The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 12: The Date

The next day when Milo woke up, his head was splitting with pain, and he could barely remember what happened the night before.

His last memory was in the carriage, listening to Miss Charlotte and Kyle’s conversation, growing angrier the more he heard, so furious he was scratching everywhere in the cabin, accidentally rolling out a wine bottle. He drank his fill to vent his anger, then the world spun and he remembered nothing more. How he got home, how he washed up and got into bed, he had no impression at all.

Milo was so hungover he could not even get out of bed, but he still called for Kyle and dutifully sent flowers and an invitation to Miss Charlotte, specifically instructing that Kyle deliver them personally.

Kyle bowed in agreement and left at once, yet returned before a meal’s time had passed. Milo had been sleeping in for a second round, and when Kyle woke him for a meal, he stared at him in dumbfounded shock.

Was the male and female lead’s romance progressing this fast? Adding in the round trip, some conversation, holding little hands, whispering sweet nothings, even at full gallop it should not be this quick. Was this good progress on the affection meter? Or slow progress? Had any progress been made at all, or none?

“Did you actually go deliver it yourself?” Milo eyed Kyle suspiciously.

“Yes, Young Master. I followed your instructions to the letter. The flowers and invitation were handed to Miss Charlotte in person.” Kyle bowed his head, his tone steady, his manner beyond reproach.

Milo stared with wide eyes, not quite believing it, about to question him further, when he received another shocking piece of news: Miss Charlotte had accepted the invitation.

“You… what did you say?” Milo’s voice was trembling with shock.

“Miss Charlotte expressed that it would be her honor, and she will arrive punctually.” Kyle’s expression was flat, repeating word for word, looking nothing like someone who had just finished a romance with the female lead. Milo had no attention to spare for that, lost in his own shock.

Why? Just why? Was she not supposed to politely refuse multiple times, letting his anger build up over several days until he, the vicious male supporting character, stormed over to confront her in a huff?

Now that she accepted the first invitation, how was he supposed to go confront her? He had been itching to point at Charlotte’s nose and curse her out! Besides, a date? He had not prepared for this scene!

“Where are we going? When?”

“According to your instructions, it is entirely up to Miss Charlotte’s discretion. Miss Charlotte proposed visiting Rodwin Castle for an art exhibition. As for the time…” Kyle picked up his pocket watch and glanced at it, raising his eyes. “In two hours.”

Two hours later, Rodwin Castle.

Rodwin Castle sat on the outskirts of the city, not far from the city center, yet occupying a whole mountain to itself, quiet and natural. Built of heavy stone masonry, rows of columns supported triangular pediments, long windows arranged in orderly fashion, the lines strict and neat. Ivy climbed the stone walls, emerald green against pale gray, adding a touch of romantic atmosphere to the classicism.

In the carriage, Milo covered his mouth. He was still hungover, the jostling making him want to vomit the whole way, leaning against Kyle’s shoulder, dry heaving now and then. Kyle sat beside him, carefully rubbing his head to ease his discomfort.

The carriage stopped before the castle. The moment Milo stepped down, the sunlight hit him and he felt dizzy and nauseous. Only when Kyle opened an umbrella for him did he feel slightly better.

His face was deathly pale, his brow tightly furrowed, one hand supporting his forehead, the other holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, as if even the moving air made him unwell. He walked along muttering under his breath. “What are you holding an umbrella for, I’m not a woman… what young master goes out with an umbrella… this is utterly humiliating.”

Kyle simply pretended not to hear.

The attendant led the two of them to the exhibition hall. Charlotte was already waiting at the entrance, wearing a long light blue satin gown, pure and refined, like the clear surface of a summer lake. Her styling was less elaborate than yesterday, yet she seemed even more beautiful. Seeing the two arrive, she gave a slight bow. “Good day, Young Master Milo.”

Without waiting for Milo’s response, Charlotte gave another bow toward Kyle. “Good day, Butler Kyle.”

The corner of Milo’s mouth twitched. He glared at Kyle, who returned the bow respectfully and said nothing.

Given Kyle’s status, he naturally should not speak on behalf of Young Master Milo. But Young Master Milo did not feel like responding with pleasantries either. He let out a cold snort, strode into the exhibition hall, and directly slighted Charlotte.

This Charlotte had succeeded in angering him at first sight. Her giving the master and servant each a full bow, as if granting them equal respect, was something Young Master Milo absolutely would not permit. It was also his most sensitive bottom line.

“I’ll settle accounts with you later.” He directly chalked this one up to Kyle’s tab, whispering fiercely at Kyle. Kyle merely lowered his eyes and bowed his head, as if he had not heard.

Inside the spacious exhibition hall, light poured through arched windows casting mottled shadows. The walls were hung with paintings in gold frames, gaining more solemnity against the dark toned carpet and candle lamps. Here and there a few sofas were arranged, creating a private and elegant atmosphere.

