NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Finally, The Fated Meeting! (3)

“Th-there are just so many stories about the young master, it wouldn’t do justice to pick just one. It’s the entire legend that inspired us.”

Reiner’s honeyed words dripped like a practiced seduction, but for the first time since this little performance began, he shifted his gaze to Artis. And oh boy, the look on his face said it all.

Disdain, disbelief, and a dash of ‘what-the-fuck-is-this-guy-doing-here?’

From the way Artis sat there with his stupid, easy grin—like he wasn’t even aware of the situation—Reiner almost choked on his own arrogance.

This clown? This plain-ass pebble of a man was sitting at the same table as the young master? Reiner’s ego couldn’t handle it.

‘What a basic bitch of a guy… Tsk, tsk.’

Reiner mentally scoffed as he studied Artis. His brain worked overtime trying to figure out what kind of plot twist this was. Because, as far as he was concerned, he was peak male form.

With his chiseled jawline, fiery red hair, and body sculpted like a wet dream, Reiner believed the universe had graced him to remind everyone else of their mediocrity.

‘Why the fuck is this nobody sitting here? Who even is this guy? Does he carry the young master’s laundry or polish his boots or something? There’s no way this plain bastard has an actual role here.’

If Artis knew what Reiner was thinking, he’d have probably pissed himself laughing.

But instead, Artis just kept his idiot-smile plastered on his face, completely unfazed, while Reiner’s brain spiraled into a meltdown trying to categorize him somewhere between peasant and cosmic mistake.

Reiner had sent Daphne to gather intel on the young master and his entourage. Why Daphne? Well, because Galore was as sharp as a fucking sack of potatoes.

The big oaf would probably bumble his way into spilling their plans instead of extracting any useful information.

Daphne, being a woman with a brain slightly more functional than Galore’s, was the logical choice.

Not as brilliant as Reiner himself, obviously—no one was—but she at least knew how to flash a little leg and squeeze intel out of horny idiots.

The funny thing? Daphne had come back with a report about a man who was apparently the young master’s close confidant. Reiner had immediately dismissed it.

Why?

Because this supposed best buddy was supposed to be fucking dead. Kicked the bucket. Worm food. There was no way in hell that guy could be alive, let alone hanging out with the young master now.

But here’s the kicker—Daphne never mentioned this asshole.

Reiner’s jaw clenched as he stared at the smirking nobody who was casually chatting with the young master, like he owned the place. His mind raced.

‘Who the fuck is this guy? Daphne didn’t say shit about him. He’s not the dead guy, is he? Nah, can’t be… But he’s speaking so freely, like he’s on the same goddamn level as the young master. What the actual fuck? Did I miss a memo? Who might he be?’

Reiner’s ego couldn’t handle it. This random dude, sitting there like he belonged? Reiner didn’t like mysteries—especially when they looked like smug, unremarkable twats.

His eye twitched as the nobody across from him grinned like he’d just told the joke of the century, then dropped another verbal bomb.

“But seriously, come on. Share the one story. The one that made you think, ‘Yes, this is the man I should pledge my life to. The man I should grovel to. The man among men whose boots I should kiss like a lovesick puppy.’ Come on, surely there’s one!”

It was like every word was a freshly sharpened knife plunging into Reiner’s overinflated ego.

‘Man among men? Boot licking?’

His entire body screamed in silent protest.

He was a goddamn hero! The chosen one! People groveled to him, not the other way around. And who the fuck was this smug piece of shit to talk to him like that? He wasn’t even a sidekick in this story—he was the dirt under the sidekick’s boots!

‘Boot licking? Fuck you, asshole. No man is manlier than me, you little shit. The only boots that get licked are mine, and you’d better bring your tongue next.’

Reiner could feel his rage boiling under the surface, a volcano ready to erupt. His jaw clenched so hard it could’ve cracked a walnut, but his face stayed locked in that serene, hero-like mask of calm.

‘This is not the time to lose your shit. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re a hero. Act like it, you cocky bastard.’

