Mastermind
Copyright© 2026 by FantasyTranslater
Chapter 5
Two years had passed since Alon rescued all the Five Great Sins, marking the fourth year since he began exchanging letters with Yutia.
There were now six years left until the start of the original story.
The Count Palatio was dead.
The official cause of death was heart failure.
However, anyone within the Count’s household or those well-informed would have easily known the real cause of death.
It was an overdose of drugs.
In a death fitting of a dark fantasy world, the Count Palatio had passed away.
However, no one mourned his death.
The servants and retainers accepted the news of his death with a sense of calm.
This was no surprise, given that the Count Palatio had been completely broken, running his last stretch toward death with rampant drug abuse. It would have been strange not to expect such an outcome.
Moreover, his life had been wasted in indulgence, consumed by women and drugs. Even after his death, not a single noble expressed condolences.
This also applied to his two remaining sons. The eldest son, Leo, had anticipated this outcome long ago and remained indifferent.
Rather than mourning his father’s death, Leo seemed more preoccupied with the ongoing conflict with the Blue Moon organization, constantly discussing it with the retainers loyal to him.
Alon felt the same.
From the beginning, his father had turned a blind eye as the eldest and second sons openly tormented him. Surprisingly, Alon had never spoken to the Count even once since he had taken over this body.
Their relationship was one of mutual indifference.
Thus, the Count’s death passed in silence, without a single tear shed, and quietly came to an end.
A week after the Count’s death, the Palatio family did not appoint a new head, following their long-standing tradition that no new head would be selected in the same year the previous one died.
Yet, nothing really changed.
Since the time Alon had taken over this body, the Count Palatio had done nothing, leaving the retainers to manage the family while they lined their pockets.
And at this point, Alon...
“Young Master, I must say, it’s truly astonishing.”
“Why?”
“ ... Reaching the 2nd tier in just two years without entering the Magic Tower or having a master ... do you think that’s a talent that makes sense?”
Alon had been learning magic for self-defense.
‘Though it’s only half-baked.’
Alon gazed at the three small spheres spinning in his palm before letting them dissipate with a light sigh.
‘It’s good that I have talent, but still... ‘
Two years ago, Alon had discovered his talent for magic and had been overjoyed.
In the world of Psychedelia, magic was something that could only be used if one had the necessary talent.
Moreover, Alon’s talent for magic was quite exceptional.
Considering that it typically took about four years for a mage to reach the 2nd tier, the fact that he had achieved it in just two years without a master was remarkable. While not exactly a heaven-sent prodigy, he was still a rare case of someone who had managed to become powerful through sheer natural talent.
Even Alon himself felt that his ability to control mana with precision was far superior to that of others.
What he had just done—levitating three electric spheres and making them orbit in his palm—was a useless trick, but it was a skill that could only be performed by those who could control their mana with extreme precision.
‘ ... If only my mana core was bigger.’
However, the reason Alon referred to his talent as “half-baked” lay here. His natural mana core was much smaller than average.
Not just small—a lot smaller.
Although it was possible to expand one’s mana core through continuous training, in Alon’s case, it was so unnaturally small that he had little hope of significant improvement.
A mana core is akin to one’s physical stature, something one is born with.
‘If it comes down to it, I do have a method, but... ‘
As Alon licked his lips and continued thinking, Evan asked,
“Young Master, what do you plan to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, next year, the first son—no, I mean, the eldest young master will become the head of the family, won’t he?”
Evan, having almost called him a commoner out of habit, quickly corrected himself. Alon understood what he was asking and replied,
“I’ll leave.”
“ ... You’re planning to leave the estate?”
“Not completely. Just to a lower position.”
“Lower ... do you mean to Rodmill?”
At Evan’s question, Alon nodded.
“That’s right.”
Rodmill.
Geographically, it was a village about four days’ travel south of Palion, the Count Palatio’s territory. It was under the Count’s control but was flourishing moderately.
“I plan to move there.”
“ ... Why?”
Evan asked, unable to understand.
Though Evan might not grasp the reasoning, this was the final step in Alon’s plan.
From the start, his goal had been to rescue the Five Great Sins from their misery, change the future, and live out his life comfortably as a noble in a world where the United Kingdoms weren’t destroyed.
‘In that regard, Rodmill is an excellent choice.’
First, there was a mansion there that belonged to the 3rd Count Palatio.
Second, the village was in a state of moderate growth, making it unlikely that Leo, who would soon become the Count, would pay much attention to it before his death.
Third, it was far enough from the Count’s estate—about four days’ travel—that Alon could remain uninvolved in the hero’s story of justice and retribution when the original plot began.
In short, as long as Alon moved to Rodmill, his plan would be successfully completed.
However, finding it bothersome to explain all this to Evan, he simply gave a brief response.