Chapter 3 - Becoming the Mastermind of the Count’s House (3)

In Psychedelia, House Palladio appeared as a textbook example of side-quest villains, disappearing once they had served as experience points for the protagonist.

In game terms, they were merely extras. Alon knew so much about the house because he had completed its associated side quests many times. Those quests paid out quite handsomely in experience.

In short, they were nothing more or less than extras whose sole purpose was to give the protagonist experience points.

But that was only how they looked in a game. For Alon, to whom this place was now reality rather than a game, things felt quite different.

The game had glossed over the house with a brief description: “They deal in prostitution and drugs and operate an organization called Avalon.” Now he had seen that description with his own eyes, even if only in fragments.

... In fact, he was witnessing it in real time even now.

“...”

Alon shifted his gaze toward the front. There lay the body of the recently deceased Tonio, stretched out inside a coffin.

'The cause of death was... an accidental fall, huh.'

It was an absurdly anticlimactic end for a major figure who had sold drugs throughout the kingdom. Naturally, though, Alon knew Tonio had not died from an accidental fall.

No—in fact, it would have been strange for anyone present not to know.

“...”

Alon turned to look beside him. Leo, House Palladio’s eldest son, stood with his head bowed and a very broad smile on his face. He had spent quite some time locked in a covert struggle with Tonio to become head of the house.

'His mouth’s going to split open.'

He did not even seem interested in hiding it anymore, judging by his failure to keep his expression under control. Anyone looking at him could have guessed that Tonio’s death had been no accident.

Yet although everyone clearly knew, not a single person voiced an objection to Leo.

Neither the knights nor the retainers said a word to the eldest son—not even Aldimore, the current head of House Palladio.

'Well, he’s so far gone on drugs and whores that he probably couldn’t care less whether his sons are fucking each other over.'

Alon gave a quiet, incredulous chuckle as he looked at the count, who kept narcotic herbs and a woman at his side even during Tonio’s funeral, as though dignity no longer concerned him in the slightest.

'A dark fantasy through and through. This family is a fucking mess.'

Of course, that did not mean Alon intended to do anything in particular.

His plan was already progressing steadily without any special intervention on his part. The only problem with it was the Five Great Sins.

'I need to find the others soon.'

With that thought, Alon watched the final stage of the funeral unfold. Just as Tonio’s coffin was about to be closed, a question crossed his mind.

“Hmm...?”

'... Was Tonio supposed to have been murdered like this...?'

Only Leo appeared during House Palladio’s episode in the game, so Tonio’s death was something Alon could have readily predicted.

What made him question it now, however, was something Leo had said while the protagonist was teaching him a lesson.

'... I’m sure there was a scene where Leo wailed about spending years going through hell before finally killing him and securing his position as heir.'

Alon had played through the game many times, not just once or twice. Besides, the face of the man smiling beside him now had looked rather comical during that desperate scene.

'Hmm...'

That was why Leo’s end had stuck in his memory. Alon tilted his head, but ultimately gave a light shrug.

He was not particularly curious anyway.

####

A few days after Tonio’s funeral, the previously tumultuous House Palladio became astonishingly peaceful following the second son’s death.

The struggle over the succession had ended.

Of course, the count still had his third son, Alon, besides his now-deceased second son. But no one thought the house would descend into turmoil again.

Everyone knew Alon had no power whatsoever, unlike Tonio, who had joined forces with the Organization and sold drugs in vast quantities, giving him the strength to oppose the eldest son.

Even Leo, who was extremely sensitive about the succession, seemed entirely unconcerned where Alon was involved. He paid him no attention at all.

Instead, he seemed much busier swallowing up the drug business Tonio had left behind.

At any rate, now that peace had come to the house in this fashion, Alon was reading a letter from Yutia.

“Hmm.”

They had been exchanging letters for almost a year now, and this one, as always, was little different from the previous ones.

It concerned the orphanage, mentioning that several of the children were growing up very well. It also included a few details about Deus, whom he had sent there previously.

'He’s growing up well, wanting for nothing...'

Alon smiled in satisfaction at the brief line in Yutia’s letter.

Perhaps because he had told her Deus was a little unwell and asked her to take extra care of him when he sent the boy, she always included a short update about Deus in her letters.

'... When we talk through letters like this, she really seems like nothing more than Nice Country Girl A.'

He wondered whether he should go visit her, but soon shook his head lightly and continued reading.

As he reached the end of the letter, he suddenly spoke.

“Evan.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“... Do orphanages usually receive many donations?”

“Hmm, usually... Well, I imagine they do receive some, but probably not very many.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Alon had asked about donations because of the list of donors at the end of the letter.

'... Was it three months ago? No, four?'

Curiously, someone else had begun contributing to the orphanage he supported.

