Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 380 : A Birthday Without Memories (5)

Behind his impassive façade, Alon harbored a gnawing discomfort as he regarded Magrina.

Her visage was adorned with a graceful smile.

Her bearing was equally composed.

In essence.

She presented no indication of deception.

It was as though Alon had indeed addressed her by that very name in the past.

A flicker of self-loathing coursed through Alon upon this realization.

The culprit, he surmised, was none other than Seolrang.

Though he hadn't had the opportunity to broach the subject earlier, the sight of the marriage certificate Seolrang presented ignited a suspicion that their connection might have run deeper than he initially perceived.

Penia's explanation, naturally, had omitted any such details.

As an outsider, she would be unaware of any potential occurrences between Alon and Seolrang.

Consequently, any nuances of their past that eluded Penia would remain unaddressed.

Had Penia and Evan been present, they would likely have rebuked him, exclaiming, "My lord, cease this nonsensical talk!"

Regrettably, no one was at hand to dispel his burgeoning doubts.

In such a predicament.

Magrina's utterance had deeply unsettled Alon.

Her words were so forthright that any listener would infer a clandestine affair between the two.

And when piecing together the events thus far with a clear head, the inescapable conclusion was chilling.

Thirteen years hence, within the city of Palatio—Alon.

He was apparently engaged in a deception, juggling a relationship with Seolrang, the Baba Yaga of Colony, and Magrina, the resplendent Elf Queen.

His mind was a tempest of utter bewilderment.

Then, Alon's senses finally returned.

His preoccupation with this supposed romantic entanglement had momentarily eclipsed a critical oversight.

Upon reflection, one detail seemed particularly incongruous.

That peculiar crystal storage sphere.

From Alon's perspective, at least.

If he and Magrina had indeed shared such a history, that item would have been an ill omen.

However, Alon found himself unable to inquire about her possession of the storage sphere.

What if his question revealed his memory loss?

And what if—

Perhaps—it was merely a pretense?

Once more, a wave of self-contempt washed over Alon.

He resolved that following this encounter, he would most certainly seek clarification from Penia or Evan regarding the entirety of this affair.

After a prolonged period of introspection, his voice finally broke the silence.

"Indeed, I was momentarily disoriented. My esteemed Magrina."

Even as the words left his lips, his hands clenched in a gesture of embarrassment.

But the instant he met her gaze, Alon's expression solidified in shock.

Magrina, who moments before had appeared so serene, now sported a face flushed crimson, as if on the verge of combustion.

"Then... Magrina?"

As Alon inquired with bewilderment, Magrina remained silent for a beat, then—

"Hiccup—"

A startled hiccup escaped her, and she abruptly sprang to her feet, exclaiming—

"E-excuse me for but a moment!"

—and fled the office without a backward glance.

An immediate and profound silence descended upon the room.

Alon gazed, stupefied, at the doorway through which she had vanished.

"Did they not say she was unremarkable...?"

A look of utter bewilderment crossed his face at the recollection.

Naturally, with Magrina's failure to return after her hasty declaration of "but a moment!", an atmosphere of awkwardness lingered.

Alon's attention then fell upon the bag she had left resting on her chair.

"That's the very one she carried in earlier."

Recalling the initial scene, he reached out to retrieve the bag, which teetered precariously on the edge of the seat.

Rustle—

A cascade of crystal storage spheres tumbled from within.

"...They mentioned she wasn't odd..."

A sigh of dejection escaped Alon, an involuntary reaction.

***

"Hmm, it appears she's discerned the truth."

"Has she?"

"Indeed."

Upon Penia's return from attending to certain matters, Alon recounted the unfolding events, leading her to reach this immediate conclusion.

"How could she possibly have realized?"

"I cannot say for certain, but it seems they are already aware you have lost your memory. Based on my knowledge, neither Seolrang nor Magrina actually share such a connection with you."

"Not... that kind of association?"

