Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 46: Why Her?

A eave of unease spread through the women as they realised what this meant, even though they didn’t have a clue about what was actually going to happen.

"I’ve decided." Cassius continued. "To make an example of someone...Just a little demonstration of what happens to those who keep secrets from me."

Whispers filled the room.

"Who’s he going to pick?"

"Not me…Please, not me."

"He wouldn’t dare…would he?"

Cassius allowed the tension to build, his smirk widening as his expression darkened with amusement. He wanted them to stew in their own panic, to feel the creeping dread of the unknown.

Then, just as the suspense reached its peak, he exhaled softly and murmured:

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall…"

The women tensed.

"Who is the prettiest among you all?"

His crimson gaze scanned the room slowly, his finger lazily dragging through the air as if he were deciding at random. The women watched in horror, some sucking in sharp breaths as his finger passed over them, their hands trembling as they prayed it wouldn’t land on them.

Until—

His finger stopped.

Right at the back of the room.

The breathless tension shattered as the women turned their heads to see who the unfortunate soul was. And when they saw her, realization struck.

A single girl.

One who had been standing silently, composed, not uttering a single word in panic like the others.

Golden hair, neatly bound.

Blue eyes, clear and unwavering.

An abundant figure that was unmistakable.

It was her.

Cassius’s smirk widened with delighted amusement.

"Well, well." He purred, his voice carrying a quiet, predatory thrill. "Look who we have here."

The room dropped to an ice-cold temperature.

The women could only stare in stunned silence as the unfortunate soul turned out to be none other than—

Isabelle.

His ever-so-devoted maid.

The only one who had not panicked.

The only one who had stood firm without fear.

And exactly the one Cassius had wanted all along.

His eyes shone as he took a slow, deliberate step toward her, and the moment Cassius’s finger landed on Isabelle, a heavy silence fell over the room. The women stared in stunned disbelief, their expressions shifting from fear to something closer to...pity.

Out of everyone... Why her?

Of all the women present, Isabelle was, without question, the most innocent. She was the one person among them who had likely never even thought of committing a crime. Let alone actually doing so.

This was a girl who donated half of her earnings to various charities, insisting that she didn’t need the generous salary the Holyfield estate provided. She had always said she was fine as long as she had a roof over her head and three meals a day. The rest, she claimed, was better used for those who needed it more.

She was the kind of person who sincerely believed in doing good. Not because it benefitted her, but because she genuinely wanted to help. She also had dreams beyond simply being a maid, unlike the rest of them, who were satisfied with their positions.

And now, she was the one Cassius had chosen...Of all the people.

A sinking feeling spread through the crowd.

Even those who had little emotional attachment to her couldn’t deny that it was unfair. Isabelle didn’t deserve this. If anything, she was the last person who should be made an example of.

But no one spoke up.

No one dared to.

Because despite the pity they felt, none of them were willing to risk stepping into her place.

They weren’t foolish enough to play hero.

The sad reality was that, while they felt bad, they also preferred it this way. If it had to be someone, then let it be her.

Cassius observed the silent moral conflict with quiet amusement.

’Ah, humans. So hypocritical. So selfish. And yet, so predictable.’ He thought as if he weren’t human himself.

Not a single one of them would protest. Not a single one would dare challenge his decision.

Because at the end of the day, self-preservation always won.

And that was exactly what he had expected.

Cassius let the silence settle, allowing the tension to coil tighter, feeding on the heavy pressure pressing down on the room. Then, with the slow precision of a noble who expected obedience, he called out again.

This time, his tone was sharper, laced with something cold and condescending.

"Isabelle." He said her name lazily, as if it was almost beneath him to repeat it. "Did you not hear me the first time?"

And the moment he did call out to her, her shift in her demeanour was immediate.

Her composed stance broke like delicate glass, her bright blue eyes widening with something close to shock. Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time, hesitation flickered across her usually unwavering features.

Then, she stumbled back half a step, her fingers clenching at the fabric of her apron, twisting it as if searching for something to ground her.

"Y-Young Master!" She breathed, her voice laced with disbelief, almost too soft to be heard. "There must be some mistake."

Her words trembled as she spoke them, barely holding herself together. Her head shook slightly, golden strands of hair slipping from their bindings, making her look even more fragile. "I-I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything. I have always been loyal to you. I hope you know this."

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Her breath softened slightly at the end, her chest rising and falling as though she was desperately trying to contain herself.

