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.
Count Palatio was dead.
Officially, the cause was listed as heart failure.
However, anyone living within the estate or possessing even a shred of intuition knew the truth behind his passing.
It was a fatal drug overdose.
Count Palatio had met an end perfectly suited for a dark fantasy setting.
Yet, his departure was met with zero mourning.
The retainers and servants received the news of his passing with total indifference.
This was hardly shocking, considering the Count had been a broken shell of a man, sprinting toward his grave through relentless substance abuse. Expecting any other result would have been foolish.
His life had been squandered on hedonism, buried under a mountain of drugs and women. Even among the nobility, not a single peer offered their condolences after he died.
His two surviving sons felt the same lack of grief. Leo, the eldest, had foreseen this long ago and remained completely unmoved.
Instead of grieving for his father, Leo was entirely absorbed in his conflict with the Blue Moon organization, spending his time strategizing with his loyal followers.
Alon shared this cold sentiment.
From the start, the Count had done nothing while the first and second sons openly bullied Alon. Remarkably, Alon had never exchanged a single word with the Count since he first occupied this body.
They were strangers linked only by blood and mutual apathy.
Thus, the Count’s death was a silent affair, concluding without a single tear being shed.
A week later, the Palatio family refrained from naming a successor, adhering to an old tradition that forbade appointing a new head in the same year the previous one died.
But in reality, nothing changed.
Ever since Alon arrived, the Count had been a useless figurehead, allowing corrupt retainers to run the household while they filled their own pockets.
And by this time, Alon…
“Young Master, I find this truly incredible.”
“Why is that?”
“…Reaching the 2nd tier in only two years without a master or the resources of the Magic Tower… does that kind of talent even make sense?”
Alon had been practicing magic primarily for his own safety.
Alon watched three tiny orbs of light rotate above his hand before dispersing them with a soft sigh.
Two years prior, Alon had been thrilled to discover his aptitude for magic.
In the world of Psychedelia, magic was a privilege reserved only for those born with the specific talent to wield it.
Furthermore, Alon’s gift was quite remarkable.
Since it usually takes a mage four years to reach the 2nd tier, achieving it in half that time while being self-taught was staggering. He wasn't exactly a god-tier genius, but he was certainly a rare specimen who gained power through raw, natural ability.
Even Alon recognized that his precision in mana manipulation was far beyond the norm.
The act of making three electric spheres orbit his palm was a trivial parlor trick, yet it required the kind of delicate mana control that few possessed.
However, this was also why Alon considered his talent "incomplete." His innate Dantian—his mana core—was significantly smaller than average.
It wasn't just slightly undersized; it was miniscule.
While one can expand a mana core through persistent Cultivation, Alon’s was so unnaturally tiny that there was little hope for meaningful growth.
A mana core is like one's height; it is a fixed trait determined at birth.
As Alon fell into thought, Evan spoke up.
“Young Master, what are your future plans?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, next year, the first son—I mean, the eldest young master—will officially become the head of the family, won't he?”
Evan had almost called Leo a commoner out of habit but caught himself. Alon understood the underlying concern and answered simply.
“I am leaving.”
“…You intend to abandon the estate?”
“Not entirely. I’m just moving to a lower-profile location.”
“Lower… do you mean Rodmill?”
Alon nodded at Evan’s guess.
“Exactly.”
Rodmill.
It was a village situated about four days' journey south of Palion, the heart of the Palatio territory. It was a moderately prosperous place under the family's jurisdiction.
“I intend to relocate there.”
“…But why?”
Evan asked, visibly confused.
Though Evan couldn't see the logic, this was the final move in Alon’s grand strategy.
His goal from the beginning was to save the Five Great Sins, alter the timeline, and enjoy a peaceful life as a nobleman in a world where the United Kingdoms remained standing.
First, there was a residence there that belonged to the 3rd Count Palatio.
Second, the village’s growth was steady but unremarkable, meaning Leo—the future Count—would likely ignore it until his eventual downfall.
Third, the four-day distance from the main estate ensured Alon would be far away from the "hero’s journey" and the chaos of the original plot.
Essentially, moving to Rodmill meant his plan was a success.
However, explaining all this to Evan was too much work, so he gave a vague reply.
“Everything happens in its own time.”
“…Young Master, you always say that when you’re hiding something.”
Alon ignored the comment and stood up.
