Tamed A Blackened Slave Man - Chapter 42: He Is Likely To Be The Culprit Of The Crown Prince’s Poisoning

The night before Damian regained his consciousness.

Cassadin quietly peered down at his sister, who had fallen asleep from the fatigue of crying too much.

Her well-treated platinum hair shone brightly under the moonlight. Her long eyelashes still retained teardrops, no matter how much he wiped them away.

Careful not to wake Aren, Cassadin carefully wiped away the tears in her eyes with the back of his hand.

Aren was someone who resembled the moon more than the sun. The sun was too bright to look at, but the moon was not.

The moon that shone gently on the dark streets did not boast about itself. It only brightened the darkness and gave quiet yet warm comfort to the people.

Maybe she had been created with the stars in the night sky.

Cassadin sometimes thought so when he looked at Aren.

She had always acted reservedly, whatever happened. And because she had done so, he thought she didn’t know how to cry.

But that Aren shed tears after hearing his story. How had he felt after seeing her tears?

She was an angel who had accepted him, and he only knew how to feel hatred.

She was a kind sister who brought in a slave without a drop of blood related to her as a younger brother.

That’s why he acted even more like an immature child.

I’ve done this much, so she’ll definitely give up on me. She’ll no longer try to bother me.

He continued to test the woman, who had accepted him like a wild beast.

However, despite knowing all of this, Aren continued to accept him. She was the only person not related by blood to him, who had shed tears for him.

Cassadin was saved.

So he didn’t have a single inch of regret for confessing his past to Aren.

If she had been no different from others, he would have already been dragged away to the gallows the moment they realized he was the Crown Prince of the Hyran Kingdom.

But Aren hadn’t done that.

Until now, the only objective in Cassadin’s life was revenge. His life had been full of resentment and hatred for this nation, which had taken everything from him. And the single ray of life he met within this miserable life was Aren.

What would be left of him once he had completed his revenge? Cassadin had thought about it over and over until he made the decision to go to the banquet.

If he hadn’t gone to the banquet, then those disgusting flies would have come for his sister. Just thinking about him made his stomach lurch and his mind spin.

That was why he decided to go to the banquet, even though he had to reveal his past in return.

But was he truly satisfied with just being her brother?

The answer was no.

From the first moment he had seen her up until now, he hadn’t considered Aren his sister for a single second.

Looking down at Aren, asleep in his arms, dressed in her gown, Cassadin had debated internally for a long time.

Was it truly right for him to change her clothes? Wouldn’t she dislike it if she realized?

As Cassadin changed Aren’s clothes, he called to God for the first time in his life.

Oh, God. This is just because her clothes looked so uncomfortable.

His two eyes clenched tightly, and Cassadin quickly changed Aren’s clothes with trembling hands. But it wasn’t like the weird thoughts had gone away just because he closed his eyes.

Every single time his hand grazed against her smooth skin, he needed to use every last bit of willpower within him to hold onto his sanity.

Cassadin lay down next to his sleeping sister. The night air must be cold for Aren, as she was shivering slightly even with the blanket.

Before he had any time to think, his body had already moved.

Just like his sister had once hugged him, he gently embraced her. The movement of his hand gently patting her back was incredibly soft out of the fear that she might break if handled roughly.

When his warmth was delivered to Aren, her shivering stopped.

After a long time holding Aren in his arms, Cassadin headed not to his room, but Tuule’s.

That night, Tuule was having a hard time sleeping.

Comfortable clothes that didn’t restrict his body, a warm room, and a large and fluffy bed were all incredibly generous things for a slave.

Lying down on the bed, Tuule gazed up at the ceiling. And he thought about Aren, the woman who had not hesitated to give him all of these precious things.

Even when he said absurd things about how his tongue had been cut off but was back, she believed him.

When he was being tortured at Damian’s duchy, he was treated worse than an animal.

Maybe it had been the shock of that event, but he was unable to remember anything other than the fact that he was a slave and the times when he was tortured.

Just how had he become a slave? Was he one since the beginning? How had his severed tongue come back?

No matter how hard he tried to recall his memories, nothing came up, as if the pages of a book were torn out.

He wanted to be of help to the woman who helped him. He was going to need to leave the mansion one day. So before that day came, he wanted to repay at least a little bit of the kindness that had been given to him.

It was then that Tuule let out a sigh of frustration.

Thunk.

Someone opened the door to Tuule’s room without even knocking.

When the intruder stepped forward, his silver hair also danced along with him.

The man who was walking towards him under the moonlight was none other than Cassadin.

“Sir Cassadin.”

Surprised by the sudden visit, Tuule immediately got off of the bed. Cassadin had always been with Aren when he visited. This was the first time he had visited him alone like this.

Walking right up to Tuule, Cassadin nonchalantly inspected Tuule and opened his mouth.

“Tell me everything.”

“What?”

