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

This wasn’t the first time Celicia had encountered Muen. In fact, prior to the coming-of-age ceremony, the story had already progressed through an entire academic year at Saint Marica Academy.

During that year, though they’d been in different classes and years, Celicia had still occasionally heard tell of Muen Campbell’s... escapades.

Naturally, none of them were flattering.

And she’d had more than a few direct run-ins with him herself. Her conclusions had been perfectly aligned with the rumors: despicable morals, arrogant demeanor, utterly unmotivated. Even when addressing her—a princess—his nose practically pointed at the sky, exuding the air of a thoroughly spoiled and contemptible aristocratic brat.

But today... he seemed a little different?

“Is it just because he’s acting slightly more polite?”

She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

The only reason Muen warranted even a sliver of her attention was that infuriating status as her fiancé.

Aside from that, he wasn’t worth a second of her time.

“Your Highness Princess Celicia appears a bit weary from the journey. Would you like to step inside and rest a bit? The banquet won’t officially begin for some time.”

Just as Celicia was about to excuse herself, Muen made the offer—elegantly and with impeccable manners.

She blinked, caught off guard, her icy gaze once again flickering over Muen’s familiar face.

Since when was he so... considerate?

Back at the Academy, Muen had practically pestered her nonstop, to the point of becoming an outright nuisance.

She had fully expected the same headache this time around.

“...Very well. I’ll take you up on that.”

Celicia gave a small nod and followed the maid Muen had summoned, disappearing into one of the guest suites reserved for the nobility.

“Phew. Finally gone. She’s seriously terrifying.”

Watching her retreating figure vanish, Muen exhaled deeply.

His back was damp with sweat.

So that’s the pressure of the novel’s number one female lead, he thought, eyes wide.

Just standing in front of her felt like being stranded on a frozen tundra—an endless chill climbing up from the soles of his feet.

If she’s that cold from the outside alone... I don’t even want to imagine what “intimate contact” would feel like. Probably snap my balls off from frostbite...

—Muen thought wickedly.

But that wasn’t his problem anymore. He wasn’t here to fall in love or seal a real marriage. He just hoped his hand wouldn’t tremble when the time came to spike her drink.

As his thoughts wandered, the crowd around him suddenly stirred again.

Something new had caught their attention. Whispers spread quickly.

“She actually came? That illegitimate girl?”

“The one who fought a duel with her ex-fiancé recently?”

“Heard Count Bugarde just named her the heir.”

“Ugh, a bastard and a woman. What right does she have to inherit a noble title?”

“Who knows what Count Bugarde’s thinking...”

“Shh! The Count’s here too—careful what you say.”

Hearing the murmurs—voiced just low enough to avoid scandal—Muen’s nerves went taut.

His palms began to sweat again, more so than when he faced Celicia.

Because there was only one person who could provoke that kind of gossip.

Muen turned his gaze toward the new eye of the storm.

In a hall filled with finely dressed guests, she alone wore a plain dress. Her long black hair hung loose, unadorned. Gossip clung to her like gnats, but her expression brimmed with confidence, her lips curled into an unmistakable smirk.

Her beauty wasn’t as flawless as Celicia’s, but it was striking in its own way. Setting aside the fact that her chest was as flat as her back, she was undeniably attractive.

But no one should be fooled by her understated appearance amidst all these jeweled noble girls.

Because she was—

“Ariel Bugarde.”

The true protagonist of the original novel. The ultimate Feng Ao Tian who liked women and women only.

She had recently won a duel in broad daylight against the ex-fiancé who broke off their engagement three years ago, vaulting herself from bastard child to Count Bugarde’s primary heir. She’d slapped the faces of elders and onlookers alike, leaving jaws shattered all across the noble district.

From her backstory to her looks, from her presence to her victories—she was a main character down to the bone.

“Well, well, Lord Muen. We meet again. Been keeping out of trouble?”

Ariel approached with her trademark cocky smile, having to look up slightly due to the height difference, but showing none of the deference others did.

She didn’t bow. Her tone was casual—like speaking to an old friend.

But Muen knew full well that he and Ariel Bugarde were not friends.

She only spoke this way because she didn’t give a damn about his title as a duke’s son.

“You insolent wench! How dare you speak so rudely to Lord Muen—”

Naturally, a situation like this couldn’t go without the appearance of a hot-headed lackey, one whose purpose was to yell loudly so the protagonist could gracefully put him in his place.

Sure enough, a noble boy nearby puffed himself up, clearly hoping to curry favor with Muen. He didn’t wait for Muen’s cue and looked ready to shout Ariel down for daring to act so uppity.

Muen stopped him cold.

Absolutely not. No way he was letting someone stir up more hatred on his behalf [N O V E L I G H T] right now.

“I’ve been doing quite well, Miss Ariel Bugarde.”

Muen replied with a flawless smile, bowing with noble precision.

“I appreciate your concern.”

“...Huh?”

Ariel blinked as if she’d seen a ghost.

The delinquent young master who mocked her every time they met—was now speaking politely?

And he even called her by her full name?

Her full name!?

That pea-sized brain of his actually remembered her full name?!

“Either he’s matured... or he’s plotting something.”

Ariel rubbed her pale chin, eyes sweeping the area around Muen, half-expecting him to throw a wine glass in the air and summon two hundred assassins to chop her into mincemeat.

But Muen ignored her suspicious glare and shifted his gaze behind her—to the unassuming girl who had entered with her.

Big.

Really big.

Mountainously, absurdly, cartoonishly big.

That was the first thought that popped into Muen’s head.

The girl was the polar opposite of Ariel. Her tightly stretched dress looked like it was losing a war against the pressure of her chest, to the point that her delicate and sweet face almost got overshadowed by the sheer mass in front.

“Hello, Miss Lia,” Muen greeted with a warm smile.

“Eh? Lord Muen knows my name?” the girl blinked, clearly surprised.

“Of course. How could I not know the name of tonight’s honored guest?”

Muen’s etiquette remained impeccable, leaving Lia looking a bit flustered and unsure how to respond.

Of course, this wasn’t just about being polite.

It was also because of who this girl really was.

Lia Angel. Childhood friend of the protagonist.

On the surface, she was just the daughter of a baron—nothing impressive.

But in truth, Lia was one of the candidate saintesses for the Church of Life. She was currently undergoing a “worldly trial,” which is why she concealed her status and traveled beside Ariel.

Naturally, as someone by the protagonist’s side, it would surprise no one when she was later revealed to be the true Saintess. And a saintess ranked far higher in status than a mere duke’s son like Muen.

“Muen Campbell—what do you think you’re doing?”

Ariel stepped protectively in front of Lia, her phoenix eyes narrowing into blades.

“I’m warning you—don’t you dare pull anything with Lia!”

“Perish the thought. I was merely greeting her.”

“And who the hell would believe that?”

“Well, if you don’t, then I suppose there’s nothing I can do.”

Muen gave a helpless shrug and—ever so considerately—gestured toward the guest wing.

“Ladies, why don’t you head inside? It’s cold out here. Wouldn’t want two beauties to freeze.”

“You—”

Ariel’s eyes widened, speechless.

Then she shivered, grabbed Lia’s hand, and stomped toward the hall—grumbling under her breath as she went:

“Disgusting peacock...”