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

The deep, resonant voice of chanting echoed through the dark, cage-like old house.

It was a rich male baritone, raised in high song, carrying the momentum of an entire orchestra by itself. Accompanied by a harp, Marvin performed with words of exquisite beauty and exaggerated gestures, extolling the glory of the moon above.

And indeed, a pale moonlight descended from the heavens.

Muen looked up. The ethereal glow resembled gauze, or drifting mist—enveloping all things in a languid, dreamlike grace.

A scent of death awoke within that moonlight. Twisted shadows rose silently from the floor, splitting apart into countless deep black dots.

They were swarms of insects—densely packed, filling every corner of the darkness.

The grotesque little black worms seemed empowered by the moonlight. Their sharp limbs scraped together in excitement, and their blood-red compound eyes gleamed with frenzy and bloodlust.

“Followers of the Moon?”

Muen felt the cold, lifeless moonlight against his palm and murmured in faint surprise:

“But hasn’t the moon already died?”

By all logic, after the Silent Moon had completely “perished,” those heretics who worshiped it should have lost their source of power—incapable of stirring any true waves again.

Could it be that some of its power still lingered in the world?

That was possible. A god’s traces never disappeared so easily. And those worms really did resemble the twisted “moon beasts” Muen had once encountered—creatures mutated by lunar corruption.

“But the problem right now isn’t whether the moon’s real or not, is it?”

He casually pulled a defensive magic device from his storage space and placed it near Emily.

It was a Holy Light artifact he’d picked up in the Holy City—not too expensive, only a few hundred thousand Aimier—but its holy radiance could block filth and corruption for a while.

Moreover, it carried Saintess Liya’s personal blessing, more than enough to protect an ordinary little girl from any outside harm.

With his worry settled, Muen finally turned all his attention toward the enemy before him.

He wasn’t afraid of this death-stained moonlight.

By this point, it was nearly impossible for any Evil God’s power to corrupt him easily. Besides, within this glow, he couldn’t sense the true “deathly stillness” belonging to the Silent Moon.

The strange feeling lingered in his chest. After spending so long around his senior sister, he had learned to tell—this moonlight felt fake.

But as he’d said before, the problem wasn’t whether it was a real moon or not. The problem was...

Something familiar—an anomaly.

At the same time the poem began, Muen had already drawn his blade. There was no way he’d just stand there and let Marvin continue this bizarre performance.

The dazzling flash of his blade outshone the moonlight instantly. Compressed within a single breath, his thunderous power unleashed its full, tearing brilliance.

The rushing swarm hadn’t even shown its terror before it was cleanly split apart—revealing Marvin the wandering poet, utterly defenseless behind them.

But then, that same familiar haze overtook his mind again. The black flame flickered in Muen’s eyes.

“What’s going on?”

He frowned, looking toward Marvin, who was still deeply immersed in his own act.

His clothes were ragged, his appearance disheveled, yet his wild gestures carried a strange magnetism that made one overlook how filthy he looked.

But there was no doubt—Marvin stood there unharmed.

His attack ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) had done nothing. No, rather—

Muen looked down. His hands were still lowered, gripping the blades, his stance unchanged—as if that slash had been nothing but an illusion.

“Again...”

He remembered it clearly—it had been the same before. He’d already cut Marvin’s head off, even crushed it underfoot. But after a brief daze, he found himself standing right back where he had been.

“Illusion? No...”

Even if it were illusion magic, the act of striking should have truly occurred. But that instant of reality resetting, as though nothing had ever happened, felt more like—

“Time reversal?”

The thought flashed through his mind, and even Muen froze for a moment.

But he quickly rejected it.

The old loli had said it before—there was no god who governed time in this world, and thus no divine blessing or power related to it.

Of course, there might exist powerful spells or artifacts capable of achieving similar effects—but Muen doubted anything could deceive him, the future bearer of the Eternal Clock.

So that meant...

“Cognitive alteration again?”

His expression hardened. He recalled the pitiful townsfolk—minds parasitized by worms, completely unaware, treating “no fire allowed” as some unquestionable truth.

Until logic itself broke down, they couldn’t even perceive the absurdity.

He was the same now.

His perception had been rewritten. He believed he had decapitated Marvin—but in truth, he had merely stood there, dazed for a heartbeat.