A politely mannered attendant guided them through. Milo listened to a few sentences, the content inside and out praising how precious the collection was, how hard won, thinking this exhibition was nothing more than a setup for the owner to show off.

Milo most hated listening to people toot their own horn, especially about such boring things. Added to his lingering hangover, his mind was foggy and muddled, so he let his thoughts wander.

Charlotte was quite engaged, frequently making comments on the paintings. Milo naturally could not pick up the conversation. Feeling unwell and sulking at Charlotte, he did not even want to force a response. The atmosphere dropped to freezing, and even the attendant was secretly wiping sweat.

Caught in this stalemate, Kyle, who had intended to avoid suspicion, had no choice but to step in, occasionally making conversation to moderately ease the atmosphere. Yet this only made Milo more frustrated, thinking “the two of you go ahead and romance each other and build up your affection, why drag me into this,” and grew even more bored, looking around randomly.

In his drifting attention, he noticed a pastoral oil painting. Drawing closer to look, he saw a peaceful and serene cliffside landscape, yet rich in content. There were oxen plowing fields, shepherds tending sheep, sailboats in the bay, blue sea and sky, calm winds and still waters, a scene of tranquil leisure.

“The Fall of Icarus,” Miss Charlotte had somehow come to stand at Milo’s side, looking at the oil painting, sighing softly. “He pursued excellence and glory, drew close to the sun, and finally perished in the sun’s scorching heat.”

Milo stared at Charlotte in surprise. Was this lady speaking to him? But were they looking at the same painting? What he saw before him was pastoral mountains and sea, not some epic solar conflagration.

“Icarus was imprisoned in a high tower. He made wings of wax and feathers, flying toward freedom, but flew too high. The sun melted his wax wings and he fell into the sea.” Seeing Milo’s awkwardness, Kyle spoke up at the right moment. “He hoped to win admiration, yet his death concerned no one.”

Milo blinked at Kyle. He knew Kyle was quietly feeding him information, but were they talking about the same thing he was seeing?

Charlotte carefully examined the painting, her eyes full of reverence and sympathy, sighing. “Some people may not be in the most dazzling positions, yet their greatness, even when unseen, deserves to be remembered and respected.” As she spoke, she glanced meaningfully at Kyle.

Kyle looked straight at the oil painting without turning his head, as if unaware. He admired it for a moment, then said calmly. “It is not that he was unseen. It is simply that most people only look up at soaring flight, they do not look at shadows. They do not care, nor do they wish to see.”

Charlotte was startled by these words, falling into thought, as if pondering Kyle’s meaning.

Milo looked at the painting for quite a while, and finally spotted, in a corner of the canvas on the sea surface, someone plunged headfirst into the water with two bare calves sticking out. He burst out laughing.

So this painting, though called The Fall of Icarus, actually had its protagonist in only a tiny corner of the composition, buried in the scenery of peaceful everyday life. It seemed the fall of a hero was merely ordinary, no one caring, everyone going about their own lives.

“Look at the way his two legs are flailing about, doesn’t it look like he’s swimming.” Milo laughed with interest, his tone teasing, yet his gaze faintly revealing a longing. “Truly so free and easy it makes one envious.”

“Young Master Milo, he lost the respect and glory he deserved. This is a matter for regret.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow slightly, disagreeing. “Besides, I only see him struggling in the water. Where is this freedom and ease you speak of?”

“Being far from respect and glory, is that not freedom and ease itself?” Seeing Charlotte so earnest, Milo felt competitive and began talking nonsense just to argue. “One who pursued freedom ends up free and easy. Should that not be a wonderful thing? Why regret it?”

Charlotte frowned, feeling that the Duke’s young master lived high above and knew nothing of worldly suffering, about to offer some guidance, when she heard Milo continue.

“You see him struggling, I see him quite at ease. Why need others’ pity? Though it is no fault of yours for not understanding,” saying this, he cast a narrow glance at Charlotte’s skirt hem, teasing. “Dressed the way you are, you certainly would not understand that kind of lighthearted freedom.”

Charlotte was startled, looking down at her long gown and inch high heels. They were indeed heavy, but what did that have to do with this painting? About to retort, she suddenly realized a gentleman commenting on a lady’s clothing was rather improper, and it was not worth getting entangled with him. She had no choice but to suppress the argument in her heart.

Seeing her look as if she had a fishbone stuck in her throat, Milo grew even more pleased with himself. As a vicious male supporting character, he needed neither reputation nor ability, nor any stuffy formalities or concerns. He crowed with mockery. “They say the barefoot are not afraid of the shod. Haven’t you heard? Having nothing at all is when you are lightest on your feet.”

After this round of clapback, seeing Charlotte’s aggrieved face, his heart felt quite satisfied, as if avenging last night’s cold treatment. Swelling with pride, he turned his gaze back to the painting before him, as if gazing into the far distance, murmuring in sigh. “Truly makes one nostalgic…”

Kyle stood behind Milo, his gaze flickering, then looked toward the ocean in the painting, lost in thought.