Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 370 : Consciousness Returned (2)

In the cover of night, as Yutia recounted her tale, the mishap of Alon seizing back his body's control failed to happen.

Dawn broke the next day.

Thank goodness.

Even had movement been possible, he likely would've stayed still anyway.

Yutia hadn't wasted the whole night solely on her own tales—she transmitted her past recollections to Alon, her tone steady yet laced with worry.

With every segment, she tossed in notes on her age from those times...

That hardly mattered, though.

Alon merely grasped a key insight.

Deep inside, Yutia fretted far more over her age than she'd ever let on.

Even so…

Alon attempted a fresh calculation.

He'd barely dwelled on it before, figuring Yutia to be near twenty.

Psychedelia revealed scant details of her origins, after all.

The game offered only a grim destiny for her backstory, so Alon—who'd mulled her years previously—now puzzled over it once more.

Not some huge riddle, yet…

Should she truly be that ancient, why did Yutia show up as her ten-years-younger version in both the game and this realm?

While musing on this amid the foggy blur of semi-awareness, the door let out a creak.

“Master!”

Seolrang had arrived.

Her vibrant, joyful tone rang out as spirited as always.

In one bouncy stride, she dropped beside Alon's bed and started fumbling around with items.

She was clearly scheming something.

“Hmm, kind of disappointing…”

What exactly was she up to?

Trapped with thoughts alone and body immobile, Alon couldn't pinpoint it.

Yet the gentle swish by his arm revealed she was tampering with him in some way.

Some time later—

“Master, did you know?”

Seolrang started chatting.

Mirroring Yutia, she delved into shared past moments with Alon.

Unlike Yutia, however, she skipped any age mentions entirely.

Minutes slipped by in hush.

“Hm-hmm~”

Her once-lively voice softened moments later.

Then—

“You know what, Master? You liked me best.”

She murmured into his ear like spilling a hidden truth.

“You did! You said I was the cutest! You hated that horned idiot kid, and the one who always did weird stuff with a straight face.”

Now she was badmouthing them.

Had Alon been able, he'd have objected—What are you on about?—but sadly, his form remained unresponsive.

“They only act all clever around you to get attention! That horned brat? She waits for you to come out before pretending to bump into you by accident!”

Perhaps these smears ought to cease…

Right then, Ryanga's image popped into Alon's head.

In the sprawling marquis’ domain where encounters were rare, he invariably crossed paths with her after exiting his study.

So it was deliberate all along…

he mused vacantly.

Meantime, Seolrang ramped up her lively tirade against Ryanga and Historia’s “duplicitous” ways.

“Anyway! That’s why you have to play with me the most, Master!”

She giggled triumphantly, like claiming victory.

“So promise me, okay? When you wake up, you’ll play with me first.”

A quiver crept into her words, fighting off tears.

This carried a newfound weight, unlike prior chatter.

Alon vowed to deliver Seolrang his grandest head pat upon awakening.

Quiet hung heavy for a spell.

“Okay, I’m going now~!”

After a prolonged still sit, Seolrang perked up once more and hopped from the chamber.

Peace didn't endure.

“Hmph—”

Ryanga entered this round.

And—

“What are you breathing so hard for?”

Blue Ghost tagged along.

“Shut up.”

Ryanga snapped icily.

“I mean, why are you so tense when he’s unconscious?”

“Shut up. He might be conscious.”

“Then doesn’t that mean you shouldn’t be saying that to me right now? He’s hearing everything, you kno~ow?”

A sharp smack! rang out alongside Blue Ghost’s whine.

They'd materialized abruptly for their routine banter.

But briefly.

“Ahem. Chief, they said it’s good to tell you memories, so I came. Honestly, ours aren’t exactly the happiest ones, though.”

Ryanga chuckled uneasily.

A weight pressed on Alon's heart.

He recalled Ryanga’s history.

Their joint past stemmed from her darkest hours.

“So… it’s been a while.”

Yet brushing off the gloom, Ryanga steadily recounted their initial encounter.

The day Alon rescued her.

When she rallied comrades to flee Baarma.

As they dashed frantically, evading foes to reach home.

When tearful pleas for Baarma’s death met Alon’s mute nod, words failing him.

And then—

“Do you remember? You promised me back then… you said I looked pretty.”

…Alon? Calling her pretty?

Doubt surged within.

Had that truly occurred?

“But you said we’d talk about it properly once everything was over, remember?”

Ryanga pressed on, fueling Alon’s bewilderment.

He'd never uttered those words.

Impossible for him to have done so.

Though Ryanga seems like a full-grown adult these days, back in those times she was nothing but a little kid—barely reaching his waist.

Should he have truly spoken words like that back then…

However he examined it, pure calamity loomed ahead.

He ached to voice a strong denial, yet his body stubbornly wouldn't budge, drowning him in a helpless spin.

