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

Inside the room, Celicia looked at the gaping hole Muen had smashed through when he went flying. She took a deep breath, slowly steadying her breathing.

With her powerful emotional control, the fiery clouds across her pretty face gradually dispersed, her expression quickly returning to icy calm.

As if nothing at all had happened.

...

“President~”

Veil poked her head in, tiptoeing cautiously through the doorway. What she saw was a pale dress fluttering lightly, a cold and noble demeanor, not a strand of hair out of place—Celicia, the very image of what a princess should be.

Truly worthy of being the President...

Looking at this stunning girl of otherworldly beauty, Veil couldn’t help but be a little dazed, sighing inwardly.

How foolish she had been, to even imagine last night that the President might be taken advantage of by Muen Campbell!

Look at her now—untainted, as if sculpted by the hand of the gods, a precious jewel. Even if he were her fiancé, how could she possibly be sullied by a scumbag like Muen Campbell?

Not the slightest chance.

The President was the President—forever holy and aloof, like a snow lotus standing proud upon the heights, scorning the filth of the mortal world.

And that was why Veil admired her so.

At that moment, Veil’s gaze wandered again around the wreck of the room.

She couldn’t help clicking her tongue in amazement.

Look at the shattered tables, chairs, stools. Look at the documents scattered everywhere. Look at the bed, once sturdy, now collapsed completely as if two rutting elephants had trampled it in their frenzy.

Muen Campbell, were you treated as nothing more than a punching bag, run through a hundred rounds of drilling by the President last night?

Thinking that, Veil’s heart swelled with pity once more.

Muen Campbell, seeing how miserable you are, I’ll be sure to badmouth you less from now on!

Just then, Veil suddenly felt a cold gaze fall on her. Her bun-shaped face stiffened, and she put on a pitiful expression.

“President~”

Celicia looked at Veil icily. “Classmate Veil, you ran quite fast last night.”

“I—I was only worried about the President.”

Veil blinked, explaining,

“If the President lost control and accidentally caused some serious consequences, once you sobered up, you’d definitely feel guilty. So as your secretary, of course I had to take the initiative to prevent such possibilities.”

“Then what was the meaning of locking Muen Campbell inside with me?”

At this point, even Celicia’s usual coldness gave way to clenched teeth. “That too was to prevent losses?”

“Mm-hm!”

Veil nodded vigorously, speaking as if it were only natural:

“As long as Muen Campbell held the President’s attention, there’d be no further damage. And look—the effect was excellent! This time the President didn’t even bring the house down.

“And besides...”

She pursed her lips, speaking with disdain,

“With Muen Campbell’s strength, it’s not like he could do anything to the President anyway. Perfect, isn’t it?”

“...”

Looking at the oblivious, naive Veil, Celicia almost choked with fury.

Yes—he really hadn’t been able to do anything to her.

On the contrary, he had only been pressed beneath her and thoroughly ravaged for three hours straight.

That really was no big deal! (gritted teeth)

“Forget it.”

Celicia drew a deep breath, once more suppressing the emotions she could barely control whenever that guy came to mind.

She had no intention of punishing Veil further—doing so would only make her look guilty, as if she had something to hide.

“Where is that guy? Dead yet?”

“Muen Campbell? Nope. But I think he’s passed out. Should we give him treatment?”

Veil offered kindly.

But to her surprise, Celicia reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Her tone instantly turned icy again:

“Why would I treat him? Let him die.”

“Oh... o-okay...”

Veil flinched.

But the pity in her heart grew all the stronger.

Poor Muen Campbell—after all that, the President wouldn’t even heal you.

So it was true—this guy was despised by the President.

“Help me sort the documents,” Celicia exhaled, changing the subject.

The smashed tables, chairs, stools, and bed during that “battle” were of no importance.

The real problem was the stack of documents she had only just finished handling yesterday. Now, scattered everywhere by their movements.

Physical brawling probably wouldn’t damage the papers, but having to reorganize so many was going to be tedious work.

“Okay.”

Naturally Veil had no objection. Since she hadn’t received the punishment she expected, she happily hummed a little tune and began her work.

“Huh?”

But as she was tidying, Veil suddenly let out a puzzled sound.

In her hand was a file she studied closely, a giant question mark rising above her head.

“This document... why does it ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) look like it’s been wet? Coffee? No... doesn’t look like coffee. And also...”

Veil bent down and sniffed at the file.

“It kind of smells strange, mus—”

“Veil!”

A furious, flustered shout cut her off. Celicia snatched the file away, a faint blush flashing across her pretty face.

“You don’t need to sort the documents. Go clean the bathhouse!”

“Eh? Why?”

Veil blinked blankly, not even noticing Celicia’s abnormality.

The bathhouse?

That big? All by myself?

“Because that guy soaked in the bathhouse. I don’t like it. Go, quickly!”

“...Oh.”

Though she was a little pleased at the President’s continued show of disgust toward Muen Campbell, the thought of having to clean such a huge bathhouse alone made her whole face collapse.

Her odd thoughts from earlier all vanished like smoke.

“President~” Veil tried to whine.

“No calling others. No magic. Go!”

Celicia glared coldly. “If I find even a trace of that guy’s scent left in the bathhouse, I’ll strip you bare and throw you into his room!”

“Uu...”

At those words, Veil’s heart let out a cry of despair.

I really do hate you.

Damn you, Muen Campbell!

...

Once everything was in order, Celicia heard a knock at the door.

“At this time...”

She glanced at the sky, understanding.

“So they’ve come after all.”

Since there was no one else in the courtyard she could send, she went to open the door herself.

Outside, a royal knight clad in gold-patterned armor saw Celicia and half-knelt in salute.

“Your Highness.”

“Mm.”

Celicia nodded lightly.

“You’ve come for Muen Campbell?”

“Yes.”

The knight nodded. “By His Majesty’s order.”

“He’s over there.”

Celicia pointed toward the collapsed courtyard wall. Beneath the rubble, only a graceful backside still stuck out, as if declaring its protest to the unjust heavens.

The knight’s expression didn’t flicker. He simply nodded toward Celicia. From behind him emerged two attendant knights carrying a stretcher. They wobbled over to the wall.

The two of them pulled Muen out of the debris, set him onto the stretcher—still with his butt in the air—and wobbled away with him.

“Then, we take our leave, Your Highness.”

The knight bowed respectfully.

“Mm.”

Celicia nodded slightly. But as if recalling something, she suddenly added:

“By the way.”

“What are Your Highness’s orders?”

“There’s a river over that way.”

Celicia pointed in a direction, her tone icy. “Before bringing him to see Father... throw him in the river and rinse him first.”