Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 142: Sweat, Blood, And Steel

Julie's gaze flicked to Avery, catching the flicker of hesitation etched across the veteran's face as she stood there, her hands clenched at her sides.

The weight of the lost bet hung over her like a storm cloud, her eyes darting between Cassius's grin and the crowd's expectant stares.

Even though the wager had been fair—Avery's own pride had led her into this trap—Julie couldn't shake the unease twisting in her gut. She'd seen what Cassius could do, how he turned simple kisses into spectacles of raw intimacy, and the thought of Avery baring herself completely under his gaze felt like a step too far.

So, steeling herself, she stepped forward as she faced him, her voice steady but laced with a quiet plea.

"Cassius..." She began, her tone measured. "I know Avery lost the bet fair and square, but...can you let the stakes go? Just this once? Stripping down in front of everyone—it's too much for her, too humiliating."

"...I'll vouch for her instead—do something else in her place, whatever you want. Please, for her sake, let it slide."

The crowd murmured, their eyes shifting between Julie and Cassius, waiting for his response.

He als opened his mouth, his grin twitching as if he were about to speak, but before he could, Avery's voice cut through the tension, sharp and resolute.

"Captain, stop." She called, stepping forward with a wry smile tugging at her lips. "You don't need to bail me out. I got myself into this mess—I'll get myself out."

"...I lost, fair and square, and a knight's nothing without her honor. I'm not running from this."

Julie turned to her, her brow furrowing as she protested.

"Avery, you don't have to force yourself. If you don't want to do it, I can speak for you—there's no shame in that."

Avery shook her head, her smile softening but unwavering.

"No, Captain. This is on me. I was too cocky, too damn proud thought I had it in the bag without even considering what could happen...Fair's fair, and I've gotta face the consequences. A knight keeps her word, even when it stings."

Her voice carried a quiet strength, a resolve that silenced Julie's objections and drew a flicker of respect from the crowd.

Cassius leaned back on his stump, his grin widening as he crossed his arms, his eyes glinting with genuine admiration.

"Well, damn." He said, his tone warm and approving. "I'm impressed, Avery—really impressed. That attitude? That grit? Takes a hell of a woman to stand tall in a spot like this. Most'd break, blushing and begging their way out, but you...You're something else."

Julie's breath caught, a flicker of hope sparking as she thought—prayed—he might relent, might spare Avery out of respect for her strength. The crowd seemed to sense it too, their whispers softening as they watched him.

But then his grin twisted, that devilish edge creeping back as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl.

"And that's exactly why I'm not letting this go. Strong women like you? I like them too much to miss a single second of this. So come here—right in front of me."

"...I want the front-row seat to witness every bit of your naked self."

The crowd's dismay rippled outward, a collective groan of "Oh, gods, he's relentless!" And "Poor Avery!" mingling with nervous laughter.

Julie's shoulders slumped, her hope snuffed out, while Aisha muttered a sharp. "Pervert!" under her breath.

But Avery didn't flinch. She'd already accepted her fate, her blush deepening but her stance steady as she took a slow, steady step forward.

The knights parted for her, their eyes wide with pity and a reluctant curiosity as she came to stand directly before Cassius, her slender but sturdy frame silhouetted against his lounging form.

He glanced at her, his grin softening for a heartbeat as he took in her resolve, then flicked his gaze to Lucius, who hovered dutifully at his side, papers still in hand.

Cassius opened his mouth, about to dismiss his butler—likely to spare him the sight of what was coming.

But before the words could escape, Lucius acted.

With a swift, practiced motion, he pulled a black silk blindfold from his pocket, slipping it over his eyes with a bright, almost manic smile.

"No need to send me away, Young Master!" He chirped, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "The problem was me seeing you with these women in their most intimate moments right, right? Well, now I can't!"

"...This blindfold solves it and I'll be able to stay right here by your side, no matter what!"

Cassius blinked, caught off guard. He then waved a hand in front of Lucius's face, testing the blindfold's effectiveness.

"You...really thought of everything, huh?" He said, his tone a blend of amusement and exasperation as Lucius's grin widened.