“D-Does it mean anything if you’re stuttering like that while talking?”

“W-What?!”

Blue Ghost, who had remained silent until then, abruptly tossed out a comment.

Shocked, Ryanga replied in bewilderment.

Blue Ghost released a drawn-out sigh.

“If you’re going to make something up, at least make it bold. What is this, a children’s fairy tale?”

Regrettably, Blue Ghost couldn't wrap up his words.

With a scornful click of his tongue, then—crash!—a deafening rumble shook everything, plunging the space into total quiet.

And thirty minutes later—

“Please… be a little more careful?”

“I-I’m sorry…”

Despite her airy tone, Alon could sense the frosty killing intent radiating from Yutia’s words.

Ryanga issued his apology(?), and silence once more filled the room.

Then, yet another day went by.

“Brother.”

“...Marquis.”

Deus and Radan were the ones stepping into the chamber.

Differing from the earlier guests, Deus recounted shared memories with Alon in a somewhat restrained voice.

Radan followed the same pattern.

Fearing they might invent tales like Ryanga's, Alon tuned in with unintended strain.

Thankfully, their tales consisted solely of authentic recollections.

The moment Alon breathed a sigh of relief—

“While you have been bedridden, the situation has slowly begun to stabilize.”

Deus suddenly switched from past stories to ongoing events.

This update was precisely what Alon craved, drawing his full focus.

From Deus's words, Alon swiftly grasped the current state of affairs.

The tidings Deus shared weren't particularly favorable from Alon's viewpoint.

Naturally, he had foreseen Ashtalon's downfall.

After Eliban slaughtered key nobles and the capital lay in ruins, it was obvious the kingdom couldn't persist as a legitimate realm.

The monsters, though, took him by surprise.

Deus's depiction indicated more than a mere surge—it seemed profoundly worse.

Alon yearned for deeper details on that front, but sadly, specifics remained scarce.

What reached his ears instead was—

“Marquis, as soon as you awaken, we will prepare a new statue in honor of the man who saved the Allied Kingdoms. After all, you love statues.”

Those were his exact words.

Alon thought, utterly perplexed.

Deus pressed on unyieldingly, as though determined to instill a passion for statues in Alon, unleashing an fervent oration lasting nearly half an hour before departing.

***

A few days following Deus and Radan's departure from the room—

In that span, with only his mind alert, Alon welcomed endless visitors.

Across those days, Alon piecemeal uncovered the true motives of everyone coming to see him.

For instance, Sili arrived first after their exit.

She announced, “I’ve completed all preparations for when you awaken,” and presented a fresh holy scripture called The Great Divine Epic, reciting it aloud to him.

Unsurprisingly, almost every part struck Alon as entirely foreign.

This sparked his doubt: did she sincerely hold those beliefs, or merely aim for Alon to embrace them?

Penia came next.

Upon entering, she assured Alon of his enduring deep affection and esteem for her.

Evan, meanwhile, boasted of slashing his entitled wages in half by choice.

Without hesitation, upon hearing it, Alon resolved to reduce Evan's pay to a mere quarter.

Figures such as Nangwon and Historia visited as well.

Nangwon softly reminisced and then withdrew.

Historia plainly stated, “Get well soon,” with direct simplicity.

And today—

As Alon's body achieved full recovery, with movement gradually resurfacing—

“You’re awake.”

That familiar voice led Alon to open his eyes on reflex.

Framed by the shadowed window, Rine stood smiling.

“How did you know?”

No outward cues escaped him, but she spotted it instantly.

Alon's astonished query drew a gentle chuckle from her.

“Hmm—intuition?”

“...Intuition?”

“Is that strange?”

“Coming from you, yes.”

With a soft smile, Rine offered the honest reply.

“The truth is, I already knew.”

“Knew… when I would wake up?”

“Yes. With fairly accurate timing, too. That’s why I’ve been waiting.”

“...Why?”

“Because I wanted to be the first face you saw.”

Her whimsical line, paired with a tranquil smile, coaxed a quiet laugh from Alon.

Curiosity prompted him to tilt his head faintly.

After all, mere days prior, Rine had informed others that Alon's awakening remained unpredictable.

“Godfather. May I ask you something?”

Rine voiced her query before Alon could pose his.

Alon nodded instinctively.

“What is it?”

“Between someone who acts with a clear conscience and someone who acts without one—who do you prefer more?”

She posed the question with composure.

Suddenly blindsided, Alon blinked at the unexpected inquiry.

“...Rine.”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t only know when I’d wake up, did you?”

He gazed deeply into her eyes.

Upon that—

“Who knows~?”

The smile that had remained constant on her lips grew even deeper.

A touch of playfulness now glimmered in it.

“In any case, welcome back, Godfather.”

To her greeting—

A natural smile surfaced on Alon’s face in reply.