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

“Don’t worry,” the shopkeeper said, noticing Muen’s hesitation. “Sure, the color’s a little eye-catching—but mix it into red wine and no one will suspect a thing.”

They spoke patiently, even reassuringly.

“And compared to its one tiny flaw, this little potion has very big advantages. Just a single drop, and even an elephant would collapse in a heap.”

Muen’s eyes lit up. “That strong?”

“Of course! You get what you pay for. I run a modest business—but I never cheat my customers.”

The shopkeeper puffed themselves up a little, then extended an absurdly delicate, pale hand in front of both Muen and the other cloaked customer.

“That’ll be 130,000 Amils. No haggling, no tabs. Thanks for your understanding!”

“One hundred and thirty thou...”

Muen’s eye twitched slightly.

Amil was the standard currency of this world, and from what he’d figured out so far, its value was roughly equal to the RMB from his previous life.

So of course he realized: all that “modest business, fair to all” nonsense was complete bullshit. Who the hell charges 130K for one bottle of knockout drug?

...But lucky for him, he was still a powerful duke’s son. A little 130K was nothing.

“Card or cash?” the shopkeeper asked, rubbing their hands with excitement. Two gullible customers in one day? An absolute windfall.

“Card.”

Muen casually tossed over his crystal card. At his level, the encryption and privacy features were top-tier. He wasn’t worried about getting doxxed.

“Excellent~”

The shopkeeper quickly scanned the card, pocketing the 130K with ease, then grabbed another ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) small bottle off a nearby shelf and handed it over with both hands, card included.

“Take care now, young master. Here’s a little gift from me, too.”

“A gift?” Muen raised an eyebrow.

“Heehee. Gotta keep some mystery alive, don’t I? But I would recommend using it with the sleeping drug. The effects are... magical.”

Magical effects?

Does it boost the potency or something?

Muen frowned. He didn’t know much about alchemy or magic potions, but it didn’t seem suspicious enough to worry about. He shoved both vials into his coat and turned to leave.

Meanwhile, the shopkeeper turned toward the other customer.

“And you, dear guest? Card or cash?”

“I don’t have enough Amils. And I don’t intend to pay in Amils, either.”

The voice was calm, but the words themselves were incredibly dangerous. Even Muen paused mid-step, glancing back curiously.

No way. Is someone actually trying to rob a shop in broad daylight—even here, in the underground market?

“Oh?” The shopkeeper’s tone chilled slightly. A subtle frost leaked from beneath the hood.

“You mean to say...”

“I don’t have money,” said the cloaked figure, “but I can offer information.”

“130K is no small sum.”

“This intel is worth far more than that.”

The stranger handed over a slip of paper. “To the right buyer, it could be worth millions.”

“Oh?”

Muen couldn’t see the shopkeeper’s face, but he could imagine the curious eyebrow raise as they unfolded the note.

Interesting.

They scanned it quickly.

And in that moment, the air itself felt like it froze.

“Well, well. This is something.”

The shopkeeper looked up at the cloaked figure, and for the first time, there was a weight behind their voice.

“You’re sure this is real?”

“With your abilities, you can verify it easily.”

“...How trusting of you. But yes. This is worth 130K.”

The shopkeeper tossed a vial across the counter. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The figure caught it silently and turned without another word, vanishing into the alley with cold, mechanical efficiency.

Muen hadn’t even fully processed what happened. His eyes lingered on the now-folded slip of paper.

What kind of intel could be worth that much?

“Oh? Are you interested too, young master?” The shopkeeper noticed and smiled sweetly. “Since we’re basically old friends by now, I can give you a discount.”

They held up nine elegant fingers.

“Ninety thousand?”

“Heehee. Oh, you really are funny, young master.”

They paused, then added:

“Ninety thousand would put me out of business.”

“Ninety... what.”

“Ninety million Amils.”

“...”

Muen’s eye twitched again.

He turned without a word and walked out.

Selling mystery drugs for 130K, then trying to flip recycled intel for 90 million?

Yep. Total con artist.

“Well, well...”

Even after Muen left, the shopkeeper’s eyes lingered on the scrap of paper.

The hood had long since slipped off, revealing willowy brows like willow leaves in the wind, lifted in amusement.

“Tomorrow was supposed to just be the coming-of-age banquet for that useless Campbell brat.”

“But now... if I spread this around, things might get interesting.”

“Now then. Who to sell it to first?”

“The Second Prince wouldn’t be a bad start. He’s always resented his ‘perfect’ sister. Two million wouldn’t be asking too much from him.”

“And that old bastard, Duke Raymond, would definitely pay a fortune too.”

“Two sales, one intel drop... I really am a wicked little thing, aren’t I?”

The shopkeeper propped their chin in one hand, a flirtatious smile curling on their lips.

“After all... it’s not like information has to be sold to just one buyer, right?”

Back at the Campbell estate—

“Lord Muen.”

Muen had just returned when he ran into Anne, who’d been rushing around on errands.

“How’d things go with the maids?”

“All handled. The head maid will stay up tonight recruiting more, and the assignments have been shuffled. Staffing tomorrow shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I know it was tight timing—thank you for handling it.”

“No, it was our poor planning that caused the issue to begin with. I apologize for the trouble.”

“No need for that,” Muen waved a hand. “I was just doing my job.”

“Please try to rest early, then. Tomorrow will be busy.”

“But I still need to assist you this evening—”

“No need. I’m not a child—I don’t need someone babysitting me. And I’ll be turning in early too.”

He gave her no chance to object, turning and heading toward his room.

Tonight, he needed to be alone.

This was a sin he had chosen to bear alone—no reason to drag someone innocent into it.

“...?”

Anne stood frozen in the hallway, watching his back retreat into the shadows.

That strange, unreadable look in her eyes only deepened.

“So strange,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Absentmindedly, she bit her lip as she pondered.

Only when the taste of blood touched her tongue—and a drop stained her pristine maid uniform—did she stir.

Even then, her eyes never left the direction Muen had gone.

“When... did Lord Muen become so gentle?”