And then, in a move Cassius had not expected, she turned toward the crowd.

A pleading look overtook her features, her large, glistening eyes scanning the sea of familiar faces.

"Tell him, please!" She begged, her voice rising in desperation. "You all know me. You know I would never—"

Silence...A heavy, suffocating silence.

Not a single voice came to her aid.

The very people who, just moments ago, had exchanged nervous glances with her, who had looked to her for reassurance, now refused to meet her gaze.

Some stared at the floor, shifting uncomfortably. Others clenched their hands together, their fingers twisting as if to distract themselves from what was happening.

But none of them spoke...Not a single one.

And for the first time, Isabelle’s expression cracked.

Her lips opened slightly, a soft, nearly inaudible breath escaping her as her shoulders curled inward, her frame visibly shrinking.

Her hands trembled at her sides, her nails digging into the soft fabric of her dress as she looked back at them. Her peers. The people she had worked alongside for years.

"Please." She whispered, the word barely holding itself together. "You know me..."

And still, nothing.

Cassius watched Isabelle tremble, her delicate fingers fiddling at her apron, her eyes wandering around in a perfect display of shock and devastation.

Her voice, soft and quivering, showing a tale of innocence. Her pleading eyes sought support from the very people who had just moments ago looked to her for reassurance.

And yet, despite all that...Not a single one of them spoke up for her.

It was perfect.

This was exactly how it was supposed to go. The fear, the hesitation, the self-preservation overriding any sense of morality—it was all predictable and expected.

But what wasn’t expected for Cassius, however, was Isabelle herself.

Cassius had chosen her for this role. She had agreed to it. They had spoken this morning, laying out the strategy. She was meant to be the ’example’, the sacrificial piece used to drag out the real traitors from their holes.

And yet…The way she was acting now.

It wasn’t quite what he had planned.

She was too convincing...Too shaken...Too devastated.

Almost as if…She had forgotten everything they discussed.

Cassius narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of confusion passing through him as he studied her closer.

Is she improvising?

That would make sense. After all, he had never explicitly told her how to act. He had only told her to play the part of an accused traitor.

But this?...This felt too real.

The way her voice wavered, the way her body curled inward ever so slightly, like someone truly abandoned. The way she seemed genuinely lost, as if she truly believed she had been falsely accused.

Cassius watched, unable to figure out what to believe.

This was wrong. Not in the sense that it was off-track from his plan—if anything, the crowd’s reactions were exactly what he had wanted. They were buying every bit of it, believing in her despair, in her desperation.

But he wasn’t convinced.

Is she truly acting? Or has she convinced even herself?

The question lingered in his mind, but he had no time to indulge it. Not now. He had a role to play, and he would play it well.

His smirk faded, replaced by a slow, unimpressed frown. He let the silence stretch, letting the weight of his gaze press down on her like an iron brand.

"Come here, Isabelle."

His words were quiet, but the authority in them left no room for refusal.

The crowd tensed. Isabelle herself stiffened, hesitation flickering across her features. She remained still, frozen in place, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

Cassius narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to come here on your own?" He asked, voice dipping into something heavier, something more commanding. "Or do I have to drag you here myself?"

Unease spread through the women, many thinking that they were wrong to think that he was the same master they could push around in the past.

Isabelle looked at the floor, like she was having an internal debate in her mind. She then exhaled shakily—then, with reluctant steps, she began making her way to the front.

Cassius watched her closely.

Too slow...Too hesitant.

Yet, the way she held herself, the way she forced herself forward despite her supposed fear—it was perfect.

He had to give her credit. She was damn good at this.

When she finally reached him, she kept her gaze lowered, refusing to look directly at him. Cassius let the silence drag for a second longer, then took a step forward.

Closer...Closer...Until he was right in front of her.

Until there was barely an inch between them.

A collective hush fell over the crowd, no one knowing what was about to happen next.

From their perspective, it looked exactly as he intended. Like a depraved noble admiring his prey, drinking in the beauty of the trembling girl before him.

It looked disgusting...It looked wrong.

And that was precisely what made them even more terrified.

But in reality—

"Isabelle." Cassius murmured so quietly that only she could hear. "What the are you doing? Did you forget that you’re in on this?"

Isabelle, who had been keeping her eyes cast downward, suddenly lifted her gaze to meet his.

And just like that—everything changed.