"Of course!" Lucius exclaimed, practically vibrating with pride. "I'd do anything to stay with you, Young Master—anything! Besides..." His voice dropped to a dreamy murmur, his blindfolded head tilting as if lost in a vision. "Why would I want to see some woman bare or tangled up with you when I could see you instead?"

"...Your glorious form, stripped down to the flesh—oh, it'd be a sight so marvelous it'd blind me all on its own, more dazzling than any star!"

Hearing this scandalous statement, the crowd's murmurs erupted into a chaotic buzz, knights whispering among themselves with wide-eyed shock.

"Wait—did he just say...?" One stammered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"Stories about the butler and the master—in bed?!" Another hissed, her blush flaring as she elbowed her neighbor.

"Damn, so he doesn't even leave men behind. What a beast!..." A third muttered, her tone half-scandalized, half-intrigued.

Seeing that his reputation was being tarnished by his damn butler, Cassius's scowl deepened, his hand snapping out to smack Lucius across the face with a sharp thwack.

"Shut up, you idiot!"

He barked, his voice a full of irritation and embarrassment as Lucius yelped, rubbing his cheek but still beaming beneath the blindfold.

Cassius glared at him a moment longer, then sighed, settling back onto the stump with a shake of his head.

"Goddamn weirdo."

He muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting back to Avery, who stood waiting, her blush steady but her eyes resolute.

Her gaze also dropped to her young master, sprawled on his stump with that unrelenting grin, and a whirlwind of thoughts churned through her mind.

She steeled herself, trying to rationalize it.

'He's just a boy.' She thought, her lips pressing into a thin line. 'Barely out of his teens, still wet behind the ears, smelling of his mother's milk...I'm pushing forty in a few years—stripping for him shouldn't be a big deal, not compared to what I've seen, what I've done.'

It was a flimsy shield, a way to dull the edge of her nerves, but as she met his eyes, that reasoning crumbled.

His crimson gaze locked onto her, sharp and piercing, raking over her body with an intensity that felt like he was already peeling away her armor, her tunic, every stitch of fabric clinging to her skin.

It wasn't the look of a boy—it was a man's stare, hungry and commanding, unraveling her layer by layer before she'd even lifted a finger.

Her breath hitched, a flush creeping up her neck as she realized the sheer power he held—not just the strength she'd witnessed in battle, the way he'd dismantled foes with ease, but the control he wielded now, sitting there like a king on a throne, dictating her fate with a flick of his wrist.

He wasn't some kid; he was a force, a presence that dwarfed every man she'd known, and the weight of that made her heart pound harder, her resolve wavering as a new worry gnawed at her.

She swallowed, her throat dry, and decided she couldn't let it pass unaddressed.

"Young Master..." She called out, her voice hesitant but steady, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she met his gaze. "Look, I don't mind stripping down since I lost the bet fair and square, and I'll do it."

"But...can I ask you for a favor first? Let me step away for a few minutes—just a quick break—and I'll be right back, standing here, ready to strip down like I promised."

"...I swear I'm not running off or anything; there's just something I need to do first. For your sake, really."

Cassius tilted his head, his grin softening into something curious as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"Oh?" He said, his voice a low, intrigued drawl. "For my sake? Now you've got me hooked—what's this thing you've gotta do that's so important? Come on, elaborate. I wanna know."

Avery shifted on her feet, her smile faltering as a flush crept up her cheeks. It was a private matter, one she'd never aired out—not to men, not even to her closest female comrades. It felt brutish, embarrassing, a raw piece of herself she kept buried.

But his eyes held a sincerity, an honest glint that promised no judgment, and that cracked her reluctance.

She took a breath, her voice dropping as she spoke.

"Well, if you give me a little time..." She said, hesitating. "I'd...go take a bath and come right back here. That's all."

Cassius raised a brow, his grin twitching with amusement. "A bath?" He echoed, leaning back. "Okay, I get that you might want to take a bath after a workout? But why's that for my sake?"

