How to Survive as a Supporting Male Lead

Pop! Once again, a sound of another balloon popping, this time from Derrick’s throw.

“Wow! I got it, Derrick!”

“Well done.”

Yuhwa had jumped in and nailed a balloon, bright voice ringing out.

“Why don’t we split into teams?”

Yuhwa chirped loudly.

The three men exchanged glances. No words needed.Tthere was instant, unspoken agreement.

Pop!

A balloon burst.

And so began the dart game that would upend Kallian’s entire life.

* * *

Since they were going to play in teams, they decided to make it interesting with a bet. The rules were simple, universal, and absolute: the losing team would grant the winning team any wish.

Suddenly caught up in a bet and unexpectedly teamed up with Iann, Kallian was more than a little thrown. But unlike him, Iann, who had to win at everything, especially games, was brimming with determination.

“Kallian. From this moment on, you and I are comrades-in-arms. You know what that means? Live together, die together.”

“Why go that far.”

“From now on, consider us one body.”

“Seriously, why…”

“If we lose, we’re screwed.”

“Just worry about yourself.”

It was only after those harsh words that Kallian felt his own determination ignite. If he lost because of Iann, he was going to make sure Iann paid for it.

Giving Iann a light rebuke, Kallian picked up a blue dart and threw it at the balloons.

Pop! The balloon burst cleanly, and in that moment, Kallian realized something. He’d been playing darts with Iann almost every year.

“I didn’t think I’d be playing darts with you again this year.”

“Same here.”

Iann, tossing his dart, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Or maybe he was just trying to cover up missing the shot. Kallian saw the blue dart clatter to the floor and let out a dry laugh.

Iann spoke again.

“You know… this is the first time we’re playing on the same team.”

“Yes. It is.”

It was obvious. He was trying to deflect attention. Even so, Kallian answered him. Maybe because he felt a flicker of nostalgia, too. They’d always treated darts as another battle, another competition, but today, they were playing as allies.

“…..”

It was also the first time he’d seen Iann’s focused expression up close. His lips stuck out a bit when he concentrated. His brows drew tight. Maybe Yuhwa was right—maybe he didn’t know Iann as well as he thought. Every time he looked at Iann, there was something new.

Feeling a sudden burst of irritation, Kallian spoke up again.

“Do you remember back then?”

“Back then? When?”

Iann’s dart missed again, clattering to the ground.

“When we were eight… or you were probably ten.”

Kallian’s dart hit the target, while Iann, flustered at missing again, grumbled.

“Who remembers being ten years old?”

“You don’t?”

Kallian’s hand hesitated as he went to throw another dart, and he turned a hollow gaze on Iann. But Iann was just focusing on his own shot.

“No, Iann.”

“I hit it!”

“Don’t you remember stealing that stuffed toy?”

Was he the only one who remembered? For Kallian, it was a vivid memory.

It had been seventeen years ago. It had been less than a year since he’d been brought from the back streets to the Duke’s mansion.

The big, imposing ducal mansion had been too heavy and scary for young Kalian. Moreover, after spending most of his childhood in the back alleys, the sudden thrust of training the heir to the dukedom sickened him.

The Duke’s cold, dismissive gaze, the servants who treated him like dirt, the constant bullying, and the physical and mental torment from the Duchess… Kallian had barely begun to emerge from the gutter, only to be thrown back into the mud.

The young noble children he met occasionally were no better. They scorned him, tormented him.

Returning home from those encounters, the Duke and Duchess would greet him with even greater violence, saying he was failing in his duties as heir to the Great House of Dervel. He was locked up, starved, beaten.

Then, Iann appeared.

“Hey. You’re Kallian Khan Dervel, right?”

Little Iann hadn’t even waited for an answer before grabbing Kallian’s face and turning it this way and that. With his mouth hanging open in surprise, Kallian was jostled around like a rag doll by those small, insistent hands.

“Yep, it’s you. Black hair, red eyes.”

“……”

“Hey. Let’s be friends.”