The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 2: Master

“Kyle, let’s go practice swordsmanship later.” Milo feigned casualness, though his eyes curved into crescents.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, seeming somewhat surprised, but still replied respectfully: “Yes, young master. It is my honor to practice swordsmanship with you.”

Milo narrowed his eyes triumphantly. His so-called practice together was certainly not actual practice together. It was him, the young master, sitting leisurely in the pavilion sipping tea, watching Kyle spar with knights under the scorching sun.

Kyle’s sword moved like flowing water, tracing elegant arcs. His body was light and his swordsmanship skilled. Each step, each strike, carried both the steadiness of defense and the fierceness of attack.

Milo watched Kyle’s vigorous figure, his gaze lingering on his sweat-soaked clothes, imagining the mess of sweat soaking his wounds, the corners of his mouth rising unconsciously.

Tormenting him was truly endless fun. That was his purpose as the young master.

Watching Kyle’s composed face, imagining the pain of wielding his sword, Milo pursed his lips slightly, a sadistic pleasure rising in his heart, floating and drifting.

The clashing sounds of weapons striking again and again were like notes of a symphony, driving a feast of carefree joy. He lifted his teacup, his fingertips tracing the gilded patterns on the cup, his golden eyes narrowing, his smile growing deeper.

Until the third knight was defeated, the young master finally praised: “Butler Kyle’s swordsmanship is indeed exceptional.”

Kyle panted heavily, crystal beads of sweat sliding down his neck, yet it did not detract from his perfect posture. He merely bowed respectfully: “Thank you for the young master’s praise. To receive your approval is my greatest honor.”

Seeing that his goal had been achieved, Milo decided to move on to the next activity. He elegantly drank the last sip of tea and said with a bright smile: “Butler Kyle is too modest. Having such an excellent person by my side puts my heart at ease. While the weather is still pleasant, let us go riding at the stables.”

Kyle knew full well this was merely another form of torture, yet he did not mind, merely bowing in response: “Yes, young master. With pleasure.”

Milo’s smile deepened, his face full of sadistic pleasure. He knew that no matter how he tormented Kyle, Kyle would accommodate him, obey him, all for that tiny hope in his heart, the hope that one day he would be accepted by the ducal family. This was the plot arrangement, the protagonist’s background setting, and also the leverage that allowed Milo to act as he pleased.

He was the tool-like malicious supporting male character, the creator of Kyle’s dark personality, and the master of his tragic fate.

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Dust flew at the stables under the blazing sun, and the wind carried the fresh scent of green grass. Milo was dressed in white riding attire, looking dashing and spirited. The white horse beneath him was tall and vigorous, walking alongside Kyle’s low-key black horse.

Kyle’s mount was of lesser quality than the young master Milo’s fine steed, yet he still rode like the wind, enduring the torment of the blazing sun, sweat, and stinging wounds. His posture was straight without stiffness, his hands controlling the reins steady and strong.

Milo suddenly hooked the corner of his mouth, raised his whip to speed up, and the white horse shot out like an arrow. His golden hair danced wildly in the wind. Milo looked back and gave Kyle a provocative smile, as wild and unrestrained as himself, kicking up a rolling cloud of yellow sand behind him.

Kyle’s eyes darkened. He gripped the reins tightly, his body leaning slightly forward, his black long boots pressed tight against the horse’s belly. Every movement and adjustment was precise beyond compare. Under his control, the black horse stepped out a fierce rhythm, galloping swiftly. His black hair remained perfectly undisturbed in the gale, his clothes hem fluttering in the wind, as if he were born one with the horse, like a steady shadow, silently following behind Milo.

The sun was scorching, the sunlight burning directly down. The young man’s skin was delicate and tender, his physical fitness inferior to Kyle’s. Before long he was sunburned red all over his face. Kyle couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. The young master was truly going to any lengths to torment him, even risking his own health to keep him company.

He immediately slowed his horse with a heart full of concern, falling back half a horse’s length, using his body to shield Milo from the harsh sunlight, and asked with care: “Young master, the weather is hot. Would you like to rest for a moment?”

Milo was already somewhat dizzy, his gaze unfocused, yet he still stubbornly put on a brave face, teasing: “What? Is Butler Kyle tired?”

Kyle secretly had a headache. He looked around and pointed to a patch of shade, saying: “I see that the trees over there cast thick shadows, and the grass is clean and flat. It is an ideal place to cool off and rest. Why not go over for a short break?”

Though the young master was stubborn with his words, he truly was already struggling to hold on. Hearing Kyle’s description, he felt drawn to it, so he reined in his horse and gave orders with feigned reluctance: “Then as you wish. Let us go rest.”

Kyle quickly drove the horses to the shade, took off his coat and spread it on the grass, carefully helping the young master dismount to rest. He observed Milo’s complexion, his face flushed with an unnatural pink, and was deeply worried. He picked up the waterskin, poured a cup of tea, and urged softly: “Young master, drink some cool tea to relieve the heat.”