Of course, the letter only offered information along the lines of “A merchant named Malano kindly made a donation,” so he had no idea exactly how much had been given.

'Five people supported the orphanage this month, including me...'

He looked at the letter with an odd expression, but soon dismissed the matter.

'Well, the more donations they get, the better.'

Alon wrote a reply offering a few suitable responses to Yutia’s news, then handed it to Evan.

“Shall I deliver it personally again?”

“No. Didn’t you already go a few months ago?”

“I believe it was three months ago.”

“What... did you say it was like then?”

“If you mean the orphanage, I believe I reported that it was running well. Deus, whom I took there previously, also seemed much improved.”

“Really?”

Alon nodded, looking pleased at Evan’s answer.

'Just as I thought. Even the Five Great Sins couldn’t have been the Five Great Sins from the start. It’s good to know the children seem to be growing up properly. They must have turned out that way because they were raised in surroundings that drove them to kill people.'

Once again realizing just how important a person’s upbringing was, Alon added,

“There’s no need to go yourself this time. Just have someone from the Mercenary Guild do it.”

“Understood—ah.”

Evan nodded in acknowledgment and was about to leave when he spoke again, as though something had occurred to him.

“And about that matter you mentioned before...”

“What matter?”

“The ancient book.”

“... Did you find it?”

“I’m not certain, but I did find a lead.”

“Tell me.”

At Alon’s prompting, Evan carefully laid out the information he had obtained from the Information Guild.

“... Found it.”

Alon had finally located the third Sin.

####

Margot, a viscount’s domain beside a small village in the eastern Kingdom of Asteria, was known for its beautiful glasswork.

But that was merely its outward specialty. What actually made money for House Margot was drugs.

More precisely, its principal source of income was the generous money slipped to the viscount’s house by an organization called Pallan, which used Margot as a distribution hub.

Having chosen Margot as its distribution hub, Pallan had steadily expanded its power. It was now growing into a massive organization with hundreds of members, each of its executives commanding more than ten Experts.

That was why Roton, Pallan’s boss, believed the organization would grow much larger still. Like the other executives, he had reached the rank of Expert despite being a mercenary.

... At least, he had believed that until yesterday.

“...”

Roton looked around in fear.

Before him lay dozens of corpses drenched in red blood, along with the few surviving members of his organization, screaming frantically.

“Ugh, p-please spare me! Spare me!!”

“Please—please—!”

“Aaaaaagh!!”

“Ugh...”

Roton stared at his men, his gaze trembling.

Normally, the surviving members should have felt like a dependable shield. However much weaker they were than him, their sheer numbers alone had been enough to give him a sense of security.

Yet now, looking at them filled him with fear.

“U-ugh...”

Every surviving member was holding his sword in a reverse grip, pointing it at his own throat.

“No! No, don’t! No, no, no—!”

“Aaaaaaagh—!!”

“Stop, stop—please stop! Please... please!!”

Their faces were filled with desperate pleading, every last one of them.

Regardless, their bodies moved with perfect ease as they pushed the swords held in their reverse grips into their throats.

“Gack—”

The final dozen or so members died by their own hands.

And then—

“!”

Roton’s body began moving of its own accord.

“N-no...!”

His hand shifted the sword he held into a reverse grip.

“P-please—!”

No matter how desperately he tried to stop, his body, once seized, no longer obeyed him. It merely trembled.

In that final moment—

“!”

Roton saw them: purple pupils staring straight at him from within the pitch-black hideout.

But the moment he saw them—

SHUNK!

Roton had already driven his sword into his own throat.

THUD.

With that, Deus, who had been standing in the darkness moments before, silently stepped forward and walked out.

“Well done.”

Yutia, who had been with him, likewise stepped forward and followed him out.

“Is there any point in killing these men?”

Deus asked as Yutia emerged, as though he had been waiting for her. Unlike a year ago, there was a clear light of reason in his eyes.

“Do you pity them?”

“No. I know they’re grinding up humans to make drugs.”

“Then?”

“... I’m simply asking whether going out of our way to kill them helps us kill those goddamn bastards.”

Yutia smiled at his question.

“Of course.”

Her answer was unequivocal.

“This is the foundation for preparing a place for his return.”

TAP.

As she continued speaking, a pattern began forming beneath her feet.

Inscribed in the magic circle was an enormous eye with a crescent moon inside it.

“When he comes here in person, we can’t have the place looking shabby, can we?”

“... I understand.”

Looking at the pattern beneath her feet, Deus seemed to have grasped her intent already. He nodded without saying anything further.

“All shall be as he wills.”

Murmuring those words they had repeated hundreds upon hundreds of times, the two finished the pattern beneath their feet and vanished into the darkness.

And so, no one remained in Pallan’s hideout.