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

After stepping through the gate, Muen narrowed his eyes slightly, quickly adapting to the faintly bright light. An entire world unfolded before him.

Blue sky.

White clouds.

Grassland.

Forests.

Lush fruit and vivid flowers.

A gentle breeze drifted from afar, carrying an unfamiliar fragrance. In the distance, a river split the fields apart; perhaps it was the light, but its surface shimmered with a pure, milky white. There was no sun, yet the brightness was perfect—soft, comfortable.

“So this... is the Lost Land, Canterville?”

Muen was stunned. Before coming, he’d imagined countless possibilities for the ruins’ interior, even researched related records. In the original story, such ruins were always described as dark, ruinous places—filled with traps and the marks of time’s chiseling—where only traces of ancient civilization whispered of past glory.

But now...

Muen crouched down, digging his fingers into the soil and lifting a handful. The black dirt, tangled with plant roots, carried a fresh earthy scent, brimming with vitality. Nothing here felt dead; it was less a ruin than a thriving kingdom.

“It’s... so beautiful.”

Beside him, Liya stood among swaying blossoms, her small mouth slightly open in wonder. The breeze lifted the hem of her green skirt, blending her into the foliage. Her bright face looked as radiant as the flowers themselves.

“My Saintess mentor said it was beautiful, but I didn’t expect this beautiful... And this vitality, this mana...”

Closing her eyes, Liya inhaled deeply, a delighted shimmer between her brows. “It’s so full... Even outside, a place like this would be spring all year, overflowing with life.”

As one attuned to the Life Goddess, she naturally adored such places. Here, she didn’t need to do anything—simply being made her feel at peace.

“It is beautiful,” Muen nodded, his eyes reflecting the breathtaking scene. Then, with a straight face, he added, “Too bad you don’t know Image Preservation Magic.”

“Image Preservation Magic?” Liya blinked. “What do you need that for?”

“With that magic, I could record how beautiful you look right now.”

Muen stroked his chin thoughtfully, studying her. “A photo of the future Saintess before she became famous—worth framing as a family treasure. You hang it in the most prominent spot at home and worship it every day. Priceless.”

“Eh—wha... what are you saying? You can’t use my picture for something like that! A family heirloom? That’s too much...”

Flustered, Liya stomped her foot, her face turning red. Then she tucked her face shyly into her chest, sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eyes, fingers twisting together.

“But if... if Muen really wants it... I can give it. I... know that spell.”

“......”

Leaves rustled.

The dappled shadows danced over her shoulders, forming the perfect play of light—an image that would be beautiful from any angle.

Yet, perhaps because of a sudden gust of wind, Muen found it a little hard to breathe. His heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want it?” Liya, seemingly having overcome her shyness, lifted her head and blinked at him.

“L-let’s just focus on the task for now.” Muen looked away, hastily changing the subject. “By the way, you mentioned your Saintess mentor earlier... Does that mean you don’t know much about this place either?”

“I know about as much as everyone else,” she admitted, shaking her head. “The Church is always impartial about these things. Even we Saintess candidates aren’t given any special treatment. Besides, no one can really claim to understand this place. The Church only explored the outer layer and confirmed the danger level isn’t too high. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be sending us to explore deeper.”

“That makes sense.”

Muen turned his gaze to the distance. Against the backdrop of blue sky and white clouds, a towering barrier loomed faintly. But even the strongest walls couldn’t withstand time forever.

A ruin buried for a thousand years, yet still so vibrant and intact—anyone would be curious, even greedy to uncover its secret. Perhaps that was why the Church had laid so many baits, allowing so many forces to intervene... and even adding one final temptation.

Though to Muen, that “reward” reeked of the Pope’s mockery.

“There’s another question,” he said, turning back. “Since the Church’s goal is to have us explore and uncover Canterville’s truth, then for you Saintess candidates—what exactly is the condition to become Saintess?”

It couldn’t simply be “whoever goes deepest wins,” right? That didn’t sound like something worthy of the title “Saintess.”

