The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 32

The twilight was vast and hazy. When Mark was pulled into the shadows by Milo, he had already vaguely guessed that this day would come.

Butler Kyle had instructed him that if the young master wanted to get some air, he should take him to the lake beside the villa, where it was quiet and peaceful, and not far away. If the young master wanted to look around, he should take him to the small town at the foot of the hill, which was full of hidden sentries and perfectly safe.

If the young master wanted to return to the city center, he should trick him into thinking the journey was too long. If he insisted on going, he should take him on winding mountain roads until they ran into a patrol guard.

Mark kept his head down, quietly waiting for the young master’s instructions.

But Milo’s face was dark, his gaze chillingly sinister, his tone deep and low like a vicious serpent. “Come on, we’re going to find Kyle.”

—

In a luxurious manor clubhouse on the outskirts of the city, the charity banquet was still going on, filled with laughter and flowing music.

Outside, the garden was peaceful, as if separated from the hall’s noise by a wall. The carved fountain trickled softly, insects chirped under the moonlight.

Milo was draped in a dark cloak, crouching in a patch of tree shadow and grass, his hood pulled low, though a strand of golden hair still peeked out by accident.

He buried his face in both hands, breathing lightly, the system alarm buzzing in his head, making him sigh in discomfort from time to time. Yet he still held his breath carefully, hiding in the shadows.

Although he didn’t know what kind of gathering this banquet was, it was nothing more than the usual crowd of social NPCs he ran into. He absolutely dared not show his face.

Young Master Milo had never cared about social circles, but who in those social circles didn’t know him? He didn’t want to be recognized and then dragged off by the duke for a good beating. So he had no choice but to hide in the garden himself and send Mark to find Kyle.

“If you don’t find him, don’t bother coming back to see me…” Milo was seething with killing intent. “Believe me, I’ll kill him…”

Mark had no choice but to obey and leave.

Milo smiled coldly and darkly. It seemed he really had been too nice to Kyle, making him forget what his place was.

Before, Kyle had at least made it back before nightfall. Now the sky was full of stars and he was still out there lingering, surely lost in some soft embrace, too happy to think of home. Pushing his luck. Truly despicable.

He would punish him harshly, discipline him, give him a bloody lesson. No matter where the plot had progressed to, as long as the villainous young master still lived, he would always be number one, beyond question.

Fortunately, he had the foresight to recruit Mark to have on hand. Otherwise, he truly would be crying out to heaven with no answer. Milo rubbed his temples, enduring the thunder in his head, muttering complaints to himself while praising his own cleverness.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before a steady set of footsteps finally approached from afar, unhurried. In the moonlight, a man’s shadow stretched across the ground. Milo saw it and his stomach filled with fire. He jumped up.

“Still dawdling there! Not putting me in your eyes anymore?! Believe me, I’ll skin you alive!”

Milo was charging forward aggressively, nearly lunging at the man, glaring in fury. But it was a man in a navy blue military uniform. It wasn’t Kyle at all.

Valke stood at attention, one hand holding a glass of champagne, a white glove pinched between his fingers, his head slightly bowed, in the middle of using his mouth to pull off his other glove. He froze in an awkward pose, his gray blue eyes falling on Milo, his gaze slightly surprised.

He had slipped away from the suffocating dinner party to catch his breath in the garden, but he hadn’t expected some little person to suddenly pop out and curse him out of nowhere. He was both startled and uneasy.

Both of them were somewhat stunned, staring at each other blankly.

“What are you looking at, get lost!” Milo reacted first, thinking this was bad. He couldn’t let these NPCs recognize him. He tugged his hood lower, not forgetting to say viciously: “You saw nothing. Keep your mouth shut and get out of here.”

With a swish, he squatted back into the grass and vanished into the night in the blink of an eye.

Valke raised an eyebrow, casually tucking the glove into his pocket. He stepped forward two paces and tilted his head for a closer look. He saw the young man crouched and curled in the shadow of the flower bushes, a dark little bundle, with only a pair of golden eyes shining bright, reflecting the moonlight like fire, blooming in the darkness. He looked fierce, hissing in a low voice: “I told you not to look. Go, go, go.”

A cloak that looked like something to hide in, sneaking around in the bushes, anyone would find that suspicious. But Valke didn’t think so. His time in the capital had taught him a lot. Though it was only a glance, he could tell from the young man’s delicate fair skin that he was of noble birth. And golden eyes were not something ordinary nobles had.

Valke was about to say something when he noticed the golden eyes were fixed firmly on his hand. More precisely, on the champagne in his hand. Valke moved it to the left, the golden eyes followed to the left. He moved it to the right, the golden eyes followed to the right.

Valke shook the glass in a gesture. The young man swallowed. The next second, he shot out his hand without the slightest courtesy, snatched the champagne, and tipped his head back to drink it all in one gulp, not a drop left. The pent up frustration of days without alcohol was finally relieved a little. Milo narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, the corners of his eyes turning red.

…Why did that feel a bit like feeding a small animal?

“Not feeling well?” Valke asked.

“Of course I’m not feeling well, can’t you tell?” Milo rubbed his forehead irritably, though his expression had relaxed considerably. “My head is killing me. Go get me a few more glasses.”

Valke leaned in closer, studying the young man’s face. He was pale, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and did indeed look unwell. So he said: “I’ll take you to the lounge and have them fetch a doctor to give you medicine.”

“What good is medicine.” Milo rubbed his head. The slight buzz from the champagne brought some relief, but against the deafening alarm, it only added to the dizziness. His vision was even blurring, and he felt a bit like throwing up. “This isn’t a simple headache. It’s like my head is exploding with noise, like a train rumbling back and forth. Do you understand?”

