Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 345 : ???? Years Old (3)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
On the evening when Lady Miren from the Padrima Ducal House arrived for her interview.
“Here you go, Brother.”
Alon took the book handed to him by Nangwon.
The volume appeared ancient, bound in dark leather.
He accepted it silently and voiced his appreciation.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble at all, Brother. I couldn't track down the very first edition.”
As Nangwon rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin, Alon shook his head gently.
Without Nangwon's help, he wouldn't have uncovered even a tiny hint, much less the Jewel of the Closed-Eyed One.
“No, without your efforts, I wouldn't have even gotten this book.”
“Hearing Brother think so highly of me fills me with real joy.”
Alon showed his thanks once more, and Nangwon's eyes sparkled with feeling as he flashed a wide smile.
“You'll likely want to dive into the book's details, so I'll head out now.”
“Leaving so soon?”
“Yeah, I've got some matters to attend to.”
Matters to attend to?
Alon nearly inquired but restrained himself, just giving a nod.
Beyond his odd inverted eyes, Nangwon looked like a young lad, yet he led an information guild.
He must have plenty of duties demanding his attention.
“Got it.”
“Summon me whenever you require help!”
Still wearing that heartfelt look, Nangwon departed.
As Alon observed him leave, a peculiar sensation stirred beneath his stoic features.
Such an idea flickered through his thoughts.
He resolved to express thanks more frequently, giving his head a slight shake.
Next, he flipped open the book he held and started perusing its pages.
Some time passed.
“My lord, what are you up to?”
Alon's eyes shifted toward Evan's voice.
“Reading.”
“Oh, that? The Jewel of the Closed-Eyed One, isn't it?”
“How did you know?”
“Nangwon mentioned delivering it today. So, discover anything?”
At Evan's query, Alon completed the final page and shut the book.
“I did, though it's somewhat vague.”
“How so?”
Alon glanced at the tome.
Despite its considerable thickness, few parts remained clear.
Numerous pages had faded to a yellowish hue, rendering them illegible.
Yet that hardly signified.
The details he needed lay within.
The issue concerned the jewel's whereabouts.
“The Jewel of the Closed-Eyed One was given to his most trusted companion.”
“His companion?”
The companion of the Closed-Eyed One.
“I can see why my lord finds this puzzling.”
“Can't you?”
“Indeed.”
After pondering briefly, Evan continued.
“The Closed-Eyed One aligned with Sin, didn't he?”
“Correct.”
“So if it was his companion… might it be Sin as well?”
Alon emitted a contemplative sound.
He had obtained valuable insights, but extracting further details proved challenging.
Nevertheless, he chose to dispel the gloomy mood.
For now, he possessed a starting point.
A path forward in the hunt for the jewel.
“The companion of the Closed-Eyed One…”
Alon whispered softly.
***
The following day.
“Phew—”
After laboring without pause from dawn through the afternoon in his study, Alexion at last wrapped up his work and exhaled heavily.
He retrieved the appraisal form stowed in his desk.
This was the review of Lady Miren from the Padrima Ducal House, interviewed the prior day.
“Hmm~”
Alexion rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Unlike earlier evaluations where his views weren't fully captured, this one rang true and varied.
Though the ratings fluctuated, Miren met the standards Alexion anticipated.
Put differently, she qualified as a potential match the marquis might select.
Yes, at minimum by the figures.
Alexion remembered Miren from the session.
Every movement, gesture, and stride exuded aristocratic poise.
Her speech carried elegance.
Her erudition impressed, even accounting for her ducal lineage.
“The interview itself offered no grounds for deductions.”
Still, Alexion's expression soured.
The cause lay in the gossip.
Certainly, in his role, he could dismiss it.
His directive was merely to assess.
However, he approached every assignment with utmost diligence.
...
Admittedly, certain candidates defied full scrutiny, but those involved dire necessities.
“Ahem—”
Regardless.
Alexion subtly commissioned the guild to probe Miren's history.
Surprisingly, the information network delivered findings in under twenty-four hours.
“No, less than that even.”
The inquiry went out the night before.
