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

“So this is the taste of power? How delightful.”

In the dark alleys at the edge of the Lower City, Muen walked with a light step, casually playing with the metallic container in his hand, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

If he calculated carefully, this whole black market trip—aside from tipping that seductive woman—hadn’t cost him a single cent.

And yet, even so, he’d walked away with both the Tear of True Love and the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood.

Was there an even bloodier, more profitable form of freeloading than this in the entire world?

So this is what it means to be the son of a Duke. I love it.

At least in the Lower City, if nowhere else, Muen’s identity allowed him to truly stir the clouds with a wave of his hand, crush the skies with a stomp of his foot. One stomp, and the entire district would tremble.

“Looks like I’ll be visiting more often. Especially the black market—what a fine place.”

Though... it felt like there was still an unsettled score at the black market...

Well, forget it. I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll let that scammer off the hook—for now. Next time I’ll spank her ass good.

Thinking that, Muen’s steps grew even lighter.

It was already well past midnight.

The bright lights in the distance had dimmed noticeably, likely meaning the guard unit’s operation was coming to an end.

At this hour, returning to the academy was clearly out of the question.

“Guess I’ll just find a random inn for the night.”

Muen looked around at the shops on either side of the street, but quickly realized something—perhaps due to the commotion earlier in the Lower City, every single inn was displaying a “Closed” sign. Even the 24-hour love hotels had shut their doors and windows tight.

“Looks like I’ll have to head to the Upper City to find a place.”

Muen smiled bitterly and silently cursed himself for being too clever for his own good. He turned and began walking toward Tower Bridge.

He still had a ways to go, but the riverside breeze was already beginning to sneak through the narrow streets, bringing with it a touch of cool air.

The moon hid behind a veil of clouds, and the world dimmed considerably. The buildings around him turned to looming shadows stabbing upward into the sky—like the outstretched fingers of demons.

Muen suddenly stopped walking.

He slipped the container holding the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood into his top-grade spatial tool, his gaze sweeping across the thickening fog ahead as his expression slowly grew tense.

There was a scent of blood in that breeze.

Then—he heard footsteps.

Not just one pair.

Vague silhouettes emerged from the mist at the end of the alley.

They looked like they’d just been through a war. Their steps were heavy, and their armor—flickering with faint blue light—was caked with blood and grime.

The man in front still wore a twisted expression. His eyes burned like fire, and his tightly gripped longsword dripped blood, as if still holding back waves of killing intent.

Red Flame Gang?

Lorenzo?

Muen’s eyelid twitched. He cursed under his breath—how could he be this unlucky? The Lower City was so huge, and he still managed to bump into them?

Still, being unlucky was something he’d long accepted. He quickly regained his calm.

He recognized Lorenzo, but Lorenzo didn’t know him.

The man had barely escaped the guard unit alive. He had to be exhausted. Surely he wasn’t dumb enough to mess with some fancy-dressed noble at a time like this.

Muen steadied his breathing and kept walking, acting as if he hadn’t seen them.

Lorenzo’s group was also silent. They didn’t so much as glance at Muen—seemingly too drained, both in body and mind, to care about anyone else.

In the narrow alley, Muen passed by the group.

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed them.

Compared to before, only about a third of their original number remained. Most were injured. Lorenzo’s right-hand man had even lost an entire arm—but he was tough, gritting his teeth without a word.

At the very back of the group, Muen noticed two men whose clothes were spotless—no blood at all. Likely latecomers. They were carrying a large burlap sack between them. Something inside writhed, letting out muffled sobs.

A person?

Muen’s fist clenched involuntarily, his eye twitching.

These bastards were this wrecked... and they still had time to abduct people?

Scum. Absolute scum.

Still, Muen took a deep breath and forced down his fury.

They had numbers. He couldn’t afford to be reckless.

I’ll report them later. Let’s see if the damn guard unit can finally do something right and take these bastards down.

He looked away and quickened his pace.

He was just about to fully pass them. Just a few more steps and he’d be in the clear...

“Wait a second—that kid over there...”

In the still night, the sudden voice cut through like a blade.

Lorenzo had spoken—calling out to Muen.

“Are... you talking to me?”

Muen turned, a stiff smile tugging at his lips.

“Who else would I be talking to? A ghost?”

Lorenzo also turned around, jamming his sheath-less sword into the ground. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with deliberate slowness.

He was a heavy smoker—couldn’t go a day without several packs. But this... was his first of the night.

So he inhaled deeply. Seriously.

The white smoke, sharp with the scent of tobacco, circled in his lungs before drifting out from his mouth, his nose—even his ears.

Paired with those bloodshot eyes, it made him look...

Like he was boiling with rage.

The kind of rage that smokes.

“Kid... do you take me for a f**king idiot?”

Lorenzo sucked the cigarette down to the filter in one breath and spat it out.

“...Huh?”

Muen blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about, sir? Have we met?”

“Tch. Still playing dumb.”

