Became the Patron of Villains

After Alon’s rather lively birthday ended, three days passed since the strange incident in which an angry Seolrang had charged at Yutia, only to let out a squeak and crash face-first into the floor.

“Can you handle these documents—”

“Got it, brother.”

“And this one—”

“Oh, I’ll do it, Master!”

“What are you talking about? I was waiting first!”

“Huh? But I’m the one who got the paperwork!”

“You cut in line!”

For some reason, even though the birthday had long passed, the people who hadn’t gone home yet kept Alon’s house lively.

He looked at the scene in front of him.

A sheet of paper, stretched to the point of tearing.

Ryanga and Seolrang each held one end, glaring at each other with fire in their eyes.

Alon couldn’t help but sigh.

Seeing anyone other than Penia and Evan—who usually helped him with the paperwork—moving about in his office felt strange, and he couldn’t quite understand why these two were doing this.

Even after hearing Penia’s explanation, it still struck him as unusual. She said their behavior was extremely rare.

Before long, Alon discovered the cause of their strange behavior.

It seemed to stem from the title “Sister.”

To be exact, they wanted to be called “Sister” by Alon.

Naturally, Alon had no intention of calling anyone that.

Thirteen years ago, when he had lost his memory, every woman had seemed older than him, sure—

But even then, the thought of actually using that title felt terribly awkward.

When he first met Yutia, the word had slipped out instinctively, but now, being as old as he was, it felt far too embarrassing to deliberately call someone “Sister.”

Crash!

As he was thinking that, Ryanga and Seolrang stormed out noisily.

“For someone with a goal in mind, she’s not acting the part,” Penia muttered as she quietly joined the paperwork. Alon silently agreed.

With calm people like Magrina and Historia, the word “Sister” almost slipped out unconsciously.

But with Ryanga and Seolrang, not a chance—they were about as far from that image as possible.

“……Anyway, are we almost done?”

“Hmm—yes. Once we finish this batch, we’ll be done.”

“It’s impressive how much paperwork there is. Did the old me always deal with this murderous workload?”

Penia replied to his weary tone.

“No, not really. It wasn’t this bad before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was here too, and besides, Alexion handled most of the territory’s affairs himself.”

“Oh, that guy…”

In the game, that same man had lived a miserable life in the slums of Raksas—so why was he living such a diligent, salary-man life here?

That thought crossed his mind, and Alon nodded.

“Then why is there so much now?”

“Well, you’ve probably noticed while going through them, but there are a lot of matters related to ‘Divine Land’ and ‘diplomacy.’”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

Alon recalled the contents of the documents he’d processed so far.

She was right.

“‘Divine Land’ is still being managed by Sili, but we’re at the stage where we need to build a system that can function without her. That’s why the paperwork increased. And as for diplomacy—well, that’s because of the Divine Blood.”

“The Divine Blood…”

“Yes. There are more reports than actual requests for approval, right?”

“That’s true.”

Alon nodded.

Most of the diplomatic papers coming in now were reports—

And many of them didn’t look good.

“It seems the Divine Blood are starting to move in earnest. You’ve probably seen it in the reports—there haven’t been direct attacks yet, but unusual entities are appearing more frequently.”

“So it’s time to be cautious.”

“Exactly. That’s why there’s so much for you to check. These kinds of reports have to go through you directly.”

Penia pointed at the stack of reports that was already about two finger-joints thick.

Alon let out a quiet groan.

‘Better hurry.’

He pondered the timing deeply.

####

Three days later.

Those who had gathered at Alon’s house began to leave one by one.

“See you next time, Master!”

“Yeah.”

After seeing Seolrang off, Alon finished up a few papers and headed to the secondary office with Penia faster than usual.

Today was the day.

The day he would test whether the idea he had gotten from Yutia was actually useful.

“Phew—”

As Alon exhaled in the secondary office, Penia looked up from the papers and said,

“There’s no major issue with the spell formula.”

“So it all depends on whether I can actually manifest the magic properly, huh.”

“Pretty much. Of course, if our hypothesis is wrong, it might not work at all.”

Alon closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and conjured a sphere in his hand.

A small orb of mana—something any first-rank mage could create—flickered faintly with light.

—The chant exists to apply the law of magic, right? So why does it have to be spoken?

He recalled Yutia’s words.

The reason he’d been unable to find a proper improvement method until now was that he had always assumed the hand signs and incantations were mandatory.

Those enforced components inevitably lengthened the casting time.

Yet he couldn’t simply omit them—

Without them, he’d be just an “ordinary” mage.

Caught in that deadlock, he had reached no conclusion.

But Yutia’s advice had sparked something in him.

