Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 5
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Two years had flown by since Alon had saved all of the Five Great Sins, marking the fourth year of his secret correspondence with Yutia.
Only six years remained before the original plot was set to begin.
In the meantime, Count Palatio had passed away.
While the official report listed heart failure as the cause, anyone living within the estate or possessing half a brain knew the truth.
The Count had succumbed to a drug overdose.
It was a death perfectly suited for the gritty world of dark fantasy.
However, the Count’s passing was met with zero grief. The servants and retainers received the news with complete indifference.
This was hardly shocking; the Count had been a broken man for a long time, racing toward his grave through relentless substance abuse. Expecting any other result would have been foolish.
His life had been squandered on hedonism, women, and narcotics. Consequently, not a single noble bothered to send their condolences upon his passing.
His two surviving sons felt the same. Leo, the eldest, had foreseen this end long ago and remained cold.
Instead of grieving for his father, Leo was entirely consumed by his rivalry with the Blue Moon organization, spending his time plotting with his loyal retainers.
Alon shared this lack of emotion.
From the start, the Count had ignored the blatant bullying Alon suffered at the hands of his older brothers. In fact, Alon had never exchanged a single word with the Count since transmigrating into this body.
They were strangers sharing a bloodline.
Thus, the Count’s life ended in total silence, without a single tear shed in his memory.
A week later, the Palatio family refrained from appointing a successor, adhering to an old tradition that prohibited naming a new head during the same year the previous one died.
Not that it mattered much.
Ever since Alon arrived, the Count had been a useless figurehead, allowing the retainers to run the family affairs while embezzling funds.
And by this time, Alon...
“Young Master, I find this truly incredible.”
“What is it?”
“...Reaching the 2nd tier in just two years without the help of a master or the Magic Tower... is such talent even possible?”
Alon had been practicing magic as a means of survival.
He watched three tiny orbs of light rotate in his palm, then sighed softly and let them fade away.
Two years prior, Alon had been thrilled to discover his magical aptitude.
In the world of Psychedelia, magic was a privilege reserved only for those born with the right talent.
Alon’s talent, as it turned out, was quite formidable.
While a typical mage required four years to reach the 2nd tier, he had accomplished it in half that time entirely on his own. He wasn't exactly a god-tier genius, but he was certainly a rare prodigy who grew through natural instinct.
Alon himself realized that his precision in mana manipulation was far beyond the norm.
Levitating three electric spheres and forcing them into a precise orbit was a pointless parlor trick, yet it required the kind of delicate mana control that few could master.
However, this was why Alon viewed his talent as flawed. His innate Dantian, or mana core, was significantly smaller than average.
It wasn't just small; it was minuscule.
Even though Cultivation and training could expand a core, Alon’s was so unnaturally restricted that he had no hope for major growth.
A mana core was like one's height—a fixed trait determined at birth.
As Alon contemplated his limits, Evan spoke up.
“Young Master, what are your next steps?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, next year, the first son—I mean, the eldest young master—will officially take over the Sect and become the head, right?”
Evan had nearly called Leo a commoner out of habit but caught himself. Alon understood the underlying concern.
“I’m leaving.”
“...You’re abandoning the main estate?”
“Not entirely. I’m just moving to a lower-profile location.”
“A lower position... do you mean Rodmill?”
Alon nodded at Evan’s guess.
“Exactly.”
Rodmill was a village located roughly four days south of the capital of the Palatio territory. It was under their jurisdiction and was doing reasonably well.
“I intend to relocate there.”
“...But why?” Evan asked, confused.
Evan couldn't see the big picture, but this was the final phase of Alon's strategy.
His primary goal had always been to save the Five Great Sins, alter the timeline, and live a peaceful life as a wealthy noble in a world that hadn't been destroyed by war.
First, there was a private villa there belonging to the 3rd Count Palatio.
Second, the village was stable enough that Leo, the future Count, wouldn't bother with it before his eventual downfall.
Third, the four-day distance was enough to ensure Alon wouldn't get dragged into the protagonist's quest for justice once the main story kicked off.
Essentially, moving to Rodmill meant success for Alon's plan.