“About that...” Liya scratched her cheek awkwardly. “I’m not really sure.”

“Huh?”

Muen froze. “What do you mean, not sure?”

“B-because... the condition to become Saintess changes every Holy Baptism Ceremony. We have to figure it out ourselves. But... maybe it’s connected to this.”

She took out the crystal the Saintess had given them.

“This?”

Muen eyed the transparent stone, sensing nothing unusual from it. He remembered how the Saintess had personally handed one to each candidate that night.

“Mm. Records say every ceremony gives candidates a unique token, and the key to becoming Saintess is tied to it.”

“I see...”

Muen rubbed his chin. So even the path to sainthood required one’s own deductions. The Church truly left no loopholes.

Still... there was another unspoken method—one the Church didn’t mention, but everyone understood.

Muen glanced at Liya, thinking quietly.

—Make the other Saintess candidates withdraw.

If only one remained, then that one would naturally be the “chosen.” Just like the brutal Saintess Wars of old.

“Well, at least everyone starts equally. From here, it’s all on our own effort.”

Just like that warm afternoon in the bookshop... Muen clenched his fist and extended his hand.

“Let’s both do our best—for the Saintess title.”

“...Mm. Let’s.”

Liya blinked, then smiled softly and bumped her pink fist against his. “I’ll try my best not to slow you down!”

“No, no, you’re the main force. If anyone’s slowing us down, it’s me.” Muen chuckled.

“Hmm... Are you teasing me?” she pouted.

“Honest truth.”

“Liar.”

“I never lie—especially to pretty girls.”

“Liar...”

...

Chatting idly, the two advanced deeper into the ruins. Thanks to the barrier’s presence, direction wasn’t hard to tell. They hadn’t encountered anyone else yet; though over a hundred had entered, that was nothing compared to the vastness of this place.

Still, they didn’t drop their guard just because the Church claimed it was “low-risk.” Muen led the way cautiously while Liya followed close behind, extending her senses.

Just like that time...

Watching Muen’s broad ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) back, Liya’s thoughts drifted to the forest from before—

The same unknown land, the same uncertain path, the same two people alone together.

But...

She pressed her hand, still faintly warm from earlier, against her chest, gaze lowering toward his side.

Could she, like before, use necessity as an excuse and calmly... take his hand again?

Could she?

“Hold up.”

His back suddenly halted. Liya, caught off guard, bumped hard into him.

“Ow... That hurt!”

“Hm?” Muen turned with a grin. “That’s rare—you spacing out?”

“J-just thinking about the Saintess conditions,” she stammered, rubbing her nose, cheeks pink.

When did lying start coming so easily?

Merciful Goddess, please forgive Liya once again.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Look over there.”

Muen pointed ahead. “There’s a village.”

“A village?”

Peeking out from behind him, Liya followed his finger. Sure enough, nestled amid the greenery, clusters of houses stretched across the field—ancient yet orderly.

“Then... there are natives?”

Her eyes widened, excitement flickering like sunlight. For uncovering Canterville’s truth, nothing would beat learning from its residents.

“Maybe... But don’t get your hopes up too much.” Muen quickly tempered her enthusiasm.

“Eh? Why?”

“The vegetation’s overgrown—no signs of habitation. And... we haven’t seen any farmland. That’s not normal for a village.”

“Ah...”

Liya deflated like a kitten robbed of its treat.

“Well...” Muen’s lips curved faintly as he glanced at her. “Let’s check it out anyway. Maybe we’ll find something unexpected.”

“Mm!”

...

As expected, the village was desolate.

Weeds half a man’s height choked everything. Crumbling walls were overrun by vines. In the center stood a windmill—its blades broken, creaking mournfully in the wind.

“The architecture... really is different from outside.”

Muen ran his hand over a rough wall, its material unidentifiable, shaped into a perfect cylinder. The entire village shared this style—cylindrical walls with conical roofs—reminding him of toy blocks from his past life.

Ancient folk sure had a sense of whimsy.

