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

Goddamn money-power...

Watching his treasured defensive magi-tech tools shatter one after another, Sineel felt his heart gradually turning cold; only the warm bone flute in his hand could bring him a sliver of comfort.

That guy was like this too.

And those other people were like this too.

Every one of them always acting so high and mighty.

So what if they have money?

Is money supposed to make them special?

Does money give them the right to treat others like clowns?

His father’s business went bankrupt, left in despair; his mother sought another man, abandoned the family; he supported himself alone until now, finished his magic studies on loans, joined the Royal Mage Corps with excellent grades, earned his current status...

Was any of that because of money?

No!

“There are things in this world that money can’t do!”

Sineel roared.

Endless motes of light burst out from the long flute in his hand.

The flickering motes leapt like spirits.

The flute-song echoed again, but this time all of its earlier gentleness was gone.

A massive tide of mana was poured by Sineel into the long flute; the flute-sound surged, like furious waves that suddenly turned into a tsunami devouring everything!

The spreading flute-song finally engulfed the entire street, locking onto that man’s position. Even if that man’s speed was still beyond the range of his dynamic sight, this strongest magic of his already filled every possible place the man could set foot on.

When a spell accumulates to a certain degree, it becomes terrifying.

Not to mention—this was his strongest spell.

—Borosiri’s Prelude of Destruction!

Hum—

As Sineel merged the final note into the magic, a terrifying wave of sound spread outward with him as the center.

In that moment, neither audience nor performer could hear a single sound, because the frequency had completely surpassed the range human ears could perceive.

All anyone could do in this silent pantomime was watch as the street, the walls, the ground... anything with physical form was shattered inch by inch, turning into impossibly fine dust drifting through the air.

It was a massive spell like an explosion, yet far more magnificent and horrifying than a simple blast.

No matter how strong the body, nothing could survive this spell—its terrifying vibrations could reduce even steel to powder!

Blood trickled from Sineel’s nose as he gazed with excitement at the dust-filled center...

See ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) that? So what if you have money...

Before absolute power...

“Hmm?”

Sineel’s expression froze.

The excitement on his face stalled like a crashed device, slowly stiffening.

Because as the dust was blown away by the breeze, a golden barrier dazzling enough to blind a dog slowly appeared in his field of vision.

“Impossible, this is impossible...”

Sineel couldn’t believe it.

Because he knew better than anyone how terrifying his own magic was. The power to destroy two entire streets in an instant—this was only the prelude.

Even if he could only use this prelude, even if he only knew this prelude, this spell—created by a certain Truth-rank Grand Magus—was specifically designed to crush defensive techniques. Omnipresent soundwaves that could pierce through almost any defense.

Except...

As all dust cleared, Sineel saw the spherical golden radiance enveloping the man completely.

So pure. So holy. It made one think of the first ray of dawn upon a cathedral.

“Yes, money can’t buy everything—such as sincere love...”

Within the Holy Light barrier labeled 【Saintess-Exclusive Supply】, Muen gazed deeply at the Goddess statue in his hand:

“But unfortunately... I have love too.”

Sineel: “...”

“Someone from the Church?”

After experiencing humiliation twice in one night, Sineel’s cheek twitched.

That golden radiance was undeniably Holy Light from the Church, but since all Holy Light originated from that exalted Goddess and carried the same aura, Sineel couldn’t possibly distinguish which Church big-shot had bestowed it.

Unless... the man himself was...

“The Church is meddling in Belrand’s affairs too?”

Sineel muttered under his breath, clutching the now-hot bone flute—his heart already filled with retreat.

Damn that robin—he actually deceived him. This was his so-called Lower District street thug?

A Lower District street thug could casually pull out disposable magi-tools worth over a million?

A Lower District street thug could casually pull out a divine item blessed by the Life Goddess’s Holy Light?

To hell with “street thug”!

You fooled me first—don’t blame me for breaking our agreement!

The long notes leapt again, except this time the flute-sound was especially ethereal.

