"Tell me everything you know," Night said coldly, his voice leaving no room for compromise.
"Right here, in front of everyone, speak loudly and tell us everything."
He made no attempt to hide the interrogation from the crowd.
There was nothing more convincing than getting a noble to confess in public.
Nothing could lend more credibility than publicly exposing a noble's secrets in front of the masses.
It would be like a notarized truth witnessed by the people, undeniable once revealed—unless every faction in Rome conspired to cover it up.
But with the uproar surrounding Tiberius's reforms and election, and with all of Rome watching, it wouldn't be so easy to hide or dismiss the matter.
This wasn't some corrupt police department in 1928 Los Angeles.
In the future, a true case would occur in the United States where a child was kidnapped, and when the single mother reported her missing son, the police delayed the search, claiming not enough time had passed.
When they finally found a boy, it wasn't her son.
Despite the mother insisting the boy wasn't hers and that his height, appearance, circumcision, and even dental records were all different—the Los Angeles police forced her to accept him.
When she resisted, they labeled her insane and institutionalized her.
The corruption was so blatant that it later inspired a movie about the case.
If the Roman Senate could wield power as violently and corruptly as the Los Angeles police of that era, then Night would admit defeat.
But he doubted it would come to
that.
Worst case, he'd change his strategy—shift from peaceful reform to violent revolution.
If necessary, he could "restart" by wiping out the Senate and starting over. One way or another, there was always a path forward.
At that moment, Hotrassi, terrified of being whipped again, began spilling everything he knew as fast as he could.
He revealed the Senate's rage during their discussions after Night's departure and how they openly plotted to deal with and eventually kill Tiberius.
The truth shook the gathered Roman citizens to their core.
"How dare they?!"
The crowd's shock quickly turned to fury as more of the truth came to light.
"Just because Tiberius threatens their interests, they think they can kill him without reason? Where's the justice in Rome?"
"What happened to Roman law? What happened to fairness?"
"Damn it! I knew these nobles were all rotten! Well, except for Lord Lista and the Gracchi brothers, of course. They're the exceptions."
Hotrassi continued, explaining how the Agrarian Law proposed by Night and Tiberius had enraged the Senate. Many nobles with large estates had become hostile toward them.
Even those senators who initially supported Tiberius's reforms began to turn against him.
There were three key figures at the
heart of this opposition.
The first was the head of the Pompey family, whose personal humiliation after his failed election bid—thanks to Night—had turned him into a bitter enemy.
The Pompey family had since become Gracchi's sworn foes.
The second was Tiberius's own cousin, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica Serapio, a man of significant influence and power.
The third was Marcus Octavius, a fellow Tribune of the Plebs.
Marcus Octavius was somewhat predictable, given his noble background and natural allegiance to the landowner class.
He had even gone so far as to publicly state in the Senate that he would veto any reforms Tiberius proposed, using his power as a Tribune to block Tiberius's laws.
This earned Octavius praise from the Senate, as a Tribune's veto carried significant weight.
However, if Tiberius managed to convene a Plebeian assembly, Marcus's veto power would become irrelevant.
In truth, Marcus wasn't a major threat.
While his opposition was clear, he lacked the real combat strength to back it up.
However, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, the second name on the list, was the most unexpected—and the most dangerous.
He was family, after all, and Tiberius never imagined his own cousin would betray him so thoroughly.
"No! How could Publius, my cousin, turn against me?!" Tiberius exclaimed in disbelief, walking down from the platform as Hotrassi revealed the name.
His voice trembled with shock and confusion.
"Hah… In the Senate, your dear cousin is the one shouting the loudest against you," Hotrassi replied with a bitter sneer.
"He's the one stirring up the other senators, claiming that you, Tiberius, are trying to become emperor of Rome, using the guise of reform to win the people's support.
He calls you nothing but a power-hungry, ambitious tyrant!"
Now that Hotrassi had spilled the truth, knowing there was no turning back, he said everything with reckless abandon, not even holding back his mocking tone.
"Why…?" Tiberius murmured, his voice hollow and full of disbelief.
Although he had anticipated that his reforms would make him many enemies, that opposition from the Senate and powerful interests would make his journey difficult, but he never imagined that his own family, someone as close as his cousin, would be leading the charge against him.
He could barely fathom the idea that the one who was most vocal in opposing him was his own blood.
Tiberius might have been able to accept family members opposing him because of conflicting interests, but for Publius to lead the opposition?
That was a betrayal that left him cold and heartbroken.
As he stood there, dazed, he recalled a conversation he had with Night shortly after becoming Tribune.
The latter had taken him aside and warned him to be cautious of those around him.
Could he have foreseen this betrayal even then?
If Night had told him outright that his cousin Publius would betray him, Tiberius would never have believed it.
But now, with Hotrassi's harsh words confirming the betrayal and remembering Night's earlier warning, it all became clear to him.
"Why would he do this…?" Tiberius asked, his voice tinged with sadness and confusion.
Hotrassi shrugged, feigning surprise. "I couldn't say.
Maybe you should ask yourself that question. Did you do something to offend your dear cousin?"
Tiberius, still reeling from the revelation, felt utterly lost.
If he knew what he had done wrong, he wouldn't have been so shocked.
Night finally spoke up, his calm voice breaking the tension.
"It's not that surprising, really.
Though the Gracchi and Scipio families have had close ties, there have been underlying tensions.
Your father had a disagreement with the elder Scipio during a political matter, and that created a rift between the two families."
Tiberius stared at Night, trying to grasp the full implications of what he was hearing.
"You may have had a good relationship with the younger Scipio, but that doesn't mean the entire Scipio family can be trusted," Night continued. "At the very least, your cousin Publius clearly cannot be trusted.
And if you were to die, he would stand to benefit greatly from your death."
Tiberius's face paled. "How… how would he benefit?"
Night's expression remained calm but serious.
"For one, you recently purchased a piece of land that Publius wanted, causing him to lose 500 sestertii in the deal.
If you were to die, that land would likely return to him."
What?