Ever since that fateful day when Cassius purged his mansion and uprooted the traitors from within, the Holyfield household—once the very embodiment of stability and power, a family whose influence rivaled that of royalty itself—began to quake for the first time in years.
The once-proud servants who used to walk with their heads held high now moved cautiously, their gazes averted, their steps careful as though afraid of drawing attention.
Tension choked the air within the estate, an invisible storm looming over the grand halls that had once been filled with certainty.
Even beyond the mansion’s walls, the commoners of Holyfield couldn’t help but murmur amongst themselves, their voices laced with curiosity and apprehension.
What happened?
Why does the estate feel…different?
What exactly did Cassius Vindictus Holyfield do?
At first, the whispers were fragmented, uncertain. But soon enough, they spread like wildfire, each telling more exaggerated than the last.
The rumors painted a damning picture—one of lust, coercion, and excess.
According to the scandal that was shaking the noble world, Cassius had gathered all the maids in his household and, abusing his power as their master, forced himself upon them, using his authority to coax them into submission.
It was shocking. It was monstrous. It was an unforgivable stain upon the Holyfield name—a name once regarded as a symbol of purity, now dragged through the mud in the worst way possible.
And yet…the reality was something else entirely.
The maids had willingly thrown themselves into his embrace. They had offered themselves up, worshipped him in ways that the rumors never mentioned. And in the end, each and every one of them had left that night with satisfaction and a sense of belonging they had never known before.
But rumors rarely cared for the truth. And what had been a night of pleasure and devotion was twisted into something vile—a scandal so heinous it sent shockwaves throughout the noble society.
Yet, despite the chaos his name was being dragged through, Cassius himself…
Was completely unbothered.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
In a secluded part of the Holyfield estate, beneath the shade of a grand willow tree, Cassius lay on the grass, his hands placed casually behind his head, his eyes shut as if he were enjoying a peaceful nap.
The world could scream his name in scandal all it wanted—he couldn’t care less.
Beside him, Portia Albina, his head maid, sat gracefully, holding a bunch of fresh grapes in her hand. She plucked one carefully and brought it to his lips with an amused smile, delighting in the simple act of feeding him.
"Here, Master~" She cooed softly, clearly enjoying herself.
Cassius lazily parted his lips, allowing her to slip the grape into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction, his expression one of pure relaxation, as if he hadn’t a single worry in the world.
Not far from them, Isabelle was meticulously brewing his tea, her hands steady as she carefully measured each ingredient. Beside her, Lucious—his ever-loyal butler—was slicing a fresh loaf of bread, helping Isabelle prepare sandwiches as if this were nothing more than a pleasant afternoon picnic.
Compared to how any other noble might have reacted when caught in the middle of such a scandalous controversy, Cassius acted as if he didn’t even know it existed.
It was almost surreal.
Portia, watching his relaxed expression, couldn’t help but giggle. "Master." She murmured, her voice laced with amusement. "Aren’t you even a little curious about what people are saying about you?"
Cassius let out a slow breath, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating the question. Then, without opening his eyes, he smirked. "I already know what they’re saying." He murmured lazily. "And frankly, I don’t care."
Isabelle, who had just finished preparing the tea, glanced over. "But Master..." She said, her tone neutral but curious. "The rumors…They’re horrendous."
Lucious, setting down the sliced bread, nodded in agreement. "The way they’re telling it, you sound like some depraved villain who spends his days preying on the innocent." He added, shaking his head. "It’s absurd."
Cassius finally cracked an eye open, glancing between them. His smirk only deepened. "And?" He drawled.
Lucious blinked. "And—well, doesn’t that bother you, Young Master?"
Cassius let out a low chuckle. "Lucious." He said, stretching his arms above his head lazily. "What exactly do you expect me to do? March up to every noble in the kingdom and correct them? Explain in detail how everything was completely consensual? Should I personally go door to door and tell them that my maids spent the night willingly throwing themselves at me?"
Lucious’s lips parted, but before he could say anything, Cassius turned his gaze toward Portia, who was still feeding him grapes.
"Tell me, Portia." He asked. "Do you feel violated?"
Portia nearly snorted at the absurdity of the question. "Of course not, Master." She purred. "I’m quite satisfied, actually."
Cassius turned to Isabelle next, watching as she carefully poured his tea. "Isabelle." He continued, his voice teasing. "Do you feel like you were forced into anything?"
