The Villainous Male Supporting Character Courts Death Every Day : Chapter 33

In the sitting room, Prince Lucian sat with elegant posture, unmoving as a statue, like a breathtaking oil painting that made all the room’s luxury seem dim by comparison. His platinum eyes fell upon Kyle, like daylight behind mist, so sacred they brooked no trespass.

“Kyle, it has been some years, yet you still remember me. That is heartening.” Lucian waved his hand lightly, indicating for Kyle to sit. His tone was mild. “How has the Duke been of late?”

“Thanks to Your Highness’s concern, the Duke is well as ever.” Kyle’s eyes lowered as he seated himself gracefully, every movement perfectly calibrated respect. “The light of platinum, Orsay’s eternal glory. Your Highness’s magnificent presence has never been forgotten.”

“That is good to hear. Then I am relieved.” Lucian smiled faintly, his gaze gentle yet somewhat weary. “The light of platinum, for all its radiance, is no less a responsibility carved into the blood.”

At that moment, a burst of applause came from the distant hall, followed by faint strains of symphony, interspersed with occasional peaks of laughter and merriment.

Lucian lowered his eyes, his tone soft yet his words heavy. “The borders have been troubled for years, the fires of war never extinguished. Beyond the city walls, famine strikes year after year, the people’s livelihoods withering away. Yet the noble sons of the capital know nothing but song and dance, living in drunken revelry as if dead to the world.”

Kyle kept his eyes lowered and said nothing. Whatever the prince was alluding to, there was not a single word here that he could respond to, that was fitting to respond to, that he was worthy of responding to.

“Fortunately, today’s speech was the first time I have heard something of substance amid all this decadent music.” Lucian looked up, his pale gold irises like the light of the polar skies, so ethereal they were almost otherworldly, betraying no emotion. “Kyle, you have done well. A Music Association led by you is what the empire needs.”

Kyle’s breath caught for an instant, his body turning slightly cold, as if an icy blade were pressed against his neck.

He had never shown his face in any Music Association matter. Even when coming and going from headquarters or banquets, he was merely one guest or visitor among many.

Even within the Association itself, at most people sensed he was closely involved, perhaps because the Duke was monitoring donation flows, perhaps because he wanted to build connections, perhaps any number of possibilities.

For the prince to pin him as the leader in a single sentence, that was far too certain.

Candle flames flickered, shadows stretching silently, and the entire room seemed to freeze.

Kyle’s expression did not change. He bent slightly forward, his posture flawless in its deference, his tone neither servile nor arrogant. “I await Your Highness’s command.”

“The Northern Territories support plan is excellent. If everyone in the empire shared such resolve, the nation would prosper and the people grow strong. It would not be impossible for Orsay to reclaim its glory.” Lucian’s tone remained gentle, like distant mountain clouds, faintly drifting. “On behalf of the royal house, I commend you. Well done.”

“Many thanks, Your Highness the Prince.” Kyle rose and bowed. “Your Highness’s love for country and people, your generosity and benevolence, shall be engraved upon my heart. I shall not disappoint your expectations.”

“How could my benevolence compare to a thousand gold?” Lucian’s lips curved slightly, his smile ethereal, his tone shifting like wispy smoke. “The Queen’s benevolence is naturally the light of the empire, and it is also the benevolence of the imperial royal house.”

Kyle lowered his head and said, “The shining benevolence of the light of platinum is Orsay’s true blessing. The people are all grateful, prostrating themselves in worship.”

“Kyle, it is fortunate that you are a clever man.” Lucian sighed, as if an immortal exhaling orchid fragrance. “But how many clever men are there in this world? Now, throughout the empire, all remember only the Queen’s benevolence, not the shining benevolence of platinum.”

His pale gold eyes swept past the candle shadows, like a ray of dawn light suddenly breaking through, his voice unhurried, clouds parting and mist dispersing. “And even less do they know of the one who truly loves country and people.”

Lucian’s voice grew softer, yet it spread like vast waves of mist, impossible to ignore.

Kyle’s gaze shifted, understanding instantly. He bowed low at once, his right hand placed over his heart in salute. “Your Highness’s love for country and people is the empire’s true grace.”

Kyle rose and looked up, his gaze deep, his tone calm yet resonant with force. “The Association shall naturally bear this responsibility, spreading this grace throughout the world, taking it as our mission.”

—

When Kyle left the room, night had already fallen. His face was grave, until a cool breeze brushed his hair and brought a slight chill. Only then did he let out a soft breath, looking up to see the Milky Way pouring down, stars and moon shining together.

It was already so late. The young master would surely be angry.

Kyle’s brow ached faintly. Milo was the son of a grand duke, and had grown up playing with the royal family. As his personal attendant, Kyle had naturally come to know the prince, and the prince had come to know him.

