The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 17: The Villa

By the time they arrived at the villa, the sun was already setting. The villa was not large, hidden among the greenery, its mixed red brick walls covered in climbing ivy, winding into a scene of quiet serenity.

The house was surrounded by gardens on all sides, bursting with brilliant colors and clusters of flowers. Bright crimson, vivid yellow, deep purple, all woven together among the lush green, rich and lively, full of spring vitality.

In one corner of the garden stood a greenhouse, quietly bathed in the slanting sunlight filtering through the glass, casting gorgeous light. Inside was even more dreamlike and colorful, with exotic flowers and rare plants, little water features, and several exquisite gilded birdcages placed about, some hanging from trees, some set among the flower beds. Brightly colored birds hopped and chirped in their cages, their clear and pleasant songs blending with the murmuring water and the rustling of leaves, weaving together into a lively forest symphony.

Unlike the grand imperial garden aesthetic, the entire garden was gorgeously romantic, endlessly charming, brimming with abundant life.

But Milo stepped down from the carriage and immediately frowned, snorting coldly: “These birds are too noisy. Take them all away.”

An elderly steward who watched over the villa came forward to greet him, his tone respectful but not without authority: “Young master, every plant and tree in this garden was arranged by the lady herself. The Duke has ordered that not a single leaf or scene may be altered.”

Milo raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes narrowing into thin slits. He said no more and strode directly into the villa.

Upon entering, the first thing that met the eye was the portrait of the Duchess, hung in the most prominent position in the parlor, dignified and solemn, as if silently watching every visitor, proclaiming the mistress of the house.

The interior was spacious, though much smaller than the Duke’s mansion, but exquisitely decorated and well-maintained, with fine furnishings and ornaments in complete abundance.

Sofas and armchairs were draped with soft fox fur and antelope skin cushions. Several embroidered tapestries and tiger skin wall hangings adorned the walls. On the wooden floor lay a warm reindeer skin rug. Beside the sofa stood a glass vase as large as a wine jar, filled with peacock feathers, their blue-green eyes reflecting gorgeous halos in the window light.

Display shelves and side tables held glass bottles, gilded small statues, carved music boxes, and metal gear toys, all resting on rabbit fur and velvet cloth. Butterflies and feather specimens hung on the walls, brilliantly colored, seeming almost ready to take flight in the shifting light.

The entire environment was wonderfully intricate, luxurious and grand yet comfortable, noble yet exotic, like a carefully arranged private treasure house.

But the wicked young master would have none of it. Since the garden could not be touched, he pointed at the indoor furnishings and started giving orders.

“What are all these clinking and clanking things doing here? A complete mess, just looking at them annoys me. Take them all away.”

“What’s with that tapestry? The threads are all yellowed. Has it been sitting here for centuries? Are you trying to breed fleas to bite me?”

“This fur is too stiff, and why does it smell? It stinks. Replace it with down cushions.”

The servants exchanged glances. The old steward couldn’t help but frown, casting a look toward Kael. But Kael only gave an almost imperceptible nod, his dark eyes always resting on Milo, carrying a kind of indulgence and perception.

The old steward sighed and directed the servants to remove everything one by one. The servants trembled with fear, carefully wrapping each item and storing them away in boxes.

When they reached the bedroom, the young master flew into an even greater rage. The curtains were too ugly, the mattress too hard, the sofa and bedding too gaudy. He picked and chose, finding nothing to his liking. After a chaotic commotion, they finally managed to settle things down, and it was already near midnight.

After Kael had attended to the young master’s sleep, he came to the adjoining side room to sort his own luggage. A trusted servant knocked and entered, covered in dust from travel, carrying a small bag of letters on his back. From the bag he took out a stack of official documents and letters, respectfully presenting them on Kael’s desk, then whispered in his ear.

“Zabert?” Kael looked up, surprised. He hadn’t gone looking for the old man, yet the gentleman had come knocking on his own.

“Yes, just after the young master’s party departed this morning, he came to call. Learning that the young master was away, he changed his request to see the Duke himself.” The servant took an envelope from his chest and handed it to Kael. “Fortunately, the guard on duty was one of our men, so it was intercepted in time.”

Kael opened the envelope. Inside was a refined small card, with just a few formal lines about the operation and prospects of the music association. It was a donation solicitation card.