He couldn’t help but remark inwardly, then frowned. “It doesn’t look that ancient.”

Picking something off the ground, he found a torn garment with strange, intricate patterns. Despite the dust and age, the fabric remained intact—meaning it hadn’t been abandoned long.

A hundred years? No... maybe just decades. Nowhere near a millennium.

He pushed open a frail wooden door.

Creak—

Dust burst outward, revealing a dark, empty room.

Muen tossed the garment inside, waited a moment, then threw in a few stones.

Thud. Thud.

No response.

“So just a normal abandoned village?” he murmured.

“Muen!”

Liya waved him over excitedly. “Come look at this!”

He followed her gaze toward the stone structure beneath the windmill—the village’s very center.

It was a statue.

Long hair flowing, skirt billowing, arms spread as if to lovingly embrace all life—

“A goddess?” Muen blinked. “Why would there be a statue of the Life Goddess Emille here?”

Did Canterville worship her too?

“Right? Doesn’t it look like her?”

Liya clasped her hands devoutly, offered a brief prayer, then tilted her head. “But... something’s off.”

“Off?”

“This statue... has no face.”

“No face?”

Muen froze. Indeed—unlike every other statue of the Goddess, sculpted by the finest craftsmen into a visage brimming with love and holiness, this one’s face was blank—smooth and empty.

“Maybe... just a difference in craftsmanship?” he suggested. Not every sculptor could replicate perfection.

“Maybe.” Liya nodded, then huffed indignantly. “But the scriptures say—depicting the Goddess faceless is blasphemy!”

“Ah... maybe just a different custom of faith.”

After all, even in his previous world, people worshiped the same god in countless sects. A few doctrinal differences weren’t surprising—especially for a land buried for a thousand years. The Church might’ve rewritten its scriptures a dozen times by now.

“I guess... but—pfft.”

Turning toward him, Liya suddenly burst into laughter.

“Pfft—haha!”

Her laughter rang clear as silver bells. “You look like an old grandpa!”

“Old grandpa?”

Muen blinked, then instinctively touched his hair—only to feel dust all over his fingers.

“Ah, from that house earlier.”

He sighed. So cautious about traps, yet he forgot about dust. Damn it, my handsome blond hair.

“Wait, I can use Holy Light—”

“No need. Save your strength.” Muen waved her off, chuckling. “I heard running water nearby. There’s probably a river. I’ll just wash it off.”

“...Fine.”

Liya lowered her hand, quietly pouting. Tch. Missed my chance to pat his head.

“I’ll keep looking around then?”

“Be careful.”

“Mm.”

...

Following the sound of water, Muen pushed through dense growth. He remembered seeing a river from afar earlier—white and glimmering.

“This should be it.”

The murmur grew clearer. Parting the final bush with his blade, Muen stepped out—then froze.

He stared blankly at the river, eyes wide in shock.

Because...

“White?”

Even under shadow, beyond any trick of light—

The river before him flowed white.

Milky white.

“No way...”

Muen stepped closer, dipped his fingers, hesitated, then ignited a faint crimson flame in his eyes. Bringing his hand to his lips, he cautiously licked.

Lightning shot through him.

“It’s... actually...”

“Milk?!”

Ordinary milk—fresh, unspoiled, perfectly safe.

But how? This was... a river.

His gaze followed its course—stretching far into the distance, then vanishing into the forest.

An entire river of milk.

“Muen!”

Liya’s panicked voice called out.

Turning, he saw her rushing over, breathless, holding a fruit—red and glossy like an apple, but much larger.

“L-look at this.”

“What’s that?”

“I was checking for edible things and found these fruits. But look...”

She drew a small knife and sliced it open.

From the cut oozed crimson liquid.

No—

That wasn’t juice.

It was blood.

The metallic scent filled his nose, leaving no doubt.

Blood.

But... from a fruit?

Liya split it fully in half, showing the red, sinewy texture beneath the skin, laced with pale veins. Her voice trembled:

“These trees... they grow meat!”