Chapter 431 Cushion
From that moment on, the names of Riley and his wife, Duchess Monique, were etched deeply into the consciousness of the region.
They became figures of both notoriety and mystery—whispered about in taverns, discussed behind closed doors, and feared by nobles and commoners alike.
No one in their right mind dared to provoke them, for doing so was akin to courting disaster.
Riley was more than satisfied with this outcome.
In fact, it was precisely what he had intended from the very beginning.
Authority, once firmly established and reinforced by fear, required little maintenance.
With threats eliminated and rivals subdued, he was finally able to live in peace alongside his family.
Days blended into months, and months quietly slipped into years.
Life settled into a steady rhythm, calm and uneventful.
Before Riley truly realized it, five years had passed in the blink of an eye.
And with the passage of time came the moment he had been patiently waiting for all these years—the inevitable meeting he knew would one day arrive.
On that day, Riley left the safety and luxury of his vast estate.
He did not bring an entourage, nor did he announce his presence.
Instead, he traveled alone, crossing from the well-kept streets of the upper districts into the city’s darker, more unsavory quarters.
The change was immediate and suffocating.
The air grew heavy with rot and sweat, mixed with the sharp sting of smoke from cheap pipes and burning refuse.
Narrow alleyways twisted like veins through decaying buildings, their walls stained with grime and neglect.
The people here moved differently—slouched, wary, their eyes darting about with practiced caution.
Then Riley saw them.
Lined up along the street were rows upon rows of crude wooden cages, roughly constructed and carelessly maintained.
At first glance, one might have mistaken them for pens meant to hold livestock. But a closer look revealed a far crueler truth.
Inside the cages were people.
Men and women sat in silence, their bodies thin and bruised, their expressions empty and distant.
Whatever fire once burned within them had long since been extinguished.
Their eyes were dull, lifeless—those of individuals who had already accepted their fate.
And among them were children.
Small hands clutched rusted bars, faces streaked with dirt and tears.
Some cried openly, their voices hoarse from exhaustion, while others stared out in mute terror, too frightened even to weep.
The sound of their sobs blended with the murmur of the street, creating a haunting chorus that lingered in the air.
Riley stood there, unmoving, taking in the scene before him.
This was the reality hidden beneath the city’s prosperity—the filth that thrived in the shadows while the powerful looked away.
And yet, this was precisely the place he had come to.
His gaze hardened.
After all these years, the moment he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
The moment Riley stepped into the street, an unnatural silence spread outward like ripples on still water.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
Laughter vanished. Even the cries from the cages seemed to soften, as though the air itself had grown cautious.
Those nearby lowered their heads instinctively, while others stiffened in place, afraid that even breathing too loudly might draw his attention.
Riley paid them no mind.
With calm, measured steps, he moved along the row of cages, his sharp gaze sweeping over their contents as though he were inspecting livestock at a market. No one dared interrupt him.
The crowd parted wherever he walked, leaving a clear path as everyone waited—anxious, tense, and fearful—for him to finish.
Time stretched unbearably.
Soon, faint whispers crept through the onlookers, cautious and trembling.
"I never thought I’d see Master Riley in a place like this..."
"Lower your voice! Are you insane? Do you want to die?"
"Everyone knows Master Riley despises evil more than anything else. If he’s here, someone’s head is going to roll."
"Then... then is he here to kill the slave master?"
Nervous eyes darted back and forth between Riley and the owner of the cages—the bloated man standing nearby.
The fat slave master’s face had gone deathly pale.
His lips trembled, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking into his collar.
Every second Riley spent walking past the cages felt like a blade hovering above his neck.
Ten agonizing minutes passed.
Then Riley stopped.
He stood before a small, rusted cage tucked slightly away from the others.
Inside, a little girl sat pressed against the corner, her thin body trembling violently.
Her clothes were little more than rags, hanging loosely from her frail frame.
Dirt smudged her cheeks, and her wide eyes shimmered with fear as she stared at him, as if expecting the worst at any moment.
She clutched the bars with shaking fingers, too terrified to cry out, yet unable to look away.
Riley studied her quietly.
Then, slowly, the corner of his lips lifted into a faint, unreadable smile.
"I want her," he said, his voice calm and even. "How much?"
The crowd collectively held its breath.
The fat slave master jolted as if struck by lightning.
He hurried forward in a clumsy rush, nearly tripping over his own feet before stopping in front of Riley.
His entire body quivered as he bowed deeply, his fear unmistakable.
Of course, he knew exactly who stood before him—and just how merciless this man could be.
"I-If Master Riley desires her, then she is yours—free of charge!" he blurted out. "Please, accept her as a gift!"
He bowed again, lower this time.
"My name is Julian Graves, Master Riley," he continued hastily. "I have long heard of your unmatched strength and great reputation throughout the region. To serve you today is the highest honor of my life."
Sweat poured from his face as he spoke, soaking through his clothes.
His swollen belly bulged obscenely from his tight shirt, rising and falling as he panted nervously.
He didn’t dare lift his head, terrified that even meeting Riley’s gaze might spell his end.
Meanwhile, Riley’s eyes never left the trembling girl in the cage.
A few measured breaths passed before Riley finally turned to face the fat slave master.
The moment his eyes settled on Julian, the man’s heart nearly stopped.
It felt as though a monstrous presence had locked onto him—one that saw straight through flesh and bone, already marking him as a dead man walking.
Julian’s mouth went dry.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as cold sweat soaked through his clothes.
Instinct screamed at him to flee, yet his legs refused to move.
He swallowed hard and took an unsteady step back, fully convinced that Riley would draw a blade in the next heartbeat and bury it deep into his neck.
But the expected death never arrived.
Instead, Riley smiled.
It was a slow, deliberate smile—utterly devoid of warmth or humor.
There was no mirth in his eyes, only a chilling calm that frightened Julian far more than open rage ever could.
"Do I look like a beggar to you, slave master?" Riley asked, his voice even and controlled, as though he were discussing the weather rather than a human life.
Julian’s face blanched completely.
"N-Not at all, Master Riley! Of course not!" he exclaimed, shaking his head so violently that his jowls quivered.
Panic clawed at his chest as he hurried to correct himself, desperate to avoid offending the man before him.
"That was never my intent. I swear it!"
He paused, drawing in a shaky breath before forcing the words out.
"A-A fair price, then. One hundred gold coins for the girl, Master Riley."
As he spoke, Julian cast a quick glance toward the child’s cage.
He scrutinized her carefully this time, searching for something—anything—that might explain Riley’s interest.
Yet the more he looked, the more confused he became.
The girl was small and frail, her limbs thin like twigs.
Her clothes hung loosely from her body, and her face was pale beneath layers of dirt.
She looked sickly, exhausted, and utterly unremarkable.
She wasn’t beautiful, nor did she possess any obvious value. If anything, she looked like she might not survive much longer.
A flicker of disdain crossed Julian’s mind. Then he dismissed it just as quickly.
Over the years, Julian had seen humanity at its very worst.
He had watched people abandon all dignity and morality for fleeting pleasure or profit.
He had seen nobles indulge in depraved fantasies and commoners sink even lower when given the chance.
Compared to the twisted desires he had witnessed, this was nothing new.
If Master Riley had such tastes, then so be it. Julian had no intention of questioning them.
All that mattered was that he walked away from this encounter alive.
Riley casually tossed a heavy bag of coins onto the filthy ground.
The leather split slightly on impact, and the dull clatter of gold echoed through the street, drawing every eye present.
Yet Riley didn’t bother to look back at the slave master.
In his mind, the transaction was already finished. The man no longer mattered.