Lorenzo laughed. Then his smile collapsed in an instant.

Replaced by an unspeakable fury.

It was just like the face-switching shows Muen had seen ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) in his past life. He didn’t even see the transition—it was just there, all at once.

An overwhelming flood of anger and hatred surged toward him.

“Kid, you’re the one who used underhanded tricks to sic the guards on us, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Muen kept his face serious. “I’m just a noble young master passing by.”

But the slight tremble in his pinky finger betrayed a sliver of panic.

How the hell does he know?

“Pft. Noble young master...”

Lorenzo’s eyes scanned his luxurious clothes, and suddenly something clicked. He gritted his teeth.

“So that Number Eighty-Eight... that was you too, wasn’t it?!”

There were no such things as coincidences. Just like this encounter.

There was no way that auction had caught two big fish by accident.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about! I was just passing through—”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Passing through? That’s rich!”

Lorenzo barked out three laughs, but his face showed no humor.

“Then look at this.”

He raised his hand—crimson threads, thick like congealed blood, danced in the air.

The threads stretched out... and their end hovered near Muen’s hand, circling it, searching.

Muen froze—then instantly understood.

Shit!

The container for the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood had been tampered with—used for tracking. He never should’ve taken it out to fiddle with!

“What is this? A red string of fate? I’m sorry, but I don’t swing that way!”

Muen flailed the thread off and turned to bolt.

But he’d only gone a few steps—when he stopped.

Because at the end of the alley, Red Flame elites stepped out from the darkness—gripping bloodstained blades and grinning.

More of them?!

Muen’s eyes widened. He counted them—they were injured, yes, but their numbers hadn’t dropped at all since being surrounded by the guard unit.

Damn it! Those tax-fed good-for-nothings couldn’t even kill one?!

I swear, I’m filing a formal complaint the second I get back.

But Muen didn’t have time to worry about the guard unit’s incompetence.

Compared to them, his own crisis was far worse.

Lorenzo had pretended not to recognize him at first—just to lure him into this ambush.

Now, in this alley, he had no way out.

“Kid, the Lifeblood is on you, right? Don’t bother lying. That thread tracks it. Just hand it over, and I’ll let you die quickly.”

Lorenzo drew his blade again. The air grew icy.

“In your dreams.”

At this point, Muen didn’t bother pretending. His eyes swept the surroundings, hunting for a weak spot to break through. He sneered.

“You think I’ll just do what you say? That’s pathetic. And you think I’m just some pushover?”

They were just gangsters from the Lower City. He still believed he had a chance to escape.

“Hah. You’ve got spine. In that case... let me give you—or should I say, dear Number Eighty-Eight—a little gift.”

Lorenzo laughed. This time, it was genuine—like something joyful was about to unfold.

“...Gift?”

“You know where we just came from? The black market. No place better to hide from the guards. I happened to make a little side acquisition there... thought it might be useful, so I brought it along.”

“Guess what? Turns out I was right.”

Lorenzo clapped his hands. The two clean-suited men carried the burlap sack forward.

The person inside was still moaning, sobbing faintly—but no longer struggling. Like a bag of limp flesh that had accepted its fate.

“...What is this? Who’s in there?”

Muen’s face darkened. A deep sense of unease began to stir.

He didn’t know who it was, but the voice... the shape beneath the sack—it gripped his heart with an invisible hand.

“Who? Heh. Why don’t you take a look?”

Lorenzo untied the rope, and the curled-up person inside slid out.

A woman.

Messy black hair spilled out. She faced Muen. Her face—battered, bloody—was barely recognizable beneath ruined makeup.

Feeling the breeze from the river, she tried to open her eyes. But the swelling and bruises kept them shut. Through slitted lids, she saw a blurry figure standing ahead.

“...Sir... is that you?”

She couldn’t see clearly. She couldn’t hear clearly. But by instinct, she sensed the presence of someone familiar. And with great effort, she squeezed a raspy whisper from her throat—soft as a mosquito’s hum, yet clear in Muen’s ears:

“...Run... please run... these people... they’re after you... they’re dangerous...”

“...You—”

Muen’s mind exploded in static.

Of course he recognized her at once.

She was the seductive woman he’d met briefly at the auction.

Yes—briefly.

Their connection had amounted to a shoulder massage and a generous tip.

And yet, looking at her now...

The world seemed to go silent.

One line from her echoed in his ears:

“Sir... I want to become a teacher.”

Right.

He’d given her a large sum of money.

She was supposed to escape the black market—leave the auction scene—enroll in the Gulayne Women’s Academy, and finally, under bright sunlight, achieve her dream.

So why was she here?

Why was she in Lorenzo’s hands?

“You really underestimated us sewer rats down here, huh?”

Lorenzo sneered. “Did you think we’d just sit around and let you toy with us?”

“...What a shame.”

He grabbed the woman’s chin, lifting her battered face for inspection.

“Still pretty. I didn’t want to be this rough. But she wouldn’t say a word. If I hadn’t marked the Lifeblood container in advance, maybe you really would’ve slipped away.”