The first thing he says after barging into the room is to tell him everything?

When Tuule cocked his head in confusion, Cassadin took out a dagger and pointed it at his throat as he continued.

“What had happened at the duchy, whether it is true or not, and that you lost your memory. Tell me everything that you know.”

“…”

“If you do not, I will cut your throat here and now.”

The well-sharpened blade glinted brightly. Tuule was greatly confused by this sudden situation, but he somewhat understood Cassadin’s actions.

To whoever knew the situation, Tuule, who had one day suddenly appeared and took a room in the mansion, was the obvious intruder.

Which might have been the reason why he was able to respond calmly when there was a blade pointed at his throat.

“Which do you wish me to tell you? Though I don’t remember much, I will tell you everything that I can recall.”

“…”

“I want to be of help as much as I am able to. What I have received up to now has already been too generous for me. If I can assist Miss Aren even a…”

“Do not use my sister’s name.”

There was a clear bloodlust in Cassadin’s voice as he said so. Even permafrost would be warmer than the man’s voice.

Quietly swallowing, Tuule continued carefully.

“I’ve unintentionally overheard what the servants have said. That the two of you are not related by blood…”

“I’m the one asking the questions. So all you have to do is answer.”

Cassadin pushed the dagger even closer to Tuule’s throat. It seemed like not even a spear could pierce Tuule’s neck, but with just a single move from Cassadin, there was a drop of blood forming on his neck.

Judging that it would be impossible to hold a proper conversation with the man who was ready to kill him at any given moment, Tuule lowered his gaze and responded.

“…Very well.”

Damian’s duchy.

The mansion that one needed to strain to see the top of boasted majesty on par with the palace.

The well-maintained garden, the fountain decorated with statues of angels, and the many luxurious statues in the duchy were polished like new, likely because the servants worked to keep them clean every day.

Then the sound of a carriage and an old butler’s voice came from the entrance. When the familiar clicks of shoes came close, the servants all stopped what they had been doing and bowed deeply.

“Welcome, Master.”

Without giving as much as a glance at the servants bowing at him, Damian immediately headed to his office. His closest aide and butler, Kindel, followed.

There were three locks that protected Damian’s office within the duchy. The reason was that no matter how reliable the security of the duchy was, he couldn’t rely on foolish people to look after it.

Taking out a key from the pocket of his uniform, Damian unlocked the three locks. He had invested a fortune in a named mage for these locks, so not even the strongest of forces would be able to break them.

Drrrrgk.

When Kindel bowed and opened the office door, the view of the office opened up to him. On top of the desk in the office were countless stacks of paper that filled the entire surface.

Clack.

Once the doors were completely closed, Damian, who had been looking at a document on his desk, turned to Kindel. The look in his master’s eyes seemed a little different from usual for some reason.

His already sharp eyes looked even sharper. Damian’s menacing glare as he stared at Kindel seemed to describe the unfortunate things that had happened at the banquet.

“You’ve investigated Lady Serkia in the past, correct?”

“Yes, Master.”

“That woman. She’s completely mad.”

Damian handed the document he had been looking at just now to Kindel. On the document were Aren’s portrait and several lines of information.

“I thought she was a foolish woman after she bought a slave for 5 billion gold and then adopted him as her brother. But it seems she was not.”

Damian drummed his finger on the desk as he continued.

“She recognized the value of that slave. That woman.”

“….”

“Not to mention, that slave. I’ve definitely seen it before, but I wasn’t positive when I was in prison. I compared him to every imperial knight in the palace as soon as I was released, but there wasn’t a single knight with purple eyes.”

“Is that really true, Master?”

“It is indeed.”

Pausing his rhythmic tapping on the desk, Damian smiled sinisterly and tilted his head.

“A slave who can infiltrate the heavily guarded palace security at will. And the attitude of a pure-blooded noble. Do you understand what this means?”

To his master’s question, Kindel adjusted his monocle with his index finger and responded.

“….He is likely to be the culprit in the Crown Prince’s poisoning incident.”

“And?”

“If he acts like a noble-born, then he may not have been born a slave.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Damian’s green eyes glittered dangerously.

“That woman called Aren, who has taken in that slave, humiliated me at the banquet hall.”

“…”

“I wish to reveal that the slave she had adopted was the culprit who attempted to poison the Crown Prince this very moment, but it will be me that will be suspected if I act rashly without any solid evidence.”

“What do you wish for me to do, Master?”

As if waiting to hear that, Damian opened his mouth.

“Do whatever you must to find the weakness of those two people. And spread the rumor far and wide that Cassadin was once a gladiator slave.”

“…”

“And get me more information about that damned Serkia family. Especially about how long they’ve had close relations with the imperial family.”

“As you wish, Master.”

Just as Kindel bowed and turned to leave the room, Damian gave him one last order.

“And check what has happened to the ‘slave’ I gave to that woman.”