The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

”System? You there?”

”...”

”Old master?”

”...”

”Goddess?”

”...”

”Kyubey?”

”...”

”Pikachu?”

”...”

”Anyone at all—can’t someone just answer me?!”

Muen had called out every cheat-supporting figure he could think of, but was met with nothing but silence. Covering his face, he nearly cried.

”Don’t tell me I really don’t get a cheat?”

Other transmigrators get cheats, beauties, skills, magical weapons—you name it. The protagonist’s life is a speedrun to level 99 with no grinding required. They hit the peak of existence with minimal effort and a harem of white-rich-beautiful girls chasing after them.

But him?

Not only did he get a catastrophic opening, but he didn’t even get a single cheat or power-up.

”Oh, come on, I only pulled one lucky ten-roll and hit five golds! Even if I spent my lifespan to get it, I didn’t deserve this!”

”Right... those blessings are for the protagonist, not for someone like me.”

Muen sighed as a hard truth set in.

He wasn’t the protagonist.

He was the yellow-haired early-game villain.

Still, there was no way in hell he was going to go through with drugging Celicia like in the original plot. He might be panicking, but he wasn’t stupid enough to light that particular powder keg.

His strategy now could be summed up in one word:

Survive. (Or in Chinese webnovel slang: ”gou” 苟 — stay under the radar and don’t die.)

”I wonder if I apologize to the protagonist tomorrow, maybe she’ll forgive me. Worst case, I’ll just... make a sacrifice or two, as long as she doesn’t ask for anything too crazy.”

Muen clenched his teeth, firm in his resolve. Even if she demanded he lick her boots as a condition for forgiveness, he would... go along with it.

It’s not like licking a pretty girl’s foot is that hard.

...As long as she was wearing black stockings, that is.

”Yeah! That’s the plan!”

Muen pumped his fist with determination.

Now that he’d made up his mind, all that was left—

”AH!”

A sudden cry burst from Muen as something heavy smacked into the back of his head.

”What the hell?!”

Clutching his skull, he looked down to see the culprit.

A book.

A pitch-black book.

”...What the hell is this?”

Muen frowned. For some reason, the book gave him an eerie sense of familiarity.

Like it was something deeply important.

Yet, in both sets of memories—his original life and this one—he’d never seen it before.

And more importantly... he looked around.

The room was sealed shut. Doors locked, windows closed. Where the hell had it come from?

”...Don’t tell me—”

His eyes lit up.

”Is this... my cheat?!”

The book was pure black. No title, no designs. So dark, in fact, that staring at it too long felt like it could suck your soul in.

”Looks like Heaven hasn’t completely abandoned me after all...”

Muen was genuinely moved. On the verge of tears.

A cheat! A real cheat!

With this, even a wage slave like me could kick a Feng Ao Tian protagonist in the face! Punch ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) destiny in the gut!

Fate? What’s that?

Ever heard of ‘I control my fate, not the heavens’?

There was just one problem...

How does it work?

He stared at the blank cover, confused.

No beginner’s tutorial?

Maybe it held some invincible cultivation technique that could make him god-tier overnight? 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Swallowing hard, Muen opened the book with trembling hands, filled with anticipation.

Inside...

Nothing.

”What the hell?”

”Is this one of those blank heavenly tomes?”

”Or maybe... maybe it needs some kind of special trigger?”

He turned the book over, shook it, flipped the pages again—still blank.

”Hah... don’t tell me I need to drip blood on it like in those clichés...”

As if responding to his joke, a sudden warmth trickled down his forehead.

A drop of bright red blood flowed from where the book had hit him earlier—

—and landed perfectly in the center of the open page.

FWOOOSH.

The black book shuddered violently, pages fluttering like a beast awoken by the scent of blood.

A terrifying suction force erupted from it.

Muen’s blood suddenly gushed from his scalp like a fountain, pouring into the book.

”The hell’s going on?!”

Before he could make sense of the horrifying scene, darkness swallowed his vision, and he lost consciousness.

Drip.

Drip.

A dark space.

Flowing liquid.

Freezing air.

And... someone?

Who’s there...?

[Ah~ You’re finally awake. I’ve been waiting for so, so long.]

The voice was like rusted iron scraping together, laced with static. Genderless. Distorted.

[Shall we begin again?]

Begin?

Begin what?

A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness.

An unknown light hit their face—but it was distorted, blurred like a mosaic. Nothing was clear.

[This makes four hundred seventy-two. Truly, you are impressive.]

Four hundred seventy-two... what?

The figure stepped closer.

In their hand—something gleamed.

A thin, delicate blade. Sharp as a whisper.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Something was flowing.

Blood.

A lot of blood.

Streaming endlessly from four hundred seventy-two wounds.

Each one burned to the bone.

[Ah... my heart aches so much right now.]

The figure bowed their head, tears glittering as they mixed with the blood on their face.

[I love you so, so, so, so much. But why... why did you—]

[You weren’t supposed to change. You were supposed to be evil. Cruel. Selfish. You were supposed to make others suffer. Not forgive. Not be kind.]

[Only then... only then would you belong to me alone.]

[But now you’ve changed. And that... I cannot allow.]

[You see, if your heart strays—then I have no choice. I’ll have to purify you with my love.]

[Don’t worry. I have... so, so much love to give.]

The knife traced his skin.

Each stroke left a crimson mark that would never fade.

The whispers were endless, overflowing with twisted love and hate, buzzing in his ears like bees.

The shadow leaned in, bringing with them the scent of blood and flowers.

”What... was that?”

Muen’s eyes flew open. He gasped for breath, drenched in cold sweat, face pale as a sheet.

He felt like he’d just escaped from the lowest level of hell.

”A dream?”

He was back in his room. No shadow, no blades, no horror.

Just him.

It had to be a dream.

But why that dream? What triggered it?

His gaze dropped to the black book still in his hands.

Confused, shaken, Muen stared at it, rubbing the cover gently.

”...It felt too real to be just a dream.”