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

Annie was seated on Rayta’s shoulder, and from directly above she could fully take in, with perfect clarity, those two full, swollen curves she herself did not possess. Of course, there was also that middle finger.

The world seemed to go quiet for an instant. In that moment, Annie felt she could hear only the blood surging in her head, and that one line... “Flat-board corpse.”

Flat-board corpse?

Flat-board corpse?

Flat-board corpse?

No one had ever dared call her a flat-board corpse to her face! And she wasn’t a board—there was clearly a little bit of a swell, okay.

A tiny hill is still a hill!

A little groove is still a groove!

“You’re looking for death!”

Annie rose straight up from his shoulder; killing intent burst out in a flash. Beneath her feet, the towering freak Rayta’s muscles swelled all over; veins bulged, as if black snakes were swimming under his skin. His steel-forged arm let out a violent cascade of mechanism impacts like a mountain collapsing—an intimidating force.

Muen silently tightened his grip on his blades, his expression growing solemn...

“You two—are you sure you want to fight here?”

Suddenly a gentle voice, like a spring breeze, brushed across them—yet it blew the sharp killing aura away with undeniable force. Muen caught a rich floral fragrance.

In a white dress, Freya walked fearlessly between them, smiling as if to admonish, “This isn’t a good time to fight.”

“...”

Annie, on the verge of exploding, didn’t speak; her small face stiffened at once as her gaze instinctively swept around. The participants who had survived last night’s anomaly and gathered here were watching with great interest—some with expectant faces, some with cold light in their eyes. Like a pack of hyenas spectating a lion duel, waiting for mutual destruction so they could split the spoils.

“...”

Annie looked again at Freya standing in the middle, ground her teeth, and forcibly pressed the veins back from her forehead.

“Hmph! Consider yourself lucky!”

With a cold snort, she directed the freak and actually turned to leave—though as she went she shot Seviel a vicious glare, as if trying to gouge her chest out with her eyes.

“I’ll tear you apart sooner or later!”

Seviel: ???

What did I do?

Seviel stood there baffled, feeling like she’d done nothing and somehow ended up with a mortal enemy out of nowhere. She wanted to cry.

“She can hold that in?”

Muen watched the giant’s retreating back, rubbed his chin, and murmured with regret, “She looks hot-headed, but she’s not that brainless after all.” Still, that was fine—at a time like this, he didn’t want to...

Hm?

Mid-thought, Muen suddenly felt another icy gaze fall on him—carrying the same cutting killing intent that made his scalp prickle. Strange—had he provoked someone else?

He turned his head—and met eyes with another Candidate Saintess.

The White-Gold Princess, Margarita. Her defining feature—also flat.

...He almost forgot: that last move had AOE damage.

My bad, my bad.

Muen forcibly straightened his head back, as if he hadn’t felt that chill at all, and nodded to Freya in front of him. “Hello, Miss Freya. We meet again.”

“Hello, Mr. Muen.”

Freya twirled a fragrant petal between her fingers and smiled. “So—do you like my flowers now?”

That inexplicable question again.

“Sorry—still don’t.” Muen shook his head.

“How heartless, when I just helped you.”

Her tone carried a playful pout, but her expression remained so pure. Her looks weren’t especially striking, yet it was hard to look away. “By the way—want to join us?” she suddenly asked.

“Join you?”

“An alliance,” Freya said softly. “Given the special circumstances right now, perhaps we’d be better off working together.”

“Why me? In most people’s eyes I’m a soft persimmon, a little lamb.”

Muen raised a brow. “There are plenty here more ‘excellent’ than I am.”

“Who can say.”

Freya’s meaning was deep. “A word like ‘excellent’ is defined subjectively, no? In short, I think highly of you, Mr. Muen. Before we cross blades for that one-and-only spot, I think we might have room to cooperate.”

Muen’s eyes flickered. Freya was clearly extending goodwill, but that odd feeling still wouldn’t disperse.

“Sorry, I already have teammates.” He refused her directly.

“Is that so?”

Freya didn’t press. She merely sighed, “What a pity.”

That sigh twined with a plaintive sorrow, as if it fell on the softest part of Muen’s heart—he almost changed his mind. But a wave of heat flashed through him, and his mind cleared again.

“What was that...”

Muen’s brows drew together, but when he looked up he saw only Freya’s back as she left. She didn’t linger for him—but in the shadow behind her, another chilly gaze slid his way, along with a cold laugh, icy enough to bite.

