The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 13: Victor

“Young Master Milo truly lives up to his reputation of being carefree and unrestrained.” A deep voice laced with amusement rang out. Following the sound, a middle-aged gentleman came walking slowly toward them.

The gentleman appeared to be in his thirties or forties, full of mature charm. His hair was swept back, neat yet dashing. He wore a tailored dark blue suit that outlined his tall, straight figure. The corner of his mouth curved upward, elegant and graceful, yet his gaze was sharp, carrying an unmistakable air of aggression.

“Uncle Victor.” Charlotte immediately smiled and stepped forward to greet him.

Uncle? Milo’s pupils contracted sharply, and he was struck with a sudden jolt.

He had felt that the name Rothwell Castle sounded familiar. Now he realized it was the Rothwell family, Charlotte’s maternal clan. And this charming older man right before him was none other than the current head of the Rothwell family, a titan spanning both the art industry and the capital markets: Victor Rothwell.

The heroine Charlotte’s family was indeed an ancient noble house, but the real backbone supporting her influence was this wealthy uncle of hers in the arts and culture world. He could be said to serve as the protagonist team’s treasury and the ace card for political and propaganda warfare.

His business dealings covered art trading, cultural investment, publishing, and exhibitions. His connections and resources in the art world were essentially a public opinion machine. A truly unfathomable, top-tier supporting character.

Milo quietly glanced at Kyle, thinking to himself: Victor could be considered half a guardian to Charlotte. Did this count as Kyle meeting the parents? The main couple’s relationship was progressing way too fast.

In the original story, Victor had greatly admired the male lead Kyle. After just one meeting, he had staked his entire family fortune to help him wholeheartedly, becoming a core member of the protagonist team and the biggest wingman for the main couple’s romance. Now that they had met and unlocked this plot point, it was yet another instance of the story racing ahead of schedule. A pleasant surprise, all things considered.

“‘He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.'” Victor reached out to lightly support Charlotte, but his gaze locked onto Milo. He stepped closer, leaning in slightly, his voice low and magnetic, every word carrying a smile: “But Young Master Milo’s insights are far more vivid and endearing than those of any stuffy old scholar.”

Milo raised an eyebrow. As the villainous son of a grand duke, he was long accustomed to receiving flattery, especially the kind laced with teasing. He immediately let out a cold laugh.

“I merely spoke off the cuff. For you to take it so seriously flatters me far too much.” He lifted his chin slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as he struck his most arrogant pose. He turned his head toward Kyle and asked with feigned ignorance, the corners of his mouth filled with undisguised mockery: “Who is this interesting friend of yours? Why not introduce us?”

Victor burst into hearty laughter and introduced himself on the spot without bothering with formalities, simply calling himself a collector. He turned to the side, his long fingers resting on the edge of a picture frame, subtly projecting an assertion of control and power, and sighed at the painting:

“This painting was acquired by me at an auction in the southern territories last month. It nearly fell into foreign hands. Fortunately, it is here today, appreciated by Young Master Milo. It has finally found a kindred spirit, and all the trouble was not in vain.” Victor’s gaze shifted to Milo, his eyes burning bright, carrying insight, amusement, and a hint of flirtation.

The young master had the lingering look of someone after a night of drinking. His face was pale as paper, yet his lips were crimson red. There was weariness between his brows, but his eyes shone with a brilliant light, like fine amber, dazzling and vivid, full of a young man’s stubbornness and vitality.

He wore a clean and simple beige suit, adorned only with a single rose boutonniere as a nod to the occasion. The petals trembled gently with his breath, complementing his red lips, tempting one to pluck them.

He was like a fire lit by accident, lazy and captivating, fragile enough to make one unable to resist drawing near, to admire, to test, even to possess.

Kyle stepped forward, silently blocking Victor’s line of sight, and said respectfully: “Lord Rothwell’s dedication to protecting the arts is truly admirable.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, sizing Kyle up with his eyes, his smile carrying deeper meaning: “I am but a collector. When it comes to protecting the arts, how could I possibly compare to Young Master Milo? The tale of the Zabert piano is praised throughout the empire, from the royal palace and nobility down to the common folk and vagrants. That is what truly commands respect. That whole affair left me deeply impressed.”

Victor spoke with the lingering aftertaste of fine wine. Every gesture exuded a captivating romantic flair. No matter when or where, he ought to have been the center of attention, except when Milo was around.

Milo’s hangover discomfort was growing stronger. At first he had wanted to trade a few barbed remarks, but Victor’s deep voice resonated and echoed like a great bell, making Milo’s head buzz, and the man just kept rambling on. Frowning in discomfort, Milo simply found a sofa and sat down, taking his act of looking down on everyone to the extreme.

Victor’s eyes flickered. He instructed a servant: “Take this painting down.” Then he laughed aloud: “A famous painting is beautiful, to be sure, but the collection is so vast that we could not possibly see it all in one sitting.”

Victor walked over to Milo and made a gesture of invitation, his tone warm yet carrying an air of authority that brooked no refusal: “I have gathered many rare and exquisite teas from around the world. Young Master, why not move to the side parlor and sample a cup or two?”

These words struck right at Milo’s heart. The group followed Victor into the side parlor, where they were greeted by the scent of tea, warm and lingering, filling the air of the entire room with a faint, delicate fragrance.