Too lazy to explain the complexities to Evan, he gave a vague answer.
“Everything happens in its own time.”
“...Young Master, you only say that when you’re avoiding an explanation.”
Alon ignored the comment.
“Since we’ve decided, let’s get packed.”
He began his preparations for the journey to Rodmill.
***
One month later.
Leo, the eldest Palatio son and the secret leader of the underworld group Avalon, watched from a balcony as his younger brother’s carriage departed with a single knight.
He was weighing whether or not to kill Alon.
To be honest, Leo never viewed Alon as a threat.
It had been that way since their childhood.
While their late brother Tonio had been a constant rival for the succession, Alon had always been a coward, keeping his head down and avoiding conflict.
Though Alon had shown some spine recently, his overall demeanor remained submissive.
By choosing to move to the countryside, Alon was effectively surrendering to Leo's authority.
“Hmm...”
Leo had originally considered arranging a "drug overdose" for Alon to match their father's death. However, since Alon was exiling himself to Rodmill, it seemed unnecessary.
Alon had stepped aside, showing no desire to be an enemy.
There was no logical reason to kill him anymore.
Yet, Leo still hesitated.
Ironically, his hesitation wasn't based on fear of Alon rising up later, nor was it out of disgust for Alon's weakness.
Leo felt no brotherly love for Alon—or anyone else in this family.
Ultimately, Leo was considering murder simply because Alon irritated him.
A month ago, when Alon had bowed and asked to leave for Rodmill, it had grated on Leo’s nerves. Perhaps it was because one of his Avalon branches had missed their quotas that day, putting him in a foul mood.
Regardless of the reason, Alon’s survival was currently a coin toss.
“Alman.”
“Yes.”
“Follow the carriage discreetly.”
In that moment, Alon’s fate was sealed. To Leo, Alon was a bug to be crushed on a whim.
But the subordinate who appeared behind him suddenly spoke.
“...Do you intend to kill him?”
“...?”
Leo was stunned. This young man had been a loyal tool for two years, passing every test. He was not the type to question orders.
Usually, Leo spoke and Hidan obeyed without a word.
“Do you think family ties matter to—”
Leo turned to correct what he thought was a lapse in judgment.
Stab!
“...?”
Instead of words, blood sprayed from Leo’s mouth.
He coughed up dark red liquid, his face twisted in disbelief as he struggled to understand the sudden pain.
Leo looked down and saw a blade buried deep in his chest, piercing his heart.
“B-betrayal—”
His eyes flared with fury, but the man holding the sword remained calm.
“This isn't betrayal. I was never your man to begin with.”
“W-what are you saying...?”
“I was simply waiting for you to give that specific order.”
With those words, Leo’s rage turned to sheer terror as Alon’s face flashed in his mind.
He couldn't comprehend it. Alman—no, Hidan—had been his right hand for over two years.
He had trusted Hidan to guard his back for over a year without suspicion. Hidan could have ended his life at any moment.
Leo stared at Hidan with wide, confused eyes as the man finally explained.
“We do not act without a command. We are merely that person's sword, moving only when swung. That is our law, the iron rule of the Red Moon. However—”
Crack!
“Gaah!”
“...When someone dares to threaten the Great Moon, our blades act on their own.”
Shlick!
“That is the only reason you were permitted to breathe until today.”
Leo collapsed into the dirt, his face hitting the ground. Even as he died, his eyes burned with a final, desperate anger.
“My... men... they will...”
“Do not worry. The second you gave that order, Avalon was marked for annihilation.”
Hidan, a member of the Blue Moon and one of Yutia’s elite, added coldly,
“...It’s a shame. The Great Moon actually gave you a chance.”
Hidan turned and vanished into the shadows.
Leo died moments later, never understanding the truth behind those words.
It was a cold, lonely end.
***
Three days after settling into Rodmill, Alon received an urgent summons back to the capital.
The news was shocking: Leo, the eldest son and heir, was dead.
Because of this mysterious death,
Alon—who had been peacefully toasting bread in his new home because he lacked servants—was forced to return to the estate immediately.
By the time he arrived, the people were already whispering a new title under their breath:
The Hidden Power of the Count’s Family.