Isabelle, cheeks dusting a faint pink at the implication, stiffened slightly before shaking her head. "…No." She admitted quietly. "I wasn’t forced at all and r-rather enjoyed it."
Cassius smirked. "And there you have it." He leaned back onto the grass again, closing his eyes once more. "Let them talk. Let them cry scandal. The people who matter—the ones who were actually involved—know the truth."
Lucious sighed, rubbing his temple. "Master, you’re impossible."
Cassius chuckled. "I prefer untouchable."
Isabelle and Portia both giggled at his antics, their amusement clear despite the lingering worry in their eyes.
They trusted their master, but even they couldn’t deny that the scandal surrounding him was growing larger by the day. Whispers were turning into roars, and soon enough, even the most powerful nobles would have to take a stance.
And yet, here he was—lounging under a tree, indulging in fresh grapes, and acting as though he hadn’t a single care in the world.
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It was almost comical.
Almost.
But while the maids could still laugh about it, Lucious could not.
Because he knew the truth.
Unlike Isabelle and Portia—who only saw the rumors as an unfortunate consequence of that fateful night—Lucious knew exactly who had spread them.
Not the maids.
Not the traitorous servants who had been purged.
Not even a noble looking to take Cassius down.
No...It had been Cassius himself.
At first, Lucious had expected rumors to naturally arise after what happened in the estate. The nature of noble households made it impossible to keep everything under wraps. Because of that, he had already started putting measures in place to silence any leaks before they could begin.
With his resources and influence as Cassius’s butler, it wouldn’t have been difficult to contain the situation before it even became a whisper in noble society.
But when he had brought the matter up to Cassius, expecting to receive approval for his discretion—
Cassius had merely smacked him lightly on the head and said, "Why are you sabotaging my plans, you idiot?"
Lucious had been stunned.
It was only then that Cassius revealed his intention—to spread the rumors himself. And not just any rumors, but the absolute worst possible version of them. He had given explicit orders for the information to be exaggerated, for it to sound as scandalous as possible, and for it to reach the ears of every influential noble family.
Lucious, for the first time in a long while, had tried to argue against his master’s decision.
"Master, if this gets out of hand, it could completely ruin your reputation!" He had warned. "This isn’t something you can come back from with just a few political maneuvers. Do you really want this to be what people think of you?"
But Cassius had only given him a mysterious smile. "It’s necessary." He had said. "...To spread the goddess’s gospel."
Lucious still had no idea what the hell that meant.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Before he could press further, Cassius had made another equally bizarre statement:
"With this, I’ve put out a light for someone waiting in the dark. Now, I just have to wait for him to bite."
Lucious had no clue who he was referring to, what he was waiting for, or why this entire mess was necessary. But, as always, he had no choice but to follow orders.
And so, despite every instinct screaming at him to contain the scandal, he had done the opposite—he had fed it. He had ensured that the rumors spread far and wide, reaching the ears of nobles, merchants, and even commoners alike. The Holyfield name, once revered as a pillar of stability, was now steeped in disgrace.
All because his master wanted it to be.
Still, there was one thing that confused Lucious even further.
When he had asked Cassius whether he should also spread rumors of what had happened to the male servants—the ones who had been purged from the estate—he had assumed his master would agree.
After all, spreading that information would have been useful in shifting the narrative. It would have cast Cassius as a terrifying and merciless figure, rather than a depraved noble obsessed with bedding his maids.
It would have reinforced the idea that this Cassius Holyfield was not the same one from before—that he was not someone to be underestimated.
But to his surprise, Cassius had merely waved a hand and said, "How can I allow that when I’m trying to be low-key?"
Lucious had been baffled.
Low-key?
His master claimed he wanted to keep a low profile, yet he was allowing rumors far worse than murder to spread without hesitation.
The contradiction made no sense.
And yet, Cassius had said it so casually—so dismissively—before ordering Lucious to ensure that the purging of the male servants was silenced entirely.
Lucious didn’t understand it. He had no way of predicting what his master was thinking, or what his ultimate goal was.
But despite his concerns, despite the unease that gnawed at his stomach, he still trusted him.
Cassius always had a plan...Atleast Lucious thought he did.
And so, with nothing else to do but wait for whatever came next, Lucious focused on what was in front of him.
He quietly continued making sandwiches, slicing through the bread with precision. But every so often, as he worked, his eyes flickered toward Cassius—who was still lying on the grass with his arms behind his head, completely at peace.
Lucious studied him carefully, waiting, wondering.
Just what are you planning, Young Master?