Her wry smile returned, tinged with a self-conscious edge as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Well, it's...more than that." She said, her voice softening. "I sweat a lot—always have. After a fight, a duel, even a bit of exercise, I get drenched, and it's not just sweat. I get...stinky."

"Even now, standing here, I'm probably reeking—smell's strong enough to knock a horse flat. And that's the thing—there's no way I can let myself strip down in front of you like this, all rank and nasty."

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"...You're a noble, Young Master. You shouldn't have to breathe in something this bad, not from me."

He chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Okay, so you stink a little, everyone does after some workout. What's wrong with that? It's natural."

"Of course there's something wrong with it!" She shot back, her tone sharpening with frustration and embarrassment. "I can't stand here next to you, my lord, smelling like a damn barn! You're highborn—used to fine things, clean air, perfumes maybe."

"...I'd be mortified if you had to choke on my stench while I'm baring it all. It's not right."

Her voice faltered, a pitiful look crossing her face as she glanced down, her bravado giving way to something softer, sadder.

"You know, even my ex-husband...he never liked it either. Always hated how I smelled when I came home from patrol or a fight—sweat, blood, whatever it was. He'd push me away, tell me not to come near him till I'd bathed, said it made him sick."

"E-Even in bed, sometimes, he'd turn me out—said I was too rank to touch, too unattractive like that."

"...Hurt more than I let on, but I got used to it. So...I just don't want you to feel that way too, Young Master. Don't want you disgusted by me."

The crowd fell silent, a wave of empathy rippling through the knights as her words sank in. Several women sighed, their faces softening with shared pain.

"Gods, I've been there." One murmured, her voice low.

"My husband would also move away if I came in smelling of steel and sweat—told me to wash it off like it was filth." Another nodded, her eyes distant.

"Mine said the blood on my hands made him queasy—never mind I'd spilled it for him, for our home."

Their whispers carried a quiet hurt, a sting they'd buried under duty—accepted because it made sense at the time, even as it chipped away at them, made them feel less than the soft, perfumed women who never lifted a blade.

Avery's confession laid it bare, and they felt it echo in their own bones. She then forced a laugh, a brittle, self-deprecating sound.

"It happened more times than I can count—him shoving me off, saying I stank so bad it turned his stomach...Guess I got it in my head I'm some ogre when I'm like this, too foul for anyone to stand."

"...So that's why I need a bath. I don't wanna put you through that, Young Master. Don't wanna see that look on your face too."

The knights' murmurs grew, their pity mingling with a shared ache as they nodded among themselves.

"Poor Avery." One whispered, her voice thick.

"She's tougher than steel, and still..." Another sighed.

"It's rotten—fighting for them, and they can't even take us as we are."

Julie's jaw tightened, these women bled for their homes, their people, and yet their lovers couldn't stomach the cost of it, couldn't love the sweat and steel that defined them. It was a quiet tragedy, one she hasn't felt herself, but still could understand.

Aisha scoffed, breaking the hush with a sharp edge. "Pathetic." She spat, her tail flicking as she crossed her arms. "Men like that—can't handle a little sweat from their own wives? Weaklings, the lot of them. I'd claw their eyes out before I'd let them push me away for that."

Skadi tilted her head, her eyes blinking in genuine confusion as she scratched her ear.

"Why's it a big deal?" She asked, her voice light and puzzled. "I smell stuff a hundred times stronger then you humans—Fenrir nose, you know? And sweat, blood, whatever that comes after a good fight, it's refreshing! Like...the battle's still on you, alive and kicking. Don't get why they're fussing."

Her tail wagged faintly, oblivious to the weight of it all, her innocence a stark contrast to the crowd's heavy empathy.

Avery glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the ache in her words.

"Wish everyone thought like you, Skadi." She said softly, then turned back to Cassius, her eyes pleading but resolute. "So...just a few minutes, Young Master. Let me wash up—for you, so you don't have to suffer me like this. Then I'll be back, clean and ready to pay up."

The crowd held its breath, their gazes shifting to Cassius, waiting for his answer as Avery stood there, bared not just by the bet but by the raw honesty she'd spilled—a knight stripped to her soul before her flesh even hit the air...