The Weight of Secrets
Leon’s smile deepened—quiet, unreadable, carrying the promise of sothing the man wouldn’t enjoy.
"I do," Leon murmured, voice silky and edged with an unsettling calm, "if you agree to one thing."
The finance minister froze.
For a mont he simply stared, his lips trembling, breath shivering out of him in short, panicked puffs. His knees dug into the stone floor, and his fingers clawed at his own robes as if fabric could shield him from what he felt radiating from the young king.
Leon let the silence stretch.
He wanted the man to feel it—not fear of death, but fear of expectation. Fear of what Leon might demand. Fear of what he might reveal.
Finally, the minister swallowed hard.
"W-What... what is it, Your Majesty?"
His voice cracked like soone had stepped on it.
Leon didn’t rush.
He leaned one shoulder against the iron bars, letting the dim torchlight fall across his features. His expression softened into sothing dangerously pleasant.
"Tell ," he said slowly, "where your old king, Garay, kept his most precious things. His personal treasures. The ones not listed in official ledgers."
The minister blinked.
His mouth opened, closed, opened again.
Leon continued, voice low, steady.
"And more than that... you will tell who in this kingdom holds bad keys to the treasury. Every house with ’missing paynts,’ every noble who dipped their hands into what wasn’t theirs."
His gaze sharpened.
"I want everything. The last five decades. Every record. Every secret. Every shadow that touches the crown’s gold."
The man’s breath hitched. "F-Five... decades?"
"Yes," Leon said with a small smile. "If you’re the Finance Minister, you should be capable of sothing so simple. Don’t tell the role was ceremonial."
The minister stared, stunned. His heart hamred so loudly that Leon could almost hear it despite the bars between them.
His voice wavered.
"Y-Your Majesty... I... I have only records for two decades. Maybe twenty-two years if I gather scattered papers. Anything older than that is in fragnts or... burned by previous administrations. I would need at least—at least two weeks just to prepare the basics..."
Leon let out a quiet hum, watching him with an unreadable gaze.
Inside, his thoughts were colder.
Two weeks?
I could force the entire treasury to kneel in one night if I wanted. Breaking into their vaults isn’t the issue. Crushing their defense formations isn’t the issue. I just don’t want to waste ti doing grunt work.
If this rat can fetch the data for ... then why not let him?
Let him sweat. Let him run. Let him believe I could kill him at any mont. A terrified servant is more loyal than a proud one.
The minister watched Leon’s expression closely, sothing shifting in his eyes. A desperate hope battled with dread.
"I... I can do it," he whispered. "If—if you allow ti. And a small staff. I swear I’ll collect everything."
Leon tilted his head. "Everything?"
"E-Everything, sire."
Leon straightened, hands slipping into his pockets, movents lazy and elegant.
He looked down at the minister like he was studying a curious insect.
"You look like soone who lies often," Leon said softly.
"But unlike the others, at least you’re smart enough to know what happens to n who lie to ."
The minister flinched so hard he almost toppled sideways.
His thoughts raced in panic, stumbling over each other.
He knows.
He sees everything.
If I lie—if I hide even a single page—he’ll gut . No, worse... he’ll smile at while doing it.
Gods... why did I ever steal those coins? Why did I even stay in this kingdom?
If I survive this, I swear I’ll never touch gold again.
Leon watched those emotions writhe across the man’s face like worms in the dirt.
Amusing. Predictable. Useful.
"You have twenty years of records," Leon repeated, pretending to think. "That’s a problem."
The minister panicked again, hands rising in the air.
"I—I will find the rest! Truly! I can search the old vault, contact retired clerks, summon forr accountants—anything! Please, Your Majesty, I can gather more data, but not instantly!"
Leon exhaled softly.
He stepped closer again, lowering his voice to sothing intimate enough to make the man’s skin prickle.
"If you’re willing to give everything..."
He paused, letting his smile widen just a fraction.
"...then I’m willing to give you sothing too."
The minister stared, terrified. "W-What... what will you give ?"
Leon’s eyes glimred with amusent.
"I’ll let you live."
The minister’s throat bobbed so painfully he almost choked.
"I-I... live...?"
"That’s generally what happens when you don’t get executed," Leon replied, tone light, almost playful.
The minister let out a shaky breath of relief—way too loud, way too obvious.
His shoulders sagged. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His entire body trembled with pathetic, pitiful gratitude.
Leon didn’t hide the slight curl of disgust tugging at his lip.
"Don’t relax yet," Leon said suddenly.
The man froze again.
Leon bent down slightly, eting him eye to eye through the bars.
His voice dropped to a soft, cold whisper.
"Because if you fail —if you hide anything—if you delay on purpose..."
His fingertip tapped the bar once.
A soft tallic tic echoed down the hall.
"I’ll make you regret being born."
The minister nearly collapsed.
"Y-Yes... Your Majesty... I... I understand..."
Leon didn’t blink. "Do you?"
"Y-Yes! Yes, I understand completely!"
Leon watched him for a long mont—almost too long. The man’s breath ca in short, panicked bursts. His mind was spiraling.
Inside, the minister’s thoughts slamd against each other like stones in a muddy river.
I must survive.
I must give him everything.
No mistakes. No lies. No delays.
He’s not like the old king... he’s worse. He sees too much. Reads too much.
Gods... two decades... why do I only have two decades?
Please... let this monster spare if I obey.
Leon finally straightened, stretching his neck as if bored.
"How long will it take?" he asked casually.
The minister swallowed.
"T-Two weeks... minimum..."
Leon lifted a brow.
"Minimum," he repeated quietly.
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