Last Born Of The Desdemona

Chapter 258: Chapter 258: Burial Under The Rain

Chapter 258 – Burial Under The Rain

Naomi Holloway was completely cornered. She looked at Cassius smiling gently at her in that situation, and saw a devil waiting to drag her into the deepest pit of Hell.

She tried to bite her lip, but her jaw hurt so badly that the simple motion sent fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.

She looked around, hoping to spot anything that might save her. But to her growing horror, Cassius had already destroyed every object that could have been used as a weapon during their brief battle.

As if he’d been expecting this from the start.

Turning her eyes back to him, Naomi felt despair bloom in her chest, swelling until all hope had turned to ash, and worse.

”You understand now, don’t you?” Cassius continued, still whispering despite the soundproofing, ”You have no choice but to accept what I command.”

”You’re a hypocritical bastard.” Naomi spat, helpless, trying to stop herself from breaking into choked sobs, ”You’re a damn hypocrite, Cassius Desdemona. Here you are, playing the hero with your high morals, as if you’ve never humiliated a servant!”

”I never have.” Cassius replied calmly, opening the Death Contract, ”I don’t discriminate between servants, nobles, and commoners. I don’t care about someone’s status. What I care about is who’s with me and who’s against me.”

He lifted his crimson eyes, smiling wider.

”You could be a king himself, and if you’re against me and my family, your title would mean nothing to me. Did that answer your question, sweetheart?”

He placed the Death Contract in her trembling hand, and continued,

”I’m not doing this because of what you did to a servant. I’m doing this because of what you did to Coco. But you clearly can’t separate the person from the status. It’s fine, though, he’ll teach you soon enough. Now...”

He pointed at the Death Contract with his index finger.

”...sign this contract, Naomi Holloway. You have three seconds. After that, it’ll be your legs.”

Naomi shuddered at the threat, her eyes dropping to the Death Contract. As a member of the Kingdom, she knew exactly how dreadful this contract was.

She knew that signing it would seal her fate forever, transforming her into the very thing she despised most.

The thought of living out the rest of her life as a maid — a lowly maid — made Naomi wish for death instead.

But she was far too much of a coward to accept death willingly. That became clear when, after three seconds, Cassius took hold of her left leg and snapped her ankle.

A cracking sound rang out along with Naomi’s throaty scream, shaking the room.

”I-I’ll sign! I’ll sign!!!” She bellowed, wailing, desperate to stop Cassius from moving to her other leg.

He paused, then nodded, ”Then please, do so.”

And sign the contract, she did.

The moment she did, she felt an absolute bonding power seize her very soul, handing complete control of herself over to Cassius.

That realization sent Naomi spiraling into chaos — wails, curses, and every manner of psychic rage tangling together into something feral and beastly.

Cassius didn’t move. He knelt there, eyes fixed on Naomi as she visibly lost her sense of self.

He watched her, seeing exactly what happened to someone who’d built her entire identity around what she was, rather than who she was, once that distinction was stripped away.

It was pathetic, yet Cassius stared at Naomi as if memorizing a lesson he never wanted to forget. Because there existed an alternate reality where he might have built his own identity around the name ”Angel.”

A dangerous thing to do. Anything could be lost or broken. A Name was no exception.

’Names, huh...people in this world hand out names as if they define you. As if to say...this is who you are, and now we know it. But a Name is never the whole truth of someone. Never the full story. And a half-truth can lead to catastrophe if Lady Luck decides to look away from you. Isn’t that exactly what happened? ”Angel” is a half-truth. Coco believed it, and practically died for it.’

That thought led Cassius to a realization about himself,

’I refuse to be defined by a Name given to me by anyone.’

Because they would never truly understand who he was, not when even he didn’t fully understand himself.

’I am many things, all of them contradictory, which means I am...nothing but Cassius Desdemona, Last Born of the Desdemona.’

That thought settled his core identity. And once he grasped it, the many doubts murmuring in his mind fell completely silent.

Taking a deep breath, exhaling, Cassius turned his attention back to Naomi, sprawled on the ground, her eyes listless.