Valke didn’t know what a train was, but from the young man’s description, it sounded like auditory hallucinations. Many warriors on the snowfields would hear the thunder of avalanches or cannon fire in the dead of silent nights.

An idea came to him. He sat down on the ground and said to the young man: “Deep breaths.”

“Deep breaths my foot…” Milo bared his teeth and growled.

“Focus on your breathing. Deep breaths.” The man was unmoved, only looking at him, his gaze steady and calm. “Breathe in… breathe out…”

The man’s tone was calm, yet carried an innate power that commanded respect without anger, giving an inexplicable sense of reassurance and trust. By the time Milo realized it, he had already unconsciously followed the man’s instructions, breathing in and out.

“Why won’t you listen to what I say.” Milo scratched his head, impatiently scolding: “Stop with the deep breaths, it’s useless. You might as well talk to me.”

“Talk about what?”

“You can’t even make conversation.” Milo rolled his eyes. This guy was dressed quite sharply, yet he couldn’t even carry a conversation. An inferior social NPC. Milo had no choice but to fend for himself: “How old are you, where do you live?”

“My name is not An An.” Valke looked up at the star filled sky, as if admiring the night, as if not wanting to see another person’s expression. “Twenty two. From Snowbrown.”

But Milo hadn’t been listening carefully at all, hadn’t even lifted his eyes. He just rubbed his head and muttered: “Twenty two, huh. Married? Got a girlfriend?”

“No.” Valke let out a breath, as if relaxing somewhat, yet his tone was heavy. “My blood debt remains unavenged. I do not speak of starting a family.”

“I see, so you’re the career type.” Milo looked up, seeming interested. His head was spinning, and he had become quite chatty instead: “Me too. Establish your career first, then talk about starting a family. Or maybe just don’t start one at all. Keeping a car is enough, where’s the money to get a wife. Better to focus on overtime and live well on your own.”

“If you have money for a car, how can you not have money for a wife?” Valke found it strange. Those who could afford a carriage were not from ordinary families. Even in the capital, many people walked. Those slightly better off kept horses, and only occasionally hired carriages.

“It’s because I have a car that I don’t have money. It needs upkeep, and once you start maintaining it, your monthly salary isn’t enough.” Milo suddenly remembered his little car he hadn’t seen in twelve years, feeling somewhat proud: “Let me tell you, my car is so cool. When I go out, everyone looks at me. Way more eye catching than a girlfriend.”

Though some of the vocabulary was unclear, Valke guessed the general meaning from context. The capital was all flash and no substance, full of colorful characters, flashy dress, exaggerated behavior. Wasn’t it all for show, to be above others, to get attention?

Carriages and mansions decorated in resplendent gold and jade, plus hiring many servants to maintain them, surely cost a fortune. No wonder someone so wealthy was still stretched thin. Their view of life was far less practical than the people of the snowfields.

“Money should be spent where it counts.” Seeing Milo’s childish behavior, Valke was moved by an elder’s heart, speaking earnestly: “You don’t necessarily need a car. Riding a horse or walking is fine.”

“Everyone else has one, why can’t I? I work so hard, what’s wrong with enjoying a little?” Milo cracked a grin, forcing out a mischievous smile: “Let me tell you, rest is so you can walk a longer road. If you let me enjoy myself enough today, I’ll work even harder tomorrow.”

Valke shook his head, disagreeing: “Indulging in material desires only weakens the mind. You need self discipline and restraint, quiet reflection, to forge an unbreakable mind and create strength and victory.”

“Who wants strength and victory…” Where did this drill sergeant come from. Milo muttered resentfully.

Valke raised an eyebrow slightly, not angry, but his voice firm and strong: “Only through strength can you protect your homeland. Only through victory can you protect your dignity and honor.”

Who would have thought the capital still had NPCs like this. Rather refreshing. Milo couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. He just held his head, breathing for a moment, then spoke slowly: “Aren’t you exhausted, living like this?”

Valke was taken aback.

The Snowry people pursued power and victory, carved into their bones like ice. Such spirits, the capital with all its luxury and wealth, would never understand.

But he was still young, had fought countless battles, traveled across mountains and rivers to reach the capital, hitting walls everywhere, setback after setback, already weather beaten. Now he was alone and held captive, unable to stretch his wings, anxious and tormented in his heart. It was an extremely difficult time.

For months, he had been angry, dejected, lost, worried. His thoughts had turned over a hundred times, unknown to anyone. Even though the crowds of the capital cheered for him and applauded him, no one had ever asked him this question. He himself had never even thought about it.

Now, under the high moon and quiet night, the young man’s soft gentle words actually stirred something subtle in him, his chest warming slightly.

Valke took a deep breath, as if a switch had been flipped. Hot and sour emotions spread like smoke. For a moment, a hundred feelings surged through him. His throat moved, but no words came out.

Suddenly his arm was grabbed. For some reason, Valke reacted with a violent shudder, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. He turned his head and found the young man gripping his arm, his small frame curled up and trembling slightly. The next second…

“Urrgh… uurgh…”

—

Mark had circled the banquet a few times but hadn’t seen Butler Kyle or any familiar servants. He asked several attendants, but none knew much. In the end, he still couldn’t stop worrying about the young master and rushed back to the garden, only to find no sign of him.

Not believing his bad luck, he circled the garden inside and out twice. His heart suddenly sank, cold sweat running down his spine.

In an instant, it was as if he heard a horse’s long whinny. His heart leaped to his throat, hanging in midair as if gripped by someone’s hand, not knowing whether to run first or kneel first.