It turned out that although Zabert enjoyed great renown, he was after all advanced in years, and had not composed anything for many years. His talent had run dry, a sunset fading into twilight. After the recent hype about the treasure of the music world, guests came daily like clouds, parties unending.

Amid a flood of flattering honeyed words and applause, it was as if he had returned to the glorious days of his peak, swollen with pride and full of spirit. Looking at the rampant rumors of the Duke’s marriage to the Earl’s household, his piano had played no small part. He increasingly felt that letting it go so easily had been a bit of a loss.

The old gentleman had taken the notion of expecting the Duke’s household to fund the music association he operated, striking while the iron was hot to gain more benefits and establish deeper ties. He couldn’t be sure, but he might even become the benefactor and matchmaker of the new couple.

Kael looked at the donation card in his hand, laughing silently. But that laugh gradually spread, becoming a contemptuous arrogance.

In fact, although the transfer of Zabert’s piano had been in the name of protecting art, on a technical level, Kael had paid a considerable sum to express the Duke’s household’s sincerity, which was why the transfer could proceed smoothly and quickly.

The accounts were kept very clean. Not only had the Duke not noticed, but Zabert had received it cleanly and properly as well, perfectly safeguarding the legendary artist’s dignity. But clearly, the old gentleman was still not satisfied, demanding a second payoff, and even trying to bypass Kael to deal directly with the Duke. He really thought too much of himself.

“Allen,” Kael picked up the small card, his dark eyes flashing with an unclear fire, laughing hoarsely: “I really do like… people who are never satisfied.”

The servant Allen bowed, not daring to respond. He knew this master of his. A cold face didn’t mean anger, and a smile didn’t mean happiness. Especially when he laughed this madly, it usually meant someone was about to suffer terribly.

“Tell him the Duke’s household is interested in making a donation.” Kael held the small card between his fingertips, flicking it with a clean motion toward the incense copper basin nearby. The card slowly scorched a black spot, then with a whoosh, burst into flames. Kael curved his lips: “The specific amount, we can discuss in person.”

—

Late at night. The moment the door to Milo’s room next door opened, Kael woke.

Looking at the sliver of light passing under the door, Kael got up and pushed open his door. In the darkness, he saw a faint candlelight moving down the stairs. Kael silently followed.

Milo held a candlestick, walking alone in the darkness, wearing a thin linen nightshirt. In the flickering candlelight, his smooth curves were faintly visible. On his feet he wore a pair of mink fur slippers, fluffy and soft, making his calves look fair and delicate, swinging lightly, like an elf from a dream.

Milo wandered leisurely to the wine cellar, spent some time picking before the wine cabinets, then returned to the parlor, now with a bottle of red wine and a wine glass in hand.

Sitting on the sofa with a relieved sigh, rubbing his hands and about to open the bottle, he realized he had forgotten to bring a corkscrew. Just as he hesitated, a large hand reached out and took the bottle directly.

Kael held a small knife, using the silver blade to cut along the bottle mouth, shaving away the excess wax. His movements were clean and meticulous. When the cork was exposed, he pulled it out with just the right gesture, accompanied by a crisp pop. The rich wine aroma spread immediately, carrying the heavy scent of ripe fruit and wood, instantly filling the entire parlor.

Kael slowly poured the red wine into the wine glass before Milo. The wine liquid glowed with deep red luster in the candlelight, like flowing gemstones.

“Steward Kael isn’t asleep yet?” Milo blinked, unceremoniously picking up the glass and taking a sip, grinning slyly: “How about having a drink together?”

“I dare not drink with the young master. Better to pour for the young master and keep him company in conversation.” Kael answered with a bow. At this moment he wore a loose linen undershirt and casual trousers, his dark hair tucked behind his ears, a few strands falling before his forehead, less of his usual strictness, more of an elegant charm.

“You’re quite clever, always mindful of your place.” Milo was thoroughly pleased, relaxing back against the chair. But as he looked up, he saw the lady’s portrait in the darkness. It seemed the servants dared not move the painting that symbolized the mistress’s position, even at the young master’s order, so it remained in place.

Milo turned his gaze away in displeasure, noticing a display frame on the mantelpiece, quite conspicuous in the now empty parlor. Inside seemed to be a blue flame, but the candlelight was too dim to see clearly. He asked: “What’s that? Bring it here for me to see.”

