Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 550: From Judgement To Redemption

Cassius let the murmurs build until nearly every maid and servant had been identified. Then he turned off the projection with a soft click.

The silence that followed was mind-boggling and then Cassius spoke.

"Well." He said, spreading his arms. "Now do you see? Every single one of those scenes you’ve seen—every tear, every scream, every act—was a performance. Nothing more than a play. My maids, these lovely women you see before you, were my cast."

He smiled warmly at them. "And might I say, you all gave truly splendid performances and truly seems to enjoy it all."

The maids lit up, clapping and cheering softly.

"Yes, Young Master!" One of them said brightly. "It was so much fun acting those scenes!"

"I even got to play a princess! The costumes were beautiful!"

Another chimed in, beaming. "Let’s do it again, Young Master! It’s so fun to play make believe like children!"

Cassius chuckled softly. "I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves."

Then he turned back to Joy, his tone growing calm again.

"This is the truth of it, Saintess. The so-called evidence you brought—those videos—are nothing more than my theatrical recordings. An act. My maids were the cast, and I was their lead."

He looked at her with a taunting gaze before saying,

"And now that you’ve seen it for yourself, surely even you can’t believe I actually enslaved anyone or waged war for pleasure, can you?"

Joy’s lips twitched; her fingers twitched as though she were fighting the urge to strike him again.

Her composure was slipping between disbelief, anger, and outright confusion. The narrative she had built in her mind was unraveling too fast to follow.

Meanwhile, Aqua exhaled a long, trembling breath of relief, one hand pressed against her chest.

"Thank the Goddess." She whispered. "So it was all fake..."

Maria, beside her, quietly crossed herself and whispered a short prayer of gratitude.

But even as relief spread through the crowd, Joy’s eyes narrowed once more.

"Fine." She said sharply. "Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that it was all an act. But then explain something, Lord Cassius."

"Why would anyone, let alone a nobleman of your rank, record such vile scenes in the first place? Tell me."

"What could’ve possibly prompted you to create such incriminating scenarios?"

And in response to that, Cassius’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something almost...melancholic.

He looked away for a moment, then back at her with eyes that, for once, held genuine emotion.

"It might seem strange to you." He began quietly. "But it makes perfect sense to me."

Joy’s suspicion deepened. "Explain." She said curtly.

He nodded slowly, almost solemnly before finally saying,

"The truth is...ever since I was young, I’ve always wanted to be an actor."

That caught everyone off guard, not expecting him to suddenly talk about his childhood dreams.

"An actor?" Joy repeated, doubtful.

Cassius nodded gravely. "Yes. You see, when I was a child...I was alone."

The room fell silent again as he continued, his tone heavy and emotional.

"My father abandoned me. Banished me, really. He forbade the rest of the family from even visiting me. Even you, Aqua."

He said softly, glancing at her with a pained smile.

"When we were children, you used to sneak in to see me...but he found out. He sent you back to the capital and made sure I was kept alone in this estate. After that, I saw no one."

"Cassius..." Aqua’s eyes shimmered, her lips parting in disbelief.

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"I had wealth, yes. Comfort, servants, food...but no family. No warmth. Every night I went to sleep in silence, and every morning I woke up in silence. I cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. Sometimes..."

He chuckled softly.

"...I’d wake up to find my pillow soaked through."

Several nuns lowered their heads, guilt and pity flickering in their eyes.

Cassius’s voice softened further. "So, one day, I decided to change that. Even if it was fake—even if it was only pretend—I wanted to feel what it was like to have a family. To laugh. To love. To belong."

He spread his hands gently, smiling with a kind of tragic sincerity.

"So I acted. I played pretend. I acted as my own mother, my own father, my own brother, my own sister...and as myself. I would talk to them at dinner, pretend we were together. I’d switch voices, change tones—"

And then, to everyone’s shock, he began demonstrating.

In a tender, motherly voice, he said softly,

"Oh, my sweet boy...you’ve grown so much. You must have been lonely all this time, haven’t you?"

His tone was gentle and warm, carrying a kind of aching affection that made several nuns instinctively clutch at their hearts.

It was the voice of a mother who had never truly existed, yet somehow it felt so real.

Then, his tone shifted seamlessly—low, resonant, filled with the weight of paternal pride.

"I’m proud of you, son. Truly proud."

He said, his posture straightening as if embodying the presence of a father who had never once praised him.

"Even when the world turns its back on you, remember...you are my pride."

Before anyone could even blink, Cassius’s expression brightened, his voice rising into a playful, childlike tone, full of mischief and laughter.

"Big brother, play with me! Come on, don’t be lazy again! You promised we’d go to the river today!"

He said with such youthful energy that the maids behind him smiled through teary eyes, watching their master revert to a time he never truly had.

Then, in the same moment, his expression softened, and his voice became small and fragile.

"Don’t cry." He whispered in the higher tone of a little sister, trembling faintly as though trying to comfort him. "You still have us, right? We’ll never leave you."

Finally, his voice returned to normal—his own—and he smiled faintly, though it trembled slightly at the corners.

"I love you all."

He said quietly, the words leaving his lips like a prayer, like something he had repeated to an empty room hundreds of times in his youth.

He then stood there for a moment, eyes downcast, and his hand over his heart.

"That...was my family." He murmured softly, his voice heavy but controlled. "The only one I ever had."