”I have no need for you.” He said, standing, ”and my anger at you is laughable compared to the wrath Cripple holds for you.”

That name made Naomi flinch. She turned her head to look at him, eyes widening in horror as if she already knew where this was going.

”I’m giving you to Cripple, Naomi.” Cassius confirmed her fears, ”You will be his maid, and he has every right to kill you, if he wishes.”

”N-No...no...please, no...”

”Oh, but yes. I don’t have time to waste on you. Still, I’ll give you one order: I want you to blame Emrys Stormblessed for your sorry state, understood?”

He turned and walked toward the door,

”But it’ll look suspicious if everything points straight to him. The sharper ones might notice something’s off.” He tilted his head, ”So find a man, beat him, and make him say it was me. It’ll deflect suspicion. Failing to follow my orders means your soul is mine to do with as I please, in case you didn’t know.”

He reached the door and paused. Pulling the Cloak of Invisibility from his pocket, he put it on before finally stepping out, leaving Naomi with one last line:

”I do hope you enjoy your life as a maid, Naomi, before your ultimate end. I truly do.”

Clack—!

Naomi was left alone in the room, her body aching everywhere. But none of it hurt as much as her soul, which she felt the urge to tear straight out of herself.

She pushed herself off the ground, whimpering and crying, and limped toward the bathroom, blood trailing behind her.

Inside, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The face staring back wasn’t Naomi Holloway, 10th ranker of the second year.

It was Naomi Holloway, the slave maid.

And her mind broke.

”AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

...

It started raining.

That was Cassius’s first thought as he exited the building and walked through the streets toward a more deserted part of the Outer Ring.

Or more precisely, toward the graveyard.

He let the rain fall over him, salty and soft. He savored the sensation, the water dripping from his forehead to his chin, the soaked feeling settling into his clothes.

He let himself feel it all, using it to distract from what he was about to do. But distraction could only carry someone so far.

His mind returned to the present, and he found himself already at the graveyard.

Taking a deep breath, he walked deeper in, toward a more secluded spot. There, Cassius pulled out a shovel, rolled his sleeves past his elbows, and began digging into the soil.

It was hard work, but the rain helped soften the ground.

He could have done it effortlessly if his power hadn’t been sealed by his master. But his physical strength would have to do that night.

That rainy night.

So Cassius dug, letting his thoughts drift over the small moments he’d shared with Coco.

Her innocent smile, her heavy makeup that had been meant to hide her deplorable state more than anything else, and her eyes that always lit up whenever she saw him, despite being clouded by pain and despair.

He realized, mid-dig, that he’d rarely met anyone as strong as Coco. If he’d ever met one at all.

Because it took a tremendous amount of inner strength to endure daily abuse like that and still smile, still try to live as fully as she could.

Most people would have crumbled into despair, wishing for death.

’Not you, Coco. You kept fighting, relentlessly. You did, Coco. You truly did. I’m sorry you never got what you wanted out of this life.’

And it was in that moment that having a god to believe in offered a grieving person some semblance of closure.

Cassius didn’t believe in Vorn. But that particular night, he needed the rites of the Church of Death to properly mourn Coco.

Once the grave was deep enough, Cassius lifted Coco’s body and gently laid it inside.

He stood there watching for a moment, then took up the shovel again, ready to fill in the hole.

”In the Church of Death,” Cassius whispered to the dead, ”they say there’s life after death. A life where the dead dwell within the Kingdom of Death, governed by Vorn himself. The kindest, purest souls, and those who died unjustly, find shelter under the Lord of Death’s shade, granted eternal life and compensation for all they endured.”

He smiled, ”Allow us to believe you’ll be far happier there, Coco, and find peace in that belief.”

With that thought, Cassius swiftly closed the grave and raised a tombstone, carving Coco Jones’s name and date of death onto it, along with one line:

’Your death is not meaningless.’

After that, Cassius stood there, hands and clothes caked in mud, rain still falling, and closed his eyes softly.

”Let’s meet again, Coco.”

—End of Chapter 258—