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

A few fragmented lines—just a few—were all it took to piece together a terrifying truth.

And everything Anne was doing now only further confirmed that she was nothing like the harmless, loyal maid Muen had once believed her to be.

She was far more terrifying than he’d ever imagined.

“Don’t worry, Young Master. I won’t hurt you—at least, not for now,” Anne said gently. “As long as you behave and stay right here.”

“Behave and... stay here?”

“That’s right. Stay right here.”

A blissful light gleamed in her eyes.

“And be with me. Forever.”

“Forever? That’s not even—”

Muen understood exactly what she meant. And it was because he understood that he couldn’t accept it.

“You’re planning to keep me locked up for the rest of my life?”

“I don’t have a choice, either.”

Anne sighed, her expression briefly tinged with regret.

“If the plan had gone smoothly—if your body and soul had already belonged to me—I wouldn’t have had to go this far.

But the plan failed.”

“......”

“I don’t get it. I really don’t. For ten years, nothing ever went wrong. But all of a sudden, you just... changed.”

Anne widened her eyes, staring hard at Muen like she was trying to detect some crack in his mask.

“You’ve become brave. Driven. Humble. Courteous. You cared about a sick maid, you welcomed guests with grace, you spent entire days in the library you used to ignore completely.

Young Master... tell me. What made you change so suddenly?

Don’t tell me—you’re not really you anymore, are you?”

Muen’s heart skipped a beat.

His instincts screamed: if Anne ever learned that he wasn’t actually Muen Campbell... she would kill him.

So he forced a strained smile and said,

“Maybe... I just grew up. That’s how men are, right? One day, they just wake up and grow.”

“Is that so?”

Anne tilted her head.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You really are the Young Master—I’ve already confirmed that much.”

She licked her lips, like she was still savoring the taste of his skin.

“So since I couldn’t have your body and soul... I’ll settle for less.”

Her gaze bore into him, dark desires spilling forth like a tide of ink.

“At the very least, I’ll make sure your body stays with me.

Forever.”

...

...

“Let me go! You can’t do this—this is a crime!”

“I’m the Duke’s son, Anne! Do you understand what’ll happen if you get caught?!”

“Even if you take my body, you’ll never get my heart!”

Once Muen realized Anne truly planned to imprison him for life, he panicked—struggled with everything he had.

He shouted, threatened, bargained, even begged... ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) but Anne didn’t budge.

“Give up, Young Master. The moment you said you wanted to let me go, I gave up on your heart. So now, everything I do is just to claim your body—completely and eternally.”

“You think you can have my body?”

Muen, having exhausted every option, gave up pretending. His expression turned cold as he spat,

“Let me be blunt. For a sick, twisted woman like you, I couldn’t get aroused if you paid me!”

“Oh?”

Anne smiled faintly.

Then she stood up. Her smile faded. Her posture straightened. Her expression turned elegant and cold once more.

But her hands... began unbuttoning the front of her uniform.

One button. Then another.

And with a final pop—

Her pale, full chest, easily rivaling Celicia’s in scale, broke free like a beast released from its cage, spilling into Muen’s vision.

“Shit—”

Muen sucked in a sharp breath.

A maid.

Stripping, expressionless.

Dungeon. Shackles. Restraint play.

Too many elements. Too intense. No—infuriating.

Was this something a proper maid should be doing?!

“My, Young Master... it doesn’t seem like your body agrees with what your mouth is saying.”

Anne tilted her gaze down—then giggled.

She bent forward, slipped one foot out of her polished black leather shoes, lifted her skirt with both hands, and slowly raised that black-stocking-clad foot... toward a very particular spot on Muen’s body.

“Ugh...”

“How does that feel?”

“F-Feels—No! No! Fuck! I won’t give in!”

Yes, the scene was crazy arousing. Especially the black stockings. Muen never imagined that Anne had been hiding such a deadly weapon beneath her prim maid outfit.

A black-stockinged yandere maid. Who could survive that?!

But Muen clenched his jaw.

He refused to give in.

He’d already been pinned down by Celicia once—he would not let his dignity be trampled again!

“Say whatever you want! I’m not giving up that easily this time!”

“Taishang Laojun! Queen Mother of the West! Buddha! Jesus Christ in the flesh! Let it be done!”

“Shrink! Shrink! SHRINK!”

Muen squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at any of the devastating visuals. He started shouting strange incantations, anything to drown out Anne’s seductive voice.

Meanwhile, he desperately tried to imagine that spot being rubbed raw by overly tight underwear while running a kilometer during gym class.

Visual denial. Auditory denial. Sensory self-hypnosis.

...And it kind of worked?

“I underestimated your willpower, Young Master,” Anne murmured, eyes narrowing in displeasure as she felt the change beneath her foot.

“Looks like I’ll need to resort to... special measures.”

...What?

Special measures?

Curious—and horrified—Muen cracked one eye open.

And saw Anne reach down, into her very deep cleavage, and pull out two tiny, glimmering glass vials.

How the hell those bottles stayed in there without breaking was a mystery of physics and fabric tension.

But now was not the time to marvel at that.

Muen’s eyes locked onto one vial, filled with a red liquid that swirled like blood.

A very bad feeling crept up his spine.

That substance looked very familiar.

“Good thing I didn’t use it all last time,” Anne murmured, shaking the vial. The blood-red liquid shimmered inside, her smile turning victorious.

“Wait... is that Evil Dragon’s Blood?”

Muen asked through clenched teeth.

“My, I’m surprised you know that, Young Master.”

Anne nodded. “You’re exactly right. It’s a sleeping drug infused with Evil Dragon’s Blood. The same one I slipped into your red tea earlier.”

“And... and that one... that white one—don’t tell me that’s Serpentgrass Powder?”

Muen pointed to the other vial, his voice cracking.

“You know even that?”

Anne licked her lips, her gaze turning suggestive.

“In that case, you must know what I’m about to do.”

She swiftly mixed the red and white substances together. The result was a very ominous pink solution.

Then she brought the concoction close to Muen’s lips and whispered,

“Come now, Young Master—

Time for your medicine~”