first with those soft curves and that haughty little glare she gives? Or one my dear sister-in-laws, with that elegant stride and those doe eyes?"
"...Or...Why choose?..."
"...Maybe I'll just take them both or four of them together—savor the whole feast at once."
His laughter grew sharper, more wicked, echoing faintly as he stepped into the hall.
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun...I'm looking forward to it."
And finally with those last words, the door creaked shut behind him, his silhouette vanishing into the shadows, leaving Rodrick alone in the study with nothing but the blood-soaked silence and the weight of his own dread.
He sat there, his hands limp at his sides, staring at the empty space where Cassius had been, his mind a whirlwind of horror and regret.
What nightmare had he created?
What monster had he birthed from his own hatred, now set loose to devour everything he held dear?
The estate, the name, his family all of it teetering on the edge of ruin, and he, powerless to stop it, chained to a punishment worse than death.
Slowly, his gaze drifted upward, as if he could pierce through the ceiling, through the roof, and into the heavens themselves. His lips trembled, a faint whisper escaping them as he spoke to the air, to the ghost of the woman he'd loved and lost.
"My dear Florence." He murmured, his voice breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood staining his face. "Was it wrong? What I did—was it truly so wrong? I hated him for taking you from me, for stealing your light...and now, look what's happened."
"...Everything I cherished, everything I loved—it's all crumbling because of him, because of me. Tell me, my love...Was I wrong to curse him? Was this my sin all along?"
The silence offered no answer, no comfort—just the faint echo of Cassius's laughter lingering in the halls, a cruel reminder of the hell Rodrick had forged for himself.
He sank lower, his forehead pressing against the cold floor, his sobs growing quieter as he surrendered to the despair, the weight of his late wife's memory and the ruin of his world pressing down on him like a shroud.
The Holyfield name, once his pride, was now a mockery, and the devil he'd raised would see it through to its bitter, twisted end.