“She didn’t know anything!!”

Muen snapped back to reality, roaring.

“She has nothing to do with me!!”

“Oh?”

Lorenzo blinked, surprised. “But someone said... she stayed in your room for just over ten minutes and walked out with a wad of cash. If you weren’t into her, why be so generous?”

Someone noticed even that?

Muen’s fingers trembled. He gritted his teeth.

“I’m rich, so what?! I can give my money to whoever the hell I want! If I feel like it, I’ll hand a beggar a house on the street!”

“Ah, that makes sense. The logic of the rich really is hard to grasp sometimes.”

Lorenzo grabbed the woman by the hair and lifted her off the ground. Her limp body swung like a weed in the wind.

She whimpered from the pain, but still muttered things like “Run... please run...”

Even though she was the one about to die.

“...Disgusting, isn’t it?”

Lorenzo snorted. “You toss her a few coins like charity, and she acts like she’s fallen for you.”

He placed his blade at her neck, grinning cruelly.

“And look at you. I didn’t grab the wrong person, did I, kid? You look real pissed off right now. What’s wrong—your ridiculous little sense of justice flaring up?”

“...What do you want?”

Muen took a deep breath, forced down the rising heat in his chest, and made himself think clearly.

“You want the Lifeblood, right? Fine. I’ll give it to you.”

“Oh? Willing to hand it over so easily... for a woman you claim has nothing to do with you?”

“A human life is on the line. The Lifeblood is nothing in comparison.”

“Heh. Spoken like a true rich young master. Only someone born with wealth and power could spout such naive crap.”

Lorenzo pressed the blade closer—drawing a thin red line across her pale throat.

One more inch... and her fragile life would vanish.

He had no intention of stopping. He simply stared into Muen’s eyes—at the fury, the helplessness.

And that sight—was the most delightful thing he’d seen all night.

All the frustration of the evening seemed to melt away in an instant.

“Stop! Stop it, damn you!!”

Blood already trickled from her neck. Muen felt like his chest was set on fire. Rage twisted his expression.

“I command you to stop!!”

“Command?”

Lorenzo let out a mocking laugh. “And what gives you the right to command me?”

“This!!”

At that moment of crisis, Muen stopped holding back. He pulled out the one thing that had never failed him:

His family crest.

The insignia of a dragon-slaying sword gleamed in the dim light like a blade hanging over everyone’s necks.

Lorenzo’s mocking smile froze.

“I am Muen Campbell, son of the Duke of Campbell!”

Muen’s voice rang out like a war drum.

“Lorenzo! I order you to release her! If you let her go, I’ll pretend this never happened. But if you keep going... you know what’ll happen. With one word from me, I can erase you—and the Red Flame Gang you hide behind—from this world!”

“C... Campbell...?”

Lorenzo stared wide-eyed at the crest in Muen’s hand. His body began to tremble.

One of the basics in the underworld was memorizing all noble family crests. And no one would ever dare impersonate the Campbell name.

One glance—and he knew.

It was real.

The boy before him... was truly that legendary Duke’s son.

Lorenzo’s vision went white. He nearly fainted on the spot.

A Duke.

Two syllables that sat atop the entire nation.

Rats in the Lower City could claw for a lifetime and never even see the shadow of that title.

And now, the person who wore that title... stood right in front of him.

And not only had he seen his face, he’d spit at his feet. He’d nailed spikes into the soles of that heir’s shoes.

He... had offended the son of a Duke.

“C-Campbell... Young Master? I-I thought you were maybe the son of a Viscount at most... but a D-Duke...?”

All color drained from Lorenzo’s face. The thrill and dominance he’d felt vanished instantly—replaced with fear and regret.

His features twisted in horror. His spine curled. He looked like he wanted to throw himself at Muen’s feet and kiss his toes.

“That’s right. I’m the future Duke.”

“...And you said... if I let her go... you won’t pursue this?”

Lorenzo stammered, his hands shaking as he slowly lowered the knife. In front of this noble-born heir, this once-feared Lower City gangster looked like a dirt-streaked insect.

Even his grip on the weapon was unsteady.

When Muen saw the dangerous blade leave the woman’s throat, he exhaled slowly.

“Of course it’s true. I swear on the Campbell name—if you release her now, I will never—”

His oath... was never finished.

Because it was cut off.

By a sound:

“Puh—”

In the ever-deepening cold of night...

In the spray of warm, fresh blood—

Muen’s eyes flew wide open, frozen.

That man, who just moments ago had looked so terrified—

Suddenly twisted with rage.

Gripping the sword tight once more, he drove it—

Straight through the woman’s fragile body.

As if she were a flower.

Snapped in two.

“You think I’d believe you?”

Lorenzo’s eyes were soaked in bloodlust. He roared with rage, then burst into laughter.

“Did you all hear that? If we don’t kill this little Duke tonight, none of us are getting out alive!!”