Kael drew near and saw it was a specimen of a blue swallowtail butterfly. He reached to take it, but found the frame deeply embedded in the stone wall. Probably because of this, the servants had overlooked it and not stored it in the warehouse.

He immediately removed the outer frame, cupped the swallowtail in his hands, and brought it before the young master.

Milo’s eyes widened. This butterfly was as large as a man’s two palms, brilliantly blue, shimmering with light as it swayed, like a huge sapphire. He exclaimed in wonder: “I’ve never seen such a large butterfly.”

“This is the Baron Swallowtail, a unique species found only in Baron.”

Milo paused, withdrew his gaze in disappointment, and tilted his head back to drain the wine in one go, then poured himself another.

Baron was the Duchess’s homeland. And this villa was a gift from the Duke to his wife. The lady had passed away not long after giving birth to Milo, yet in this mansion she had left traces everywhere.

Her hobbies, her playful spirit, her taste in life, every aspect on full display, as if that young foreign princess still lived actively in every corner of the house.

When Milo had transmigrated, the young master was already five years old. He had never seen the Duchess. The original character probably had no memory either, only a complex and sour emotion, strong and deep, pressing down on Milo until he couldn’t breathe. Every scene and object here made him feel restless.

He sighed, his fingertip drawing circles on the wine glass, one hand propping his chin, his little face quietly flushing with red. Looking at the glass, his gaze hazy, he said with feeling: “This place is truly a wretched spot.”

“Young master, endure a while. Once the storm passes, the Duke will naturally bring the young master back to the mansion.” Kael placed the specimen back in its display box, then turned and quietly tucked the wine bottle back into his arms.

“Hmph, I think he’d be perfectly happy to have me squatting here and never come out. Until he marries some princess from who knows where.” Milo scoffed, exhaling a breath of wine, his tone mocking: “When that time comes, I’ll do just like him, get a house, and put the princess inside it, along with her memories and homeland.”

Kael said lightly: “If the young master has such elegant taste, it will surely impress that princess.”

Milo was taken aback, then laughed pleasantly, as if thoroughly amused by Kael’s idea.

He had thought this male lead resembled the Duke in some ways. Thinking that Charlotte’s future would likely be much the same, much of the resentment in his heart dissipated. He only thought this round of gossip and rumors must have been their doing, a disaster falling from the sky, making him want to gnaw their bones.

But he also reflected that the villainous supporting character didn’t do good deeds. Just gaining a little unexpected good reputation, and the backlash came so quickly. He no longer harbored such fantasies. Better to live his own little comfortable life.

Settling his mind, actually the main character group wasn’t worth envying either. Better to be a villainous supporting character like him, relaxed and free. Only his heart felt empty, without joy, instead lost and melancholic.

Milo drained his glass, looking around the room. With most of the ornaments removed, the parlor was much cleaner, but looked desolate and lonely. In a daze, he seemed to sort out some emotion.

He hated seeing his mother placed on display shelves for people to gawk at, but when everything was erased and put away on high shelves, it also chilled his heart. Yet no matter where, the distance between them was always so remote and cold.

Milo gently set down his glass, picked up the candlestick, and rose to return to his room, his steps slightly unsteady but mostly still steady. As he climbed the stairs, a light and airy sentence suddenly drifted down: “Take them away. I don’t want to say it again.”

He did not look back, his voice broken like old strings, defeated and weary. Then, leaning on the railing, he stumbled away, leaving Kael alone in the darkness.

Milo had not specified, but Kael knew. He meant the Baron Swallowtail, and he meant the lady’s portrait.

Kael looked up at the painting. In the moonlight, the noble Duchess sat with dignified composure, as if calmly meeting his gaze. The cold moonlight only emphasized her nobility, and her unreachable distance.

Some people are born destined to be enshrined in the most prominent positions, with a house full of collections insufficient to commemorate her presence. Others cannot hope for even a little space, their very existence a sin, to be strangled, buried, and completely erased in the darkness.

As if seeing wild grass in the intersecting brushstrokes of the oil painting, Kael’s gaze grew deeper, like a bottomless dry well, containing stories that could not be told, only silently swallowing everything through the boundless darkness.