Unlike the grand and spacious main hall, the side parlor was quiet and serene. Several glass wall sconces cast a soft, yellowish glow, reflecting off the dark walls and carpet, creating dancing patterns of light and shadow. Near the window sat a set of light-colored velvet sofas embroidered with delicate rose leaves and young shoots, with a few small floral cushions arranged among them.

On the wooden side table next to the sofa sat a small enameled vase with a freshly picked orange-yellow tulip. The mingling scents of flowers and tea drifted gently to every corner, making the space feel cozy and warm.

Display stands of varying heights were arranged artfully throughout, creating visual layers. Upon them sat all manner of exquisite collections: Eastern bronze and porcelain, a Viking-era silver drinking horn, Venetian glass plates, a jade mask from an ancient Mayan city, and a gold-decorated belt from an Indian royal court.

On the wall, a pair of iron gauntlets from a knight of the previous century stood facing each other like silent guards. In a tall cabinet in the corner, several ancient Roman coins and miniature statues lay peacefully on dark velvet, gleaming with the luster of history.

Milo paid no mind to all the dazzling sights. He only noticed the small round table in front of the sofa, where a copper kettle released wisps of steam, white porcelain tea cups were neatly arranged, and a three-tiered serving stand was piled with savory bites and fruit tarts, along with a few pieces of chocolate and small biscuits.

Milo was the first to sink into the sofa, letting out a satisfied, inward sigh. He took the teacup Kyle handed him and sniffed it lightly. The bittersweet aroma of the tea eased his throbbing head considerably. His gaze drifted and landed on a piano off to one side, and he raised an eyebrow: “This piece is rather interesting.”

Unlike the roomful of exquisite and magnificent artworks, this piano stood out as oddly dull. The walnut body had faded to white, its fine carvings worn smooth by time, yet the keys were well maintained, bright and clean. The lid was half open, as if waiting for someone to sit down and play a melody from history.

Victor seated himself directly across from Milo, following his gaze, and explained: “It comes from the Baido Empire of a century ago, that once glorious and flourishing nation. At the time, the royal family was passionate about musical craftsmanship, and the court music bureau was renowned for its strict standards and magnificent artistry. This piano was the personal instrument of the last queen, Mary. On the final night before the capital fell, she personally set the palace ablaze and played to her heart’s content amidst the flames, laughing at the blood and gunfire of her enemies.”

The corner of his lips curved upward, his eyelids half lowered, his gaze flicking toward Milo, his eyes gleaming: “Queen Mary is a symbol of pride and fragility. To me, it is not merely a collectible, but an epitaph for a gilded age.”

Milo laughed, his golden eyes sparkling with light, and lazily tossed out a question: “If the palace burned down, how could the piano have survived?”

He lowered his head slightly, his eyes downcast as he savored the tea’s aroma, his tone light and slow, carrying a malicious upward lilt: “An ordinary object, wrapped in a grand story, can become worth a fortune, wouldn’t you say?”

Victor, far from being angered, burst into hearty laughter, his rich voice echoing through the room full of rare and curious treasures.

“The young master speaks the absolute truth!” He spread his hands generously, his eyes gleaming with interest: “An ordinary object, wrapped in a grand story, can become a legend. What people chase after is not the essence of the object itself, but the emotion that touches the soul: tragedy, romance, glory, even destruction.”

His voice dropped lower, carrying magnetism and a smile. His gaze burned into Milo, his posture leaning forward like a panther crouching low, ready to pounce in the next second: “A person like you, young master, is himself the most moving story of all. I am quite curious: what kind of emotion could possibly touch your soul?”

Before the words had fully faded, Kyle had already quietly stepped forward, pushing over a plate of delicate tea cakes, his tone unhurried, carrying his usual thoroughness: “If this topic continues, I fear the tea will grow cold. Why do we not all rest a while first, and then continue our refined gathering?”

Milo’s attention was quickly captured by the tea cakes. He had little appetite and could not stand salty or sweet things. The refreshing tea cakes suited him perfectly, and he immediately reached out to take one.

Victor’s smile did not waver, though a strange glint flashed in his eyes. His fingers tapped the armrest twice, his tone carrying interest: “A refined gathering cannot be without music. Miss Charlotte’s piano skills are renowned far and wide, and Butler Kyle’s performance at yesterday’s banquet stunned the entire capital. If the two of you could play a duet, with two voices resonating together, that would be a rare treat indeed.”

Victor’s tone seemed half in jest, but his gaze turned to Charlotte with a questioning look. Charlotte sat in a side seat. With one lift of her eyes, she could steal a glance at Kyle standing behind Milo, her eyes showing admiration and longing. She said: “It truly would be rare.” After speaking, she seemed to suddenly realize her bashfulness, her small face flushing red, adding life to that usually indifferent face.

With the noble lady having spoken personally, Kyle found it difficult to decline. He lowered his gaze to look at Milo, only to discover that Milo was gazing at Victor with great enthusiasm, his eyes shining bright and clear.

Oh my! When the top-tier supporting character makes a move, it’s on a whole other level! In just a few words, he’s got the male lead roasting over a fire! Truly worthy of being the number one wingman!

Milo broke into a wide grin, tilting his head up to meet Kyle’s dark gaze, his eyes full of teasing and mischief, pouring fuel on the fire: “Since it is such a rare opportunity, why not seize the moment and play a duet?”