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

“What do we do then?”

After a round of ineffective pondering, Muen looked at Celicia.

There was nothing for it—although in the field of illumination spells Muen considered himself peerless, he nonetheless had Campbell brute blood running through his veins, and when it came to magic as a whole, he was simply powerless.

As for Elizabeth’s alchemy domain, it could isolate this interference magic—but once the domain excluded magic, as long as the caster wasn’t currently in the middle of doing something... shameful that they couldn’t pull away from, they would sense clearly the “hollow spot” inside their magic.

This was a different approach from alert-type magic, but it instead highlighted the cleverness of whoever had set these anti-intrusion measures.

At the same time, it made whatever was hidden inside all the more intriguing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be very good at this?”

Facing Muen’s request for help, Celicia merely blinked gently. Her fine, long eyelashes trembled like frost-covered winter branches shaking off snow—icy and immaculate.

“...My deepest apologies. I shouldn’t have shown off earlier.”

Muen’s mouth twitched, but his expression immediately hardened:

“But Celicia, if you don’t help me, I’ll have no choice but to cling to your thigh—literally cling!”

Saying so, Muen actually lunged forward like a starving tiger pouncing, and his target was none other than the black-silk long legs beneath Celicia’s skirt—an entire attitude of Anyway, you don’t dare make a scene here, so you definitely won’t resist.

“......”

Celicia lightly touched her forehead; a trace of helplessness showed on her cool, pretty face.

She gently rotated the parasol in her hand:

“Here. Hold it.”

“Hold it?”

Muen paused a moment, then grabbed Celicia’s soft little hand.

Her hand was small, soft, and a little cold, but extremely pleasant to hold.

And holding her hand, while leaning close like this, even allowed Muen to catch the faint fragrance on the girl’s body.

Celicia’s gaze turned icy:

“I meant hold the handle!”

“Oh. Sorry, misunderstood.”

Muen stiffened his face, pretending he had really just misunderstood, and moved his large hand up to grip the parasol handle above Celicia’s little hand.

“So this parasol really does have something unusual about it?”

Muen asked, knowingly feigning ignorance.

From the very first time he met Celicia, he had already noticed something off about this parasol.

Given Celicia’s personality, even if she were disguising herself, she would never pretend to carry such a cute little parasol just for show.

So this parasol obviously had another purpose.

“This is an ancient relic,” Celicia answered.

“It’s called ‘The Resentment of the Single.’ It can mask presence, and it’s extremely durable in itself, able to serve as a defensive tool. But its true function is—anyone standing beneath the parasol will have their presence completely vanish in the eyes of others.”

“Presence... vanish?”

Muen was slightly stunned. After all, “presence” wasn’t like seeing or hearing—it was a concept that was very difficult to define.

“Yes. Like this.”

Celicia led Muen toward the guarded area.

In the distance, the searchlights continued sweeping back and forth, not letting any part of the darkness go unchecked. After waiting a while, one of those bright beams shone directly across the two of them.

Without question—this was absolutely a level of exposure that any guard should notice.

But not long after, the beam naturally moved away, as if in the guards’ vision, the spot where they had just been... had no people at all. Not even anything unusual.

“Amazing...”

Realizing the strength of this ancient relic, Muen couldn’t help but gasp in admiration.

To be seen, heard, sensed, and yet subconsciously ignored—this surpassed any disguise-type magic by far.

“Even magic gets fooled?”

“Don’t you have ways to slip past alert-type magic? Interference magic and alert magic can’t exist together.”

“Got it. But ‘The Resentment of the Single’—what kind of stupid name is that? Also, I heard ancient relics almost always have side effects. This parasol doesn’t have any, does it?”

Muen narrowed his eyes and asked.

“......”

Celicia was silent for a moment. She turned her small head away and said:

“I naturally don’t know where the name comes from. But side effects... it has them.”

“Wh-what... what is it? It’s not one of those terrifying side effects, right?”

Muen’s eyes widened—his PTSD from being trapped and harmed too many times was already showing early signs of relapse.

“Relax. Ancient relics with high danger levels have mostly been sealed away. The side effect of this parasol isn’t severe. When activated, it merely causes the heart to beat a little faster.”

“What?”

Muen froze, thinking he’d heard wrong.

“I said: heart acceleration.”

Celicia repeated coldly.

But before she finished speaking, Muen’s expression suddenly changed as well.

Because in that instant, he felt his heartbeat speeding up. Clearly, he hadn’t moved much, nor encountered anything emotionally intense, yet the beating from his chest echoed against his eardrums like a little cowhide drum going thump-thump.

Muen let out a light breath, his mouth a bit dry.

He turned his head toward Celicia, and found that the tip of her small, delicate nose was already covered with a thin sheen of fragrant sweat—an involuntary reaction caused by the rapid heartbeat.

And whether it was the irritating rhythm, or the faint scent that was too alluring, or perhaps the blood rolling through his veins stirring something else—in this moment, the faint flush on Celicia’s cheeks made her appear even more enchanting in Muen’s eyes, as if glowing softly.

Muen swallowed:

“It really is only heart acceleration?”

“Only heart acceleration.”

Celicia snapped her head back toward him—her voice icy, but the pounding of her heart had melted a good portion of the frost in her {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} eyes.

Muen judged it was nearly above zero degrees already. Who knew when he would get to see her completely melt again, like when she was fully moved?

“Don’t overthink it. This parasol’s side effect is purely heart acceleration. No mental influence of any kind.”

“Un... understood.”

“Hurry. We only have ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“For one person, it’s fine. But if two people use this parasol at the same time—”

Celicia said coolly:

“If it exceeds ten minutes, the heart will rupture and death will follow.”

Muen: “......”

Now he understood why this parasol was called “The Resentment of the Single.” In ancient times, what overwhelming resentment and bitterness toward couples sharing one umbrella must its creator have harbored to forge something like this?

“Let’s go then.”

Muen followed Celicia, sharing the parasol as they quickly moved through the guarded zone.

“Closer. The parasol’s effect