"Precisely."

"Is there no possibility of something you are unaware of?"

Yet, Penia simply fixed Alon with a gaze and firmly negated the possibility.

"No. I do not believe so."

"You are positive."

"The likelihood is exceedingly slim—no, virtually nonexistent."

"I comprehend."

A peculiar blend of relief and hollowness settled within Alon upon hearing her definitive statement.

Confirming the absence of such a relationship had indeed brought him a sense of ease.

However, its blunt dismissal left him feeling strangely vacant.

"So, it seems I failed to form any romantic ties with a woman over the past thirteen years."

At his quiet observation, Penia regarded him with an unusual expression.

"Why do you look at me in that manner?"

"Oh, no, it's just... how should I phrase it... In a peculiar way, that's quite remarkable?"

"Remarkable how?"

"The fact that you can still utter such things, considering the circumstances..."

"Well, that's because I retain no memory of it."

Penia, her expression inscrutable, murmured softly, "This does not appear to be a simple matter of memory loss, however..."

She then continued,

"In any event, from all indications, there is no longer any necessity for you to feign amnesia."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, your deception has been uncovered, rendering further pretense futile. Moreover, judging by today's events... it appears all the individuals who were meant to arrive are already privy to the situation."

"You imply their conduct was markedly different from the norm."

"Not so much different as..."

It felt as though they had been anticipating this very moment, as if their long-awaited desire had finally been fulfilled.

This was Penia’s impression.

However, she chose to keep this thought to herself.

“Just hold on for a little while longer, for now.”

Then, while Alon was deep in contemplation, he voiced a question.

“Is something the matter?”

“I’ve just become aware of a complication.”

“A complication of what nature?”

“…Do you recall what I mentioned previously? Regarding Seolrang and the marriage registration form.”

“Ah…!”

A soft utterance escaped Penia’s lips, as if a related realization had just dawned upon her as well.

But this moment of insight was fleeting.

Soon, her usual composure returned, and she began to organize the documents scattered across her desk.

“Well… you needn’t fret excessively about that particular issue.”

“…Not worry?”

“Indeed.”

“But if Seolrang were to take that marriage document and return to Colony, wouldn’t that effectively mean I’m married before I even comprehend it?”

“I highly doubt such a scenario will unfold.”

“And why is that…?”

Unable to grasp her reasoning, Alon inquired once more.

In response, Penia offered a small, self-deprecating smile and directed her gaze out the window.

“…Because it’s probable she’ll be dismembered before she even manages to depart from this estate…”

Her words faded into the air with a gentle cadence.

And precisely as Alon was preparing to question the meaning behind her statement—

Beyond the grounds of the Marquis of Palatio’s estate—

Yutia and Seolrang stood confronting each other.

***

When Seolrang received word from Magrina the previous day that Alon had suffered memory loss, and subsequently began formulating her intricate plans, she hadn’t harbored significant expectations.

Certainly, she desired to secure that marriage registration’s signature—yet, in the depths of her heart, she recognized it as an undertaking bordering on the impossible.

Even if the circumstances this time were more favorable.

She hadn’t genuinely held out hope for a successful outcome.

This conviction stemmed from her certainty that some form of intervention was inevitable.

Consequently, Seolrang approached Alon with a spirit remarkably unburdened.

Lightly, she presented the marriage form.

Lightly, she obtained his signature.

And lightly, she departed.

Seolrang gazed down at the marriage registration form clutched in her hand.

Its acquisition had been so effortless that it almost felt hollow— “So it genuinely transpired?” she mused, somewhat bewildered.

It was only after she had withdrawn from the Marquis’s residence that the reality of having secured his signature fully registered in her mind.

Unconsciously, the corners of her lips curved into a smile of profound satisfaction.

Yes, she had managed it—

And the reason this triumphant smile was now a memory of the past was due to—

“Yutia.”

“Seolrang.”