“Since we’ve decided, let’s begin packing.”
He started making arrangements for the move to Rodmill.
***
Exactly one month later.
Leo, the eldest son and the secret leader of the underworld organization Avalon, watched from a distance as his younger brother boarded a carriage. Accompanied by a single knight, Alon departed the estate.
Leo was weighing a choice.
Should he kill Alon or let him live?
Truthfully, Leo never viewed Alon as a legitimate threat.
It had been that way since their childhood.
While the deceased Tonio had been a constant rival for the succession, Alon had always been a coward, keeping his head down and avoiding conflict.
He had changed slightly in recent years, but his submissive nature remained the same.
Even now, Alon was voluntarily exiling himself to the countryside just to stay out of Leo’s way.
“Hmm…”
Leo had originally intended to have Alon "accidentally" overdose on drugs alongside their father. But since Alon was leaving for Rodmill of his own accord, there seemed to be no point in the extra effort.
Alon had surrendered the path to power and showed no signs of rebellion.
The necessity to kill him had vanished.
Yet, Leo still hesitated.
Ironically, there was no logical reason for his doubt.
He wasn't afraid Alon would build an army in the outskirts.
Nor did he find Alon’s weakness particularly offensive.
In reality, Leo felt no brotherly love for Alon—or anyone else in the Palatio bloodline.
Ultimately, Leo was considering murder simply because Alon irritated him.
A month ago, when Alon had bowed his head and asked to go to Rodmill, it had grated on Leo’s nerves for some reason.
Perhaps it was just because a branch of Avalon had missed its quotas that day, putting him in a foul mood.
Regardless of the reason, Alon’s life was currently a coin flip.
“Alman.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Follow that carriage quietly.”
In that moment, Alon’s fate was sealed.
To Leo, Alon was a bug he could crush whenever he felt like it.
He gave the order with cold indifference.
But the man standing behind him suddenly spoke up.
“…Do you intend to have him killed?”
“…?”
Leo felt a flash of confusion.
Two years ago, this young man had proved his worth and risen to become one of Leo’s most trusted enforcers. He was not the type to question his master.
Usually, when Leo gave a command, it was executed without a word.
“Do you honestly think family ties matter to—”
Leo began to speak, frowning as he prepared to dismiss what he thought was a moment of hesitation.
Stab!
“…?”
Words were replaced by a spray of blood.
Leo coughed up crimson fluid, his face twisted in pure shock as he tried to process the sensation in his chest.
He looked down, his mind reeling.
A blade had been driven straight through his heart.
“B-betrayal—”
Rage flared in his eyes, but the man who held the sword remained calm.
“This is not betrayal. I was never your servant to begin with.”
“W-what are you…?”
“I was simply waiting for you to give that specific order.”
With those words, Leo’s expression of fury shifted to one of sheer terror as a single image flashed in his mind.
The face of Alon, his "weak" younger brother.
But it still made no sense.
Alman—or rather, Hidan—had been his right hand for two years.
He had trusted Hidan completely, letting him guard his back for over a year without a second thought.
Hidan could have ended his life at any moment during that time.
As Leo’s eyes filled with confusion, Hidan finally provided an answer.
“We do not act without a command. We are merely the blades of that person, moving only when swung. This is our doctrine, the absolute law of the Red Moon. However—”
Crack!
“Gaah!”
“…When someone dares to threaten the Great Moon, our blades move of their own volition.”
Shlick!
“That is the only reason you were permitted to breathe until today.”
Leo slumped to the ground, his face hitting the dirt. Even as his life ebbed away, his eyes burned with a final, desperate anger.
“My… men… they will find—”
“Do not worry. The moment you issued that order, Avalon was marked for total annihilation.”
Hidan, a member of the Blue Moon and a direct subordinate of Yutia, looked down at the dying man.
“…It is a shame. The Great Moon actually gave you a chance.”
With those final words, Hidan turned and vanished.
Leo never understood the meaning of those words before he died.
It was a cold, lonely end.
***
Three days after arriving in Rodmill, Alon received an urgent summons back to the Palatio estate.
The news was staggering: Leo, the eldest son, was dead.
Following this inexplicable tragedy,
Alon—who had been peacefully toasting bread in a quiet corner of his new home—was dragged back to the capital.
By the time he arrived, the people were already whispering a new title under their breath:
The Hidden Power of the Count’s Family.