Became the Patron of Villains

Desert City, Colony.

“Ha…”

Seolrang’s secretary, Lime, let out a quiet sigh.

Lately, unsettling incidents had been occurring in Colony all too often.

She stood on one of the highest floors of the towering guild building and cast her gaze northward.

As always, the dunes piled high in golden waves formed a breathtaking vista—yet that was not where her eyes lingered.

Not on the sand.

But further beyond.

Instead of gold, the land was now blanketed in a deep, ominous purple.

A grotesque aberration born not long after stars had rained from the sky.

Ever since that phenomenon, the air in Colony had felt heavy, tense.

And now, because of one Babayaga, the atmosphere had grown even darker.

The “Scorching Hand,” who had left confidently to investigate the anomaly after becoming a Babayaga, had now been missing for over a week.

In this desert, disappearing for more than seven days meant only one thing.

Death.

But that wasn’t all.

The true weight pressing down on Colony—the reason the entire city seemed frozen—was this:

Carmaxes III, the current king of Colony.

Despite the confirmed death of a Babayaga.

Despite the creeping spread of the violet corruption approaching the city itself.

He had issued no orders.

None at all.

As if observing the crisis with detached indifference.

And it wasn’t just this matter.

The kingdom hadn’t responded to any of the other escalating incidents inside Colony either.

It was behavior utterly out of character for the Carmaxes III she had always known.

Lime sighed again, more deeply this time.

Because, inevitably, her thoughts drifted to Seolrang.

‘What on earth is Lady Seolrang doing at a time like this…?’

Her gaze shifted toward the corner of the office.

The spot where Seolrang would normally be sprawled out lazily was empty today.

‘Lady Seolrang hasn’t been herself either… Is she truly alright?’

Worry clouded Lime’s eyes.

Because recently, Seolrang didn’t seem well at all.

To be more precise—she had changed, subtly at first, after the final battle that took place just before the Milky Way poured from the sky months ago.

In the beginning, the change was small.

She simply spoke a little less.

Spent slightly more time deep in thought.

But as days passed, those shifts grew darker.

She stopped talking altogether.

She would remain motionless for long stretches, lost in thought.

And the light that once lived in her face had dimmed beneath an unseen shadow.

‘…I heard that when she was with the Marquis, she seemed like her usual self.’

Lime recalled the information she had heard quietly through the Information Guild.

‘So what’s really going on with her…?’

She stared at the empty seat and slipped into deep silence once more.

That was when—

“Deputy Guildmaster!!”

A voice erupted, shattering the stillness as someone burst through the door.

‘How many times have I told them to knock—’

Lime began to scold the intruder with a scowl, but the words stopped in her throat.

The guild member who had entered looked pale and grave.

“You need to come downstairs. Now.”

Without hesitation, Lime followed the man to the first floor.

When they arrived at a sealed, private room guaranteeing full confidentiality—

“P-Prince…?”

“Oh— long time no see…”

She found herself face-to-face with Colony’s Second Prince.

Covered in wounds from head to toe—Karsem.

And in that same moment.

Inside a cavern west of Colony—

“Hah… Hah…”

Seolrang was slumped on the ground, gasping for breath.

Completely spent, her clouded, exhausted eyes drifted down to the object resting before her.

The Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe.

The very same essence Alon had entrusted to her long ago.

The one whose trials she had failed to complete—

The source of power she still had not fully inherited.

[Do you intend to attempt the trial again?]

She stared at it blankly for a long time.

Then, silently, she reached for it—when a voice interrupted.

She turned her head.

A black dragon stood there.

Its dark eyes examined her carefully.

Her sclera already stained black, like that of a demon, from the power she had accepted.

“…Why?” she asked.

[Let me make this clear. If you push yourself any further, your body won’t endure it.]

She flinched.

She already knew that.

Even so—she couldn’t stop now.

Because she had finally recognized the truth.

That she was weak.

That she couldn’t even protect the ones she treasured most.

That she was… falling behind.

Memories of countless battles flashed through her mind.

Alongside them—the faces of her comrades.

Her Master.

And within those memories, herself.

Not protecting anyone.

But being protected.

She tightened her jaw and reached out again.

Her hand closed around the essence.

Weakly.

Unsteadily.

####

The day after Alon had spoken with the divine blood—true origin of Goddess Sironia—

“My Lord.”

“Yutia.”

He met her again.

“Have you been well?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to come sooner, but things got a little hectic. I ended up being a day late.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t waiting that long to begin with.”

“A day is still a long time, isn’t it?”

“That much is easy to wait through.”

Alon’s prompt, unwavering answer made Yutia’s eyes widen for a moment in surprise, but she quickly smiled again.

Her smile drew a slightly longer arc than before.

“I’m truly glad to hear you say that. Let’s go inside and continue talking, My Lord.”