As faint mist drifted silently, Sineel’s figure began turning dim and unreal, slowly disappearing from this place...

“You think... after I already showed that kind of speed, you can leave here intact? You’re underestimating me.”

Cold killing intent clung to him like a shadow. Sineel’s body trembled, and his fading figure reappeared sharply.

A familiar, leisurely voice rang out.

But this time, it wasn’t a block away—it was... right behind him.

Right behind, so close that the sharp, icy object pressing into his waist could pierce his body at any moment.

Cold sweat seeped down Sineel’s forehead. He made no pointless resistance; before Muen behind him even managed to throw out another threatening line, Sineel had already raised his hands.

“Don’t kill me, I surrender!”

“...”

...

...

“Hah... as expected of that man, the quality of these magic scrolls is truly high.”

At the base of a wall in a small alley, Rat King Sam savored the last drop of fine wine, stretching in satisfaction.

Under the powerful healing magic, his injuries had nearly recovered; while some hidden wounds would need long-term adjustment, his normal mobility was no longer affected.

He rose, straightened his clothes, his small eyes rolling about.

“Since I’ve recovered, I should show up and help, otherwise how will I demonstrate my loyalty...”

“I’ve already seen your loyalty, Sam.”

Before he could even take the first step, that familiar solemn voice came from not far away.

Sam’s expression tightened and he quickly lowered his head.

“Congratulations on your triumphant return, esteemed Mr. Bruce. Your speed is much faster than I imagined.”

“You rascal, no wonder you manage to thrive in the Lower District.”

Muen chuckled and tossed the person tied up like a sticky rice dumpling casually beside Sam.

Being thrown like a sack, Sineel groaned in pain, anger flashing across his face.

But remembering the situation, he forcefully crushed his resentment.

This wasn’t cowardice.

This was endurance.

As an elite Royal Mage, as long as he stayed alive, he would definitely have a chance for revenge!

“This is the guy who ambushed me?”

Sam widened his eyes, slightly shocked as he looked at Sineel lying on the ground.

“To capture such a powerful mage in such a short time—Mr. Bruce, you truly are...”

“Time is tight. Save the flattery for later.”

Muen sat heavily on the chair Sam had dragged from who-knows-where, looking down at Sineel.

“Speak, Mage. Your name, status, and who you obey.”

“...Name is Silni.”

Sineel hesitated for a long while before squeezing out a few words through his nose.

“My status is with the Origin Tower’s—”

Clang—

Before he finished, a sharp arrow sliced past his cheek and nailed into the wall.

“I don’t have time for nonsense. If you don’t want to speak honestly, I’ll have to use other methods to open your mouth.”

At this moment, Muen still wore that seemingly harmless smile, but in his eyes flowed a darkness enough to make even souls tremble.

Sineel shuddered; his last bit of resolve evaporated in fear. Gritting his teeth, he said:

“Sineel. Sineel Zegon. I’m a newly inducted mage of the Royal Mage Corps.”

“Royal Mage Corps?”

Muen’s gaze hardened.

“As a member of the Corps, His Majesty’s sharpest blade, you’re supposed to obey only His Majesty. Don’t tell me His Majesty personally ordered you to sneak out at midnight to kill Sam, who has nothing to do with you.”

“Speak. Who sent you?”

“I... I don’t know.”

Muen aimed the arrow at his forehead.

“No—wait wait wait, when I say I don’t know, I mean I don’t know the person’s true identity!”

Curling up, Sineel hurriedly said:

“The person controlled a puppet bird, called himself ‘Robin.’ I only helped him because I owed him money and accepted his benefits! So I don’t know who he really is. I only faintly feel he’s connected to some big nobles... multiple nobles... in Belrand!”

“Robin?”

Muen lowered the bolt and tapped his knee.

This guy definitely didn’t have the courage to lie now. Then...

Muen closed his eyes and sank into his inner consciousness.

The Black Book floated in the pitch-black space; at its top, a black sun crowned with a pure-white coronet slowly revolved.

“I want to read the memories of that bug-manipulator. I devoured his soul with the Crimson Flame, so I should be able to, right?”