Her words had broadened the narrow perspective he’d been trapped in while seeking ways to “improve.”

“Fuu—”

At its core, Alon used hand signs and incantations for one reason: magical power.

But, looking deeper, the true reason was that they allowed him to connect with the laws engraved by the Divine Blood.

The power didn’t increase because of the hand signs or the words themselves—

It was because performing them brought him closer to those laws, granting his spells special properties.

In other words, the essence was simple.

Hand signs and incantations were merely tools to reach the law.

And what Alon intended to do now was—

‘Let’s try it.’

He was trying to change that “means.”

Staring at the glowing orb of mana hovering over his palm, Alon closed his eyes and began to gather mana again. What he was attempting now was a little different from any magic he had performed before.

This time, the spell he was creating was merely to produce a sound. A sound that resembled his own voice.

In other words, what he was about to test was whether he could replace speech itself—not by uttering words, but by using magic as the medium.

Calmly exhaling, Alon fine-tuned the spell. To make it sound as close to his own voice as possible, he had to constantly adjust multiple aspects in real time.

With his eyes closed and his focus absolute, Alon finally succeeded in creating a perfectly calibrated spell.

Refract.

With a faint crackle through the air, a subtle vibration rippled outward. Opening his eyes, Alon saw it.

“It looks like it worked?” Penia’s voice said beside him.

He looked down to see the small sphere resting in his hand, its surface trembling with tiny, tangled lines of light.

####

“The hypothesis has been proven,” Penia said after confirming the result. “So what’s your next step?”

“What do you mean exactly?” Alon asked.

“The direction of your research. Now that we know a spell can be activated simply by reproducing the syllables through magic instead of your mouth, are you planning to study how to embed those syllables directly into a spell?”

Alon nodded slightly.

“Of course, that’s worth researching. But I think it’s probably just one part of the process.”

“…One part of the process?” Penia tilted her head.

“If you can successfully compress an entire incantation into a single spell, wouldn’t that already mean you’ve solved the enhancement problem?”

“Well, that’s one way to see it.”

She wasn’t wrong. Their goal had been to minimize the time required to perform hand signs and incantations. And this new hypothesis could indeed resolve that issue at once.

“But that’s not what matters most right now.”

“…Not what matters?”

“The key point is that even if you change the means, the magic still works.”

It was true that part of his experiment was to confirm whether magic could serve as a substitute means. But that was only a byproduct.

What Alon truly wanted to confirm was the means itself.

Could magic manifest through something other than speech?

That was the essence of his test—and it had succeeded.

It signified one thing.

The method of reaching the Law was irrelevant.

Which meant—

“If the act of touching the Law matters more than how you reach it,” Alon said quietly, “then it doesn’t matter what means I use, as long as I reach it.”

“What do you—”

“The means can be changed freely.”

Penia froze for a moment, her face blank.

Then her eyes widened in sudden realization.

“No way…!”

Alon’s lips curved into a confident smile.

And at that same moment—

In the Kingdom of Fildagreen—

“My, you’re early,” Rine said softly. “Even Magrina hasn’t returned yet.”

“I had some business to take care of,” Yutia replied.

The two stood facing each other with polite smiles.

And within the shadow nearby—

Hidan trembled silently as he watched the scene unfold.

But the two women paid him no mind, gazing only at each other.

“So,” Rine said, “what business brought you here? You could’ve sent word for me to handle it.”

“Hmm—this is something I can manage on my own.”

“Ah, I see. You came to work and to tease me, is that it?”

Yutia smiled faintly. “Now what makes you think that, Rine?”

“You’re not really asking because you don’t know, are you?”

“Oh, you mean Lord’s birthday? I wasn’t teasing you about that. Why would I?”

“Really?”

“Of course. Whether you came to the party or not wouldn’t change much.”

“That sounds like teasing.”

“Oh my, does it?”

Though Yutia’s tone was mild and her words polite, something in the air hinted at hidden meaning—so much that Hidan instinctively crouched lower.

He could feel that just a few more exchanges and he’d need to run for his life.

But then—

“Well, if that’s how you want to play,” Rine said calmly, “I suppose I’ll have to tease you back.”

Contrary to Hidan’s fears, she didn’t look angry at all.

Her expression remained composed as she reached into her cloak and took something out.

And then—

[Yutia… Sister?]

At the sound of Marquis Palatio’s voice echoing from the stored magic orb, the gentle smile vanished from Yutia’s face.

“Well,” she said sweetly, “I was going to just hand it over, but now—”

Crack!

The orb in Rine’s hand split with a sharp sound.

“I suppose it’s my turn to have a little fun.”