The presence of Yutia.

Despite Seolrang’s careful, stealthy departure, born from her knowledge of the need for caution—Yutia was positioned there, obstructing her path, as if she had been lying in wait all along.

With Yutia blocking her way, Seolrang understood the futility of attempting to safeguard the marriage form.

Thus, her initial approach was to attempt a negotiation.

“Permit me to pass, Yutia.”

“Hm? I never stated I was impeding your progress.”

“Truly!? Then I am free to leave?”

“Naturally.”

Yutia affirmed with a gentle nod and a smile.

Seolrang returned the smile—

“However, you must leave that document behind.”

“Ugh…”

Upon hearing Yutia’s subsequent declaration, Seolrang’s face contorted with a sense of despair.

Yutia, who had been observing her intently, suddenly—

“Pfft—”

—erupted into a soft peal of laughter and proclaimed,

“I am merely jesting.”

“…Eh?”

Seolrang’s eyes widened in confusion, blinking with bewilderment.

Yet, Yutia maintained her smile as she continued,

“I have no genuine intention of preventing your departure.”

“R-really? You won’t confiscate it from me either?”

“Absolutely not.”

She nodded once more.

Despite these assurances, Seolrang couldn’t shake a sense of suspicion as she glanced at Yutia.

Yutia’s expression remained remarkably placid, unchanged.

“Well? Are you not departing?”

“Th-then I shall be taking my leave…?”

“Proceed.”

“Am I truly leaving?”

“Yes.”

Yutia confirmed for a final time.

Seolrang remained utterly perplexed by Yutia’s inner thoughts, her motivations, her true sentiments—nothing was discernible.

Consequently, she remained frozen for a moment, her gaze vacant.

Crackle—!

Seizing that opportune instant, she dissolved into a streak of golden light, vanishing from sight.

As she witnessed Seolrang’s swift disappearance, Yutia’s smile widened.

It was a smile imbued with a profound, unspoken meaning.

***

Following Seolrang's rapid escape from Yutia's presence, and as the late afternoon began to cast its lengthening shadows—

To articulate the situation plainly—

Alon encountered Ryanga.

Upon seeing her, he couldn’t suppress a sense of captivated interest.

In contrast to Magrina, Ryanga was an individual he had indeed met on multiple occasions within Psychedelia, recognized as one of the Four Great Powers.

Furthermore, given Alon’s prior familiarity with Ryanga’s disposition from his experiences within the game, he found it both peculiar and intriguing that she could engage in a coherent conversation with him.

However, the aspect that Alon found the most challenging to acclimatize to was—

“Why, Chief?”

“No, it’s simply that—”

—the fact that Ryanga was seated upon his lap.

“W-well, we used to do this quite frequently when it was just the two of us, didn’t we?”

She uttered this with a stammer, her response faltering as she noticed his steady gaze upon her.

Naturally, Alon could instantly discern the untruthfulness of her statement.

Unlike the others, Ryanga’s presence on his lap felt fundamentally incongruous, out of place.

Her face was suffused with a vibrant crimson hue, appearing on the verge of combustion.

“C-come on, p-pet my head… l-like you normally do…”

She didn't cease her entreaties there—she even explicitly requested him to stroke her head.

Alon hesitated, uncertain of the appropriate course of action.

He then cautiously raised his hand.

At that precise juncture—

“Good grief—”

Penia expelled a heavy sigh as she stepped into the office.

“I conducted a brief inquiry, and it appears our suspicions were correct—the entirety of the public is already aware of the Marquis’s memory lapse. Therefore, all the events that transpired today were likely merely attempts to exploit this situation—”

And then, her gaze fell upon the scene.

Ryanga, nestled on Alon’s lap, her face comically red.

“…You persist with this, I see.”

The moment Penia uttered these words with a vacant expression—The office was engulfed in a profound quiet. It was a silence that pressed down, heavy and absolute.