Muen asked.

The Black Book did not answer.

Only the pages turned.

Dense text appeared on the once-blank pages, countless information flooding into Muen’s mind.

Chaotic scenes, countless silhouettes flickering.

The overwhelming information tore violently at his consciousness.

“Wait wait wait—too fast, I can’t take that—keyword search! Robin!”

Muen shouted.

The pages flipped faster.

Soon the meaningless, disgusting life of the bug-controller vanished; the information stopped on one image.

A white-crested, red-bellied robin perched on a high branch.

It bowed politely and said:

“Bug-controller sir, hunted by the Silent Bureau and nearly driven to despair... would you like to make a deal with the Inner Council?”

...

Muen snapped his eyes open, returning to reality.

“So, the pieces finally connect.”

The one who lured away the Silent Bureau.

The one who wanted to use Old Ghost to regain control of the Lower District.

And...

The one scheming something using His Majesty’s current illness.

A huge net was gradually spreading over Belrand.

“The Inner Council, huh? Sounds just like a noble ballroom—nothing pleasant.”

After a moment of thought, Muen looked back at Sineel.

“I... I already told you everything I know!”

Sineel shrank back but stiffened his neck:

“Even if you torture me, you won’t squeeze anything else out! And torture is illegal!”

“Pfft—”

Sam nearly burst out laughing.

“Forget it.”

Knowing nothing more could be extracted, Muen flicked his hand and released Sineel’s bindings:

“You’re still somewhat useful, so I won’t harm you. But you must return to the Royal Mage Corps, blend in, monitor their movements, and quietly investigate how deeply the Corps has been infiltrated by forces other than His Majesty.”

“Blend in?”

Sineel’s eyes widened:

“You want me to be your dog?”

“What else?”

Muen cast him a slanted, half-smiling glance:

“As a Corps mage, acting without His Majesty’s order is a grave crime. Don’t tell me that ‘acting personally’ nonsense—you’ve practically betrayed His Majesty already.”

“My dear Mr. Sineel, with such a large weakness in my hands... on what basis would you not become my dog?”

“...I refuse!”

Sineel roared, face flushed:

“I, Sineel, learned magic not to become the dog of some suspicious nobody! Even if you hold a weakness over me—”

“There’s a salary. Annual pay: one million.”

“...Shut up. You think a measly million—”

“Full benefits, reasonable work hours, some overtime, year-end bonus.”

“...That still—”

“I’ll cover all materials you need for future promotions and give you a free, high-value magi-tool.”

Muen snapped his fingers:

“Worth several times more than your lousy flute.”

“My lord!”

Sineel placed a hand on his chest and bowed with utter sincerity:

“From this moment on, Sineel Zegon will be your most faithful dog. Please do not hesitate—command me as you wish.”

Muen: “...”

Rat King: “...”

In the chilly night wind, watching Sineel practically about to kneel and wag his tail like a loyal hound, Sam’s expression grew grim.

This guy is a talent. He will likely threaten me in the future. I need to keep an eye on him.

...

“But how do I report back to the robin?”

Already fully embracing his role as Mr. Bruce’s dog, Sineel frowned:

“He also has dirt on me. If he tells the Corps, I’ll be arrested immediately.”

At this, he shuddered.

Only now did he realize how foolish a thing he had done driven by greed.

“Don’t worry. A pawn as useful as you won’t be discarded easily. You just answer truthfully: say Sam was rescued by me. Robin won’t detect any flaw in the truth.”

Muen said:

“Later he’ll definitely assign you other tasks. That’s when you’ll shine.”

“Alright, I understand.” Sineel nodded.

“Then go. If you take too long, it’ll raise suspicion.”

“What about me?” Sam asked even more respectfully:

“Mr. Bruce, the Rat Society might be coveted by Old Ghost right now. We really need your help.”

“Rest assured, I won’t sit back and watch.”

Muen rose, once again gazing at Belrand beneath the night.

“But right now, I need to do something very important.”