Hearing this tragic performance, everyone in the room felt their heart break.

Aqua had both hands over her mouth, tears welling up as her brother’s words struck deep into her chest.

Maria’s eyes were moist, her rosary clutched tightly between trembling fingers, whispering something that sounded like a prayer for comfort.

Even the maids couldn’t help but pity for him.

Cassius chuckled weakly, trying to dispel the weight in the air but only making it heavier.

"Pathetic, isn’t it?" He said, his voice breaking just slightly. "A boy born into wealth, fortune, power...yet spending his nights pretending to have a family. Talking to the shadows. Laughing with echoes."

He raised his eyes to meet theirs, and for once, there was no arrogance, no smugness—only pain masked by a practiced smile.

"That’s why I started acting." He said softly. "Because when I perform, when I play those roles...even for a short while, I’m not alone anymore. For a moment, I can believe that warmth exists...even if it’s just make-believe."

A single tear slipped down his cheek, though he didn’t bother to hide it.

"I suppose." He said with a quiet laugh. "That’s the curse of an actor. We live so many lives, but never truly have one of our own."

The moment Cassius finished speaking, standing there with that quiet, heartbroken smile, the room exploded with emotion.

It was as if a dam had burst—every ounce of pity, sympathy, and grief flooding the hall.

Aqua couldn’t contain herself any longer. Tears welled up in her eyes, and before anyone could stop her, she rushed forward and threw her arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"My little brother—my dear, sweet little brother!" She cried, pressing him tightly against her chest. "You must have suffered so much...all alone, all those years..."

Cassius barely managed a soft. "Aqua, wait—" before his words were muffled as she smothered his face against her warm chest.

She clung to him like she was trying to make up for every moment she hadn’t been there, her tears falling into his hair as she kept repeating.

"You poor thing...you poor, poor thing..."

The maids, already sniffling, couldn’t hold themselves back either.

"Young master!" One cried, dashing forward with tears streaming down her cheeks. "You must have suffered terribly!"

"Oh, my poor young master!" Sobbed another, wiping her eyes as she joined the growing crowd around him. "To think you went through such loneliness all by yourself..."

One of the maids actually stomped her foot in fury.

"I hate your father for doing this to you!" She said passionately. "How could he be so cruel to such a gentle soul?!"

Another clasped her hands dramatically. "If only I had known you back then, Young Master! I would have shown you all the love you needed!"

And just like that, one by one, they surrounded Cassius—hugging him, holding him, crying for him as if he were a wounded puppy they had all sworn to protect.

Cassius, though clearly overwhelmed, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, even with his eyes glistening faintly as if from tears, there was the faintest, most satisfied look on his face

After all, he was being passed from one woman’s soft chest to another, surrounded by warmth, perfume, and softness.

To any onlooker, he looked like a wounded angel being comforted by devoted followers.

But the slight sparkle in his eyes made it clear that their young master was thoroughly enjoying smothering his face in their warm bossoms.

Lucius, standing at the back, was sniffling too—until he suddenly raised his hand.

"Me too! Me too!" He cried, dashing toward them. "I want to hug young master too! Let me comfort him!"

But before he could reach the group, Cassius’s arm shot out with surprising accuracy, catching Lucius by the collar mid-dash and tossing him back like a sack of flour.

"Absolutely not." Cassius said firmly, his tone flat despite the faint smile on his face. "No men allowed."

Lucius, sprawled dramatically on the floor, shouted. "But Young Master, I have a warm heart too!"

Cassius simply ignored him and continued accepting the wave of affectionate sympathy, surrounded on all sides by teary-eyed women pressing against him, consoling him like he was their most precious treasure.

And suprisingly, even the nuns watching the scene, who had been suspicious and hostile mere minutes ago, felt their hearts soften.

A few of them dabbed their eyes with their sleeves. "Poor boy." One murmured. "He’s endured so much..."

Another sighed heavily. "If only I could give him a hug too. It’s so tragic."

But what surprised everyone most was when Maria, of all people, began walking forward with a deeply pitiful look in her eyes.

"Mother!" Joy gasped, grabbing her by the wrist before she could take another step. "What are you doing?! Why are you walking over there?!"

Maria blinked, still staring at Cassius with compassion before saying,

"But Joy, look at him! That pitiful boy—he’s suffered so much! I can’t just stand here and do nothing. I only want to comfort him, maybe say a few words of prayer..."

"Absolutely not." Joy said sharply, glaring. "You stay right here."

Maria pouted softly, lowering her gaze. "But Joy..."

"No ’but Joys,’ Mother." Joy said firmly, holding her in place.

Maria sighed, her lips trembling slightly, but she didn’t fight her daughter’s grip. Instead, she clasped her hands together and began murmuring softly.

"Then at least let me pray for him..."

Meanwhile, Cassius, half-buried in the embrace of his maids and sister, managed to peek up just enough to spot Joy and Maria across the room.

His lips twitched ever so slightly into a victorious smirk which was hidden well beneath the facade of sorrow, as he thought smugly to himself that no worldy riches could compare to the heavenly comfort of this.

And so the once-accused villain stood there, tears shimmering in his eyes, surrounded by warmth, sympathy, and soft embraces—turning the hall of judgment into what could only be described as the most unorthodox redemption scene the Saintess of Judgment had ever witnessed.