Muen considered it—then raised a middle finger toward the shadow again. “What are you staring at, you simp.”

“...”

......

......

With only eight hours of daylight, nearly halfway through it someone finally couldn’t wait any longer and took the initiative to enter the passage first. With a vanguard set, the rest naturally lost their scruples—though they had been hesitating for ages, unwilling to be the pathfinding stone, now they seemed a bit impatient.

After last night’s events, most people’s mindsets had shifted. They likely didn’t want to linger in a ruin that reeked of rot every night. Those terrifying monsters had left a shadow on their hearts.

“Let’s go too.”

Once over half had gone in, Muen’s group damped their presence and followed low-key behind the crowd.

The passage was spacious—hundreds could enter at once without crowding—but it was extremely dark, without a trace of light. Someone cast illumination, and an enormous manmade chamber appeared before them. At the center was a deep pit leading downward; at the edge of the pit, rusted metal formed a giant lift platform.

Muen glanced down over the edge. Very deep—a direct jump probably wouldn’t work.

“Do we need to fly?”

“I can use Summoning magic,” Vicki said.

Muen looked around. Some were already impatiently casting Flight spells or summoning flying beasts to drop into the pit.

“No need.”

He shook his head and pointed at the lift beside them. “We’ll take this.”

“Will it work?”

Senior Fanny was surprised. “It looks this dilapidated.”

Muen’s group was already on the late side, yet no one had used this lift at all. The rust spoke to its ancient history, as if it could fail at any moment and collapse.

“It should be fine. Magically driven contraptions aren’t that fragile.”

Muen went to the console by the lift and pulled the lever—no response. He thought a moment, then gave it a solid kick. Threads of mana finally ran across the panel, and the lift roared to life with mechanical rumbling.

Muen turned, shrugged at the dumbfounded group, and smiled. “Told you—it still works.”

......

On the lift, watching the very slow descent, Seviel yawned in boredom. “Honestly, if we used magic we’d be down already. Is there any need for this?”

“In my experience, this is safer.”

“Safer?”

Seviel pointed at the badly rusted metal groaning under operation. “You’re sure?”

“More or less.”

Muen nodded, looking from the lift’s edge toward those below who had already landed and were beginning to explore the surroundings in apparent peace. “Caution first.”

“...”

Seviel pouted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She didn’t see what there was to be cautious about. Everyone had just entered this unfamiliar place—would they really /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ be thinking about starting trouble now?

Thinking that, she glanced enviously toward the sky at the people circling on a fierce vulture. If only Muen had taken her—sitting on a griffin’s back, soaring through the air; he would wrap his arms around her waist from behind, whisper in her ear...

Darling, hold tight...

Ahh, no good—he’s so handsome that just imagining it makes my nose bleed!

But...

Seviel felt a twinge of regret. Even someone that handsome could make a poor call—at least this overly cautious move, in her view, would slow—

“Pa.”

A crisp sound broke the tacit silence—and snapped Seviel’s fantasy. She stared down in astonishment.

“Bastard! Who the hell grabbed my ass!”

With that furious roar, a powerful spell blasted out—lighting the darkness, but no one knew where it landed.

Then came more shouts.

“Who! Who ambushed me!”

“Damn it—who grabbed my chest—I’m a man!”

“Despicable! You bastards have no honor—we agreed to coexist peacefully for now!”

Whether premeditated or just vindictive retaliation, more spells and martial techniques bloomed one after another like fireworks at night—and swiftly spread into a massive brawl.

The fight was on. Almost everyone threw multiple layers of buffs on themselves at speed, then, under cover from teammates, launched indiscriminate attacks at those around them. No need to worry about collateral damage; in this melee, anyone not a teammate was an enemy.

And in the chaos, the most conspicuous targets were naturally those swaggering past on flying beasts—even flaunting sickly displays of affection on top.

Damn it—don’t they know most folks here are single?

So, to Seviel’s dumbstruck gaze, the vulture she’d just been envying was soon roasted bald by a dozen angry fire spells; the riders didn’t even have time to scream before they were eliminated.

At that moment, the lift happened to settle smoothly at the bottom. With no extraneous mana signature, in the chaos and darkness they didn’t stand out at all.

Muen stepped off first, straightened his collar against the dazzling backdrop, and looked back with a smile. “See? Told you—this way is safe.”

“...”