By morning light, the dossier reached him.
Indicating mere hours elapsed.
“The guild operates swiftly as ever, but… not this swiftly.”
Even with prior records, they typically required a full day to disclose.
Regular clients understood this.
Hence, the pace astonished.
“And providing such volume…?”
Alexion drew out the leftover documents from the drawer.
Scores of sheets, brimming with tales about Lady Miren.
And none were favorable.
“Hmm~”
Naturally, he recognized gossip's unreliability.
But the guild compiled this themselves.
His order specified fact-based rumors.
The network adhered rigidly to requests.
Thus, the contents he held probably bore truth.
Consequently.
As Alexion grappled with this realization.
“?”
“Lord Alexion?”
“The lady you met yesterday wishes an audience.”
“Lady Miren, you say?”
“Precisely.”
“Alright. Her location?”
“She's waiting in the salon.”
“Fine, I'll proceed there.”
Perplexed by the aide's report, he cocked his head before standing and heading to the parlor.
There awaited Lady Miren.
…
A notably drained noblewoman.
The stark shift, in just one day, jolted him briefly.
Yet Alexion promptly offered a bow.
“Good day, Lady Miren. Did you rest soundly?”
A basic pleasantry.
But once more, unease crept in.
No response echoed back.
Raising his head in bewilderment, he noted her eyes fixed downward from the start.
…
Having voiced his unreturned salute.
“…sorry…”
A barely audible whisper reached him.
So faint it could escape notice without attention.
“What was that?”
Flustered, Alexion advanced, protocol forgotten.
And then—
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean to I’m sorry for blasphemy I’m sorry for blasphemy I’m sorry for blasphemy I’m sorry I’m sorry ahhh—!”
“Wha—!”
Her tone escalated.
Then, as if seized by terror's grip, Lady Miren fled the salon.
Alexion stood rooted, gaping at the flung-wide entrance.
“…What… was that about?”
Later, once his racing pulse steadied.
“…She wants to pull out of candidacy?”
“Affirmative. Her attendant relayed it.”
“Did an incident occur at the estate yesterday?”
The aide had abruptly informed him.
Alexion probed warily.
“As noted before, my lord, she sent away our personnel claiming discomfort. Details remain unknown.”
“True…”
The aide's words yielded no insights.
His suspicions lingered, as expected.
From Alexion's standpoint, shedding a problematic contender wasn't wholly unwelcome.
But the crux was the sudden descent into distress and her choice.
Having puzzled over it repeatedly, Alexion abruptly looked aside.
…
Familiar figures came into view—Sili, Yutia, and Rine strolling past.
They caught his stare, glancing up with gentle smiles.
A innocent expression.
Nothing else.
Quickly, they dipped their heads and vanished from sight.
That concluded the scene.
Yet—
For some reason, Alexion sensed the motive behind Lady Miren's retreat.
A chill sweat slid along his spine.
***
Three weeks afterward.
The Palatio Marquisate hosted numerous visitors still.
Yutia Bloodia lingered on the guise of church building.
Seolrang relaxed under holiday pretext.
Each other had their excuses for staying.
Thus, early on, chaos erupted biennially.
Such as Seolrang hauled away by Yutia.
Or a blood-red moon abruptly looming over the domain nocturnally.
Or Alon’s statue mysteriously gaining embellishments over time.
However, now these upheavals resembled everyday occurrences.
Concurrently, the Marquis’s mate choice concluded.
With ten prospects assembled overall, Alexion remarked,
“This concludes it?”
“Indeed. I'll outline briefly.”
Finally, he passed the assessment forms to Alon and cleared his throat.
The documents lacked his personal insights yet, though he planned annotations.
Thus, Alexion prepared to deliver his rehearsed remarks—
“…!”
But words failed him.
The cause—
“Hic—”
Beyond the pane, marquis facing away, myriad gazes locked on Alexion.
Their looks held no malice.
All bore smiles.
…
The trouble: solely their lips curved upward.
Then, as the marquis casually reviewed the forms, his initial comment emerged.
“…… eight?”
And thus.
The choosing of Alon’s companion commenced.