“Very well.”

As Yutia guided Alon toward the study, a puzzled look crossed her face.

“But where are the others?”

“You mean Evan and Penia?”

“Yes.”

“Evan stepped out for a moment, and Penia said she had something to discuss with a wizard at Rosario, so she went as well.”

When he mentioned he would meet with Yutia, both Blackie and Basiliora had hurried off to join  Penia and Evan eagerly, but Alon didn’t mention that and followed Yutia into the study.

As soon as they arrived, the first thing he noticed was the desk, arranged as neatly as always.

And on that desk sat a crystal orb.

It looked beaten up—cracked and chipped in several places.

A question mark popped into Alon’s mind.

“Is something the matter, My Lord?”

“Uh—”

“That?”

“Wasn’t there an orb right there a moment ago?”

“An orb?”

“Yes, that slightly shattered… worn orb.”

The very orb he was sure he had just seen—now suddenly, as if it had never been there, had vanished without a trace.

Alon felt a flush of bewilderment rise, but—

“Oh my, is that so?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t recall seeing such a thing.”

“Really?”

“Please, have a seat, My Lord.”

Yutia said nonchalantly, and Alon sat down, still puzzled.

After sharing a brief update, Alon sensed their small talk was winding down.

This meant he could finally ask Yutia the question that had been on his mind.

But even then, Alon hesitated once more.

Was it proper to ask Yutia about Abominable Blood?

Of course, his intent was merely a question—nothing weighty, just a simple inquiry.

Still, his instincts whispered that asking might change something, and he paused briefly over that thought.

“Yutia, may I ask you one thing?”

“Yes, what would you like to know?”

Alon opened his mouth at last.

After all, waiting until Yutia returned had been for this very reason.

“Do you happen to know anything about Abominable Blood?”

Alon’s calm voice echoed through the study.

The instant Alon’s question fell into the air, Yutia’s expression shifted subtly.

Did she know of Abominable Blood, or was she simply thinking over the word?

Or perhaps she was thinking of something else entirely—silent for a beat, she asked,

“Which aspect are you referring to?”

Yutia’s face gave nothing away, so Alon hesitated a moment before answering.

“Somehow I heard mention of Abominable Blood.”

At that, Yutia made an hmm sound and tilted her head several times in thought.

“Strictly speaking—”

Then, as if to dismiss it, she added,

“I suppose it’s fair to say I know of it.”

“You know of it?”

“Yes, though not in full.”

“…Not in full?”

“Yes, what I know about Abominable Blood comes from information I recently heard from Rine.”

Yutia spent a while recounting to Alon what had happened not long ago.

“So you were researching divine blood and found information about Abominable Blood as well… is that right?”

“That’s correct. But as I said, I don’t have much detailed information. Just—”

Yutia frowned slightly, as if dredging up a vague memory, then answered,

“Abominable Blood—was originally divine blood, perhaps?”

“Abominable Blood was originally divine blood?”

“Yes.”

“Is that true?”

“That’s what I heard from Rine.”

“Did you hear anything beyond that?”

“Hm, nothing else, but I can ask Rine and report back.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Alon nodded, feeling a small measure of relief that Yutia didn’t know much about Abominable Blood.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt relieved, even to himself.

Anyway, Alon suddenly remembered another thing.

When he had lost his memory, Yutia had given him advice as if she already understood his worries—without him saying a word.

“Yutia.”

“Yes?”

“May I ask one more thing?”

“For any question from you, My Lord, I will answer.”

Alon began to speak again, but—

Thud—!

“Marquis! So you were here after all—!”

Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short as Evan burst in, flustered.

Panting, Evan cried urgently,

“Marquis, there’s a crisis!”

“What happened?”

“The divine blood have all risen at once—war has broken out! Colony is among the worst hit!!”

Alon blurted, bewildered,

“What did you say?”

Alon’s eyes widened for a breath, and Yutia’s smiling eyes narrowed for a moment.

Alon then composed himself and asked, outwardly calm,

“When did this report come in?”

“This morning… sir!”

‘Could it be—but Seolrang?’

“For now, the reports suggest she’s all right…”

After a brief exchange, Alon looked at Yutia.

“Yutia.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I suppose we’ll have to continue this another time.”

“Understood. Are you leaving immediately?”

“I think we must.”

“I’ll follow as soon as my urgent matters are done, My Lord.”

“Good. The rest we will discuss… afterward.”

With a short farewell, Alon dashed out with Evan.

Their hurried footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Yutia alone in the study.

“Hmm.”

Yutia’s serious expression returned to its previous calm as if whatever worry had passed like smoke.

Then, in the silence—

“…Abominable Blood—Abominable Blood, huh.”

She murmured to herself.

“Who would be speaking of it this time…?”

Yutia whispered, wearing a deep, knowing smile.