This was something far worse than illusion or hypnosis. To achieve it required an even deeper manipulation of the mind.

To influence his psyche at this level... even his senior sister hadn’t noticed it before.

Muen’s eyes snapped toward the harp in Marvin’s hands.

“An ancient relic?”

If this wasn’t sheer overwhelming strength directly crushing his mind through brute force, then the only explanation was one of those mysterious, ancient relics.

Marvin clearly wasn’t strong enough to overpower him physically. If he were, their first meeting would’ve been fists to the face—not some creepy theater act.

“Heh. As expected of a duke’s son—well-read and quick to guess.”

As if finishing a verse, Marvin paused his chanting and lovingly caressed the harp in his hands.

“Its name is The Harp of the Fool. When one gives it a performance of sufficient excellence, all the audience shall sink into the gospel of folly.”

“Gospel?”

Muen sneered.

“So you’re one of those ‘ignorance is bliss’ preachers?”

“Heh, what a pity, Muen Campbell. Your mental strength far exceeds my expectations—far beyond the so-called geniuses I’ve seen.”

Marvin shook his head in regret.

“But sometimes, being too awake is the true source of pain. Wouldn’t it be better to willingly lose yourself—see all of this as a beautiful play, and wait for the curtain to fall in joy and happiness?”

“Like those townsfolk?”

“Yes.”

Marvin nodded lightly.

“If you hadn’t torn the veil between ignorance and reality, they would have, at the climax of the festival, welcomed the descent of their goddess—and then... experienced true bliss!”

His tender expression twisted into fury as he roared,

“It was you who ruined that perfect performance! You who gave them pain!”

The swarm grew restless. In the mournful moonlight they looked even more terrifying, and without hesitation they surged toward Muen.

“Hah. Sounds like I’m the villain here, doesn’t it?”

Muen roared back, driving his fist into the writhing mass of shadows.

If slashing didn’t work, then he’d use his fists—wait, why did he suddenly feel that his flesh-and-blood fists were somehow better suited than sharp weapons against brain-eating worms?

His movement faltered; his consciousness flickered. Within the strength of his own spirit, the false cognition was corrected once more.

But the swarm was already within arm’s reach.

In that instant, reflexes honed through countless drills took over. Thunder roared from his fist as lightning burst outward, scattering the oncoming horde.

But mere repulsion wasn’t enough. Muen grit his teeth and swung his blades again. Thirtyfold stacked force condensed in an instant, cutting mercilessly toward the cold moonlight above.

The roof shattered under the strike, revealing a night sky devoid of stars or shape. As for the moonlight—of course, it couldn’t be cleaved apart.

“What terrifying power.”

Marvin continued strumming, head tilted back, admiring the destruction as though it were fireworks.

“If I’d taken that head-on, even with my beloved brain-eaters sustaining my life, I doubt I’d be intact. Speed, strength, reflexes—and those twin blades that chill the heart just by sight...

Muen Campbell, you’re truly a frightening man. Anyone else facing you would have a headache.”

“But alas, you happened to meet me.”

Marvin looked down at Muen and smiled strangely.

“In front of me, none of your strengths matter. You’re just a lamb waiting for slaughter.”

“...”

Still pondering why he’d just tried to slash moonlight, Muen drew in a slow breath and said blankly,

“Don’t you think you’re popping the champagne a little early?”

“Oh? I don’t think so. Why don’t you take a look behind you?”

Muen frowned—and then, as if realizing something, whipped around.

Behind him was Emily—and the Holy Light device he’d placed to protect her.

That artifact was Church-made, guaranteed quality. With Liya’s personal blessing, the barrier it should’ve projected could withstand several full-power strikes from a fifth-tier warrior and naturally repel all corruption and curses.

But from the beginning... it had never activated.

It had simply been placed before Emily—nothing more.

And now, the poor little girl was curled up in the corner, trembling. A massive number of insects surrounded her, crawling up and down her body, their hissing mandibles scraping her delicate skin as though savoring a sweet piece of flesh.

Emily covered her mouth tightly. Though terrified to tears, she forced herself not to make a sound—afraid to distract the man she saw still locked in battle with the enemy.

“Damn it!”

Muen’s pupils contracted. He reached for her without hesitation.

The mass of insects split apart down the middle—forming a gaping path, waiting for Muen to step right into the trap.