Just as he was about to release a perfectly calculated verbal smackdown that would remind this nobody of his true place in the universe, the young master’s voice cut through the tension.

“That’s true. I want to hear that one story that made you believe I should be your master.”

The young master declared, leaning back in his chair with the smug confidence of a man who thought the universe revolved around his perfectly styled hair.

‘Master?! Him?!’

Reiner felt his temple throb as a vein threatened to burst through his skull. Thankfully, his hood hid it from view, but the sheer rage bubbling beneath his skin was harder to contain than Galore after too much beer.

From the corner of his ear, he caught Daphne’s low, poorly concealed snicker.

‘Oh, laugh it up, bitch. If you weren’t the princess’s pet, I’d have bent you over ages ago. Fuck!’

But before he could process his seething hatred—or figure out a way to regain control of the conversation—Galore decided now was the time to unleash his idiocy.

“Th-the recent valor story was the one that made us believe, young master.”

Galore stammered, his voice as solid as wet paper.

Reiner’s head snapped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash.

He glared daggers at Galore, his eyes silently screaming, You dumb fuck! I will shove your own sword so far up your ass, you’ll be breathing steel.

The young master, however, lit up like a child who’d just been handed a bag of candy and a parade in his honor.

“Recent one? Oh, which one is that? Come on, spit it out!”

Before Galore could unleash another stream of brainless word vomit that would only dig their graves deeper, Reiner took the reins.

“Ah, yes, young master. Allow me to recount it for you. My friend tends to… oversimplify things.”

Reiner began smoothly, his tone so polished it practically gleamed.

“It was the one where you split that pervert Artis in half for peeping at the Matriarch! Yes, that one! It was so badass to hear. And, of course, killing one of your best friends was tragic, but hey, he was a pervert who dared to peep at your mother.

“Your mother! Like, who the does that? Nobody should perv on their friend’s mom!”

Reiner puffed out his chest, feeling like he’d just delivered an Oscar-worthy monologue.

The young master’s expression was unreadable—mouth slightly open, eyes wide, as if processing the story.

Reiner took that as a win, at least until he caught Chen in his peripheral vision, desperately trying to hold back laughter but failing miserably.

“Wh-what is it, Lord Chen? Why are you laughing like that?”

Reiner asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and indignation.

That was all it took for Chen to completely lose it, doubling over in a full-blown laughing fit.

The two busty women perched on Jin’s lap joined in, their melodic giggles ringing out, while Jin himself chuckled, shaking his head like a disappointed parent watching his kid try to tie their shoelaces and failing miserably.

“N-nothing, nothing…”

Chen said between chuckles, waving his hand dismissively.

“I’m just amused by the fact that you got literally everything wrong in that story. Like, not one fucking detail was correct… except maybe one part.”

Reiner froze, his confident façade cracking like an egg dropped on the floor. He felt his soul leave his body for a moment.

“P-pardon? What part is incorrect?”

He stammered, his voice cracking like a preteen trying to impress his crush.

He glanced at Daphne, who met his eyes with that fucking smirk of hers. It screamed, I told you so, dumbass. If smirks could bitch-slap someone, this one would’ve knocked him across the room.

Chen, now grinning like a cat who found the cream, pointed across the table at the man who wasn’t laughing. The one whose face could only be described as fuck this circus.

“…the only part you got right,” Chen said, savoring every syllable, “is him being a pervert. Everything else? Complete and utter bullshit.”

Chen clapped his hands dramatically, like he was hosting a game show.

“What?!”

Reiner’s head snapped to the man in question, who had turned toward him with the kind of smoldering glare that could burn through steel. The fucker even had the audacity to smile.

“Artis,” the man said smoothly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know when I supposedly peeked at my matriarch, but, please, for the love of fuck, don’t give me that credit.”

Reiner’s jaw hit the floor so hard it practically bounced. His wide eyes darted between Artis and the others, searching for some kind of confirmation that this was all an elaborate prank. But no—this was real, and he was the punchline.

‘How the fuck is this possible?!’

His brain screamed.

‘Artis?! Alive?! I fucking read his ending in the novel!’