But in recent years, the Duke’s power had grown to dominate the court, seemingly on intimate terms with His Majesty the King, yet falling into an indescribably delicate relationship with other members of the royal house. Prince Lucian in particular. Consequently, Milo and the prince had not been in contact for many years.

This sudden summons might offer opportunity, but it also put him in danger, caught between enemies on all sides, trapped in a dilemma.

In truth, which guild or association in the capital was not controlled by some powerful magnate behind the scenes? If the prince chose to expose this matter, it might not threaten others, but for Kyle, it struck directly at his vital point.

A pair of suspicious eyes was fixed upon him. He could walk, but not too far. He should act, but not too much. Every move was measured against a scale, and the standard of that scale came from the Duke’s suspicion.

That suspicion was like the blood in his veins, like every strand of hair on his head, an original sin he could never escape in his lifetime.

He did not fear that sin, nor did he fear those suspicious eyes. The only thing he feared was the possibility of losing the young master.

All his scheming and ambition were so that he could stand unshakably by the young master’s side. If the Duke discovered he had done what he should not have done, he might very well strip him of the right to remain by the young master’s side.

But if he were discovered working with the prince, the consequence might be that he would never see the young master again…

The charity banquet was still going on. From the hall came the stirring melodies of Snowbrown. Kyle didn’t need to look to picture Zabert’s flamboyant figure, and the corner of his mouth curved into a bitter smile.

Not long ago, in a quiet private box, he had taken hold of the old gentleman in just a few words. But now, was he not himself being taken hold of in just a few words?

In the pyramid of power, the easier it was for him to control those below, the easier it was for those above to control him.

In the end, he was still too weak…

The servant waiting outside saw him emerge and immediately rushed over, whispering in his ear. Kyle’s face changed abruptly, and he hurried toward the VIP room.

In the private VIP room, Milo was already dizzy and disoriented, having vomited who knew how many times. He simply hugged a basin and curled up in a dry bathtub.

Before seeing Kyle, he had thought up all kinds of ways to punish him. Fifty lashes, a hundred lashes, none of it would ease the hatred in his heart. But when he saw Kyle rushing toward him, a heavy stone fell from his heart. The loathing instantly vanished like smoke, replaced by a flood of security and the relief of skies finally clearing after rain.

“Kyle… I will punish you…” Milo was barely breathing, reaching a hand toward Kyle.

“Young master, it is my fault. Please punish me.” Seeing Milo in such a weak and dependent state, Kyle’s heart ached so much it nearly shattered. He carefully gathered the young man into his arms, his tone so soft it seemed to melt into water.

Pale fingertips trembled as they reached the man’s face. The man was about to take hold of them when he saw the fingers curl, the index finger lightly flicking the man’s forehead.

A soft tap. The wrist fell. Milo let out a deep breath, as if freed from all his discomfort, then leaned against the man’s chest and moved no more, his breathing even. He had fallen asleep.

Milo had been changed into clean clothes and lay sleeping on the bed. The old doctor examined him with his tools, chattering away. “We gave him stomach medicine, painkillers, nothing worked. So we gave the young master a sleeping draught to let him sleep through the pain. But for some reason, he could never sleep deeply.”

The doctor checked him carefully round after round, confirming there was nothing seriously wrong, before letting out a breath of relief. Then he looked at Kyle, who was keeping watch at the bedside, and managed a strained smile. “Butler Kyle arrived, and now he is finally sleeping soundly. The young master truly cannot do without Butler Kyle.”

Kyle looked at the young master’s sleeping face, lowering his head in silence, his fingers quietly touching his own brow, warmth swelling in his chest. As if all the fear from before had found its answer in this moment of dependence.

—

Because Milo had vomited all over him in a confused mess, Valke was also freed from the banquet.

He had carried the young man to the lounge, but the young man was completely uncooperative, refusing to see anyone, refusing to see a doctor, and refusing to give his name, leaving Valke with no way to find his family.

Fortunately, his judgment had been correct. The young man was no ordinary person. He had Andre come to identify him, and Andre recognized him at a glance, promptly taking over. Before long, a crowd of servants came swarming in to collect him.

They said he was the esteemed son of a duke.

Esteemed? Remembering the little bundle crouched in the grass, baring his teeth, yet with golden eyes shining expectantly, where did he look like a capital noble? He looked more like a fox begging for food in the snow. Valke’s face was full of dark lines, yet the corner of his mouth curved into a barely perceptible smile.

Stripping off the navy blue military dress uniform stained with filth, the man finally relaxed completely.

His iron black body was like armor, taut and solid, with clearly defined muscles, carrying the unique cold hardness and power of a snowfield warrior. His chest was thick, his shoulders and back broad, covered with scars sharp as ice blades, like marks carved by wind and snow.

He sank into the bath, hot water covering his chest, his arms stretching out to either side, his head leaning back against the bath’s edge, resting his eyes in repose.

In a haze, he remembered that it had been a very long time since he had spoken so easily with anyone.