Milo took it and drank it all in one go, feeling much cooler and refreshed. Enjoying Kyle’s fanning service, he simply lay down directly, feeling the coolness of the grass, squinting his eyes drowsily.

Kyle fanned him while coaxing the young master to drink more tea. Seeing Milo’s drowsy and sleepy appearance, his heart ached: “Young master, why not return to your room to rest? Do not get heatstroke.”

Milo did indeed feel some heat attacking him, and with Kyle’s persuasion, he readily agreed. After all, his goal of tormenting Kyle had already been achieved. He had no desire to suffer himself.

Seeing that Milo had finally agreed, Kyle secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly called for a carriage, laid down comfortable cushions, and helped Milo aboard.

Only when Milo stood up did he feel a wave of dizziness, his whole head spinning. The bumpy ride made him feel nauseous all the way. Until he returned to his room, he was still groggy, falling into a deep sleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Kyle sat by the bed, gazing at Milo’s sleeping face, his gaze full of love and pity. He carefully massaged Milo’s temples with a gentle touch, afraid of disturbing this peace.

The young man’s features were delicate, his skin porcelain white. Though he had not yet fully grown, he already showed the handsome grace he would have in the future, making it impossible to look away. Kyle leaned down, his nostrils flaring slightly, and sniffed the faint morning fragrance on the young master. It was brief yet lingering, like secretly kissing a ray of morning light.

Suddenly, the peace was broken by footsteps outside the door. A trusted servant entered and reported in a low voice: “Butler Kyle, there are some matters regarding land rent that require your judgment.”

Kyle frowned slightly. It turned out that Milo was mischievous and uninvolved in affairs, throwing all the family business and miscellaneous tasks assigned to him by the duke onto Butler Kyle, paying no attention to them himself. In the servants’ eyes, Butler Kyle was clearly the one with real power and the ability to make decisions.

Kyle sighed, unwillingly stroking Milo’s bangs, quietly exiting the room, closing the door, instructing the servants to take careful care of him, then turning to leave.

The moment he stepped into the meeting room, Kyle’s eyes instantly turned gloomy, revealing a fierce and imposing authority: “Speak. What is it?”

Inside the meeting room, sunlight streamed through the tall windows onto the dark carpet, casting mottled light and shadow. Several stewards stood nervously on either side, reporting in low voices about the situation of overdue land rent.

Kyle sat at the head of the conference table, his back against the long chair, his hands folded over his knees, his fingertips tapping slowly and rhythmically, yet like a cold scrutiny.

“List out all the households with overdue land rent, down to the last penny.” Kyle’s tone was calm, yet carried a chill: “All those who have delayed, made excuses, or kept unclear records, step forward and explain the reasons.”

The stewards hemmed and hawed, sweating profusely, explaining the chaotic accounts, unclear responsibilities, and endless land rent disputes, shifting the blame for the various reasons behind the delayed rent. Kyle listened silently without saying a word, picking up his pocket watch with one hand, his thumb tapping casually along the edge.

“Chaotic accounts? Land rent disputes? And this is the explanation you give me?” Kyle raised an eyebrow, his gaze dark and deep, as if he had already seen through everything, and said lightly: “Then let us conduct a thorough audit. I am very much looking forward to what we will find.” Each word was like an ice needle, piercing the stewards’ hearts.

The stewards felt as if they were in an ice cellar, sweat sliding down their foreheads. Their excuses were merely temporary measures. If a thorough audit were truly conducted, what would be found would not be limited to overdue land rent. Every item that could not withstand scrutiny would be enough to kill them a hundred times over.

Kyle swept his gaze across one pale face after another, his eyes sharp, looking each of them directly in the eyes, listening to their weak defenses and pleas. Kyle’s fingertips rubbed the patterns on the watch case, thinking of the young man’s tender skin and his weariness in the morning light, the corner of his mouth unconsciously curving into a gentle smile.

“Robbing Peter to pay Paul… truly the traditional wisdom of this household.” Kyle’s tone was neither hurried nor slow, yet carried a veiled threat, like a cold dagger piercing the heart and lungs. The stewards’ hearts trembled, all of them feeling as if a sharp blade were gripping their lifeblood, trembling with fear.

“However, I only look after what falls within the young master’s duties. No matter who is neglected, the young master should not be neglected,” Kyle slowly turned the links of the watch chain, his tone very light: “No matter what methods you use, you must ensure the young master need not worry.”

Each word fell like the night pressing down. The stewards kept their heads low, too terrified to make a sound.

The meeting ended. Kyle leaned back in his chair, his wrist swaying lightly as he toyed with the delicate pocket watch, a meaningful smile on his lips, cold and eerie.

Beneath the glorious exterior of the ducal mansion, how many filthy and rotten scandals and bad accounts were hidden, like a sewer. No one wanted to stir up trouble and get themselves dirty. They could only barely maintain the balance, letting the vicious cycle beneath continue to fester, with undercurrents surging.

But it was precisely these accumulated malpractices and chaos that gave him his opportunity. He wove a web, letting his young master fall into it step by step, sinking deep into the mud, never able to leave him again.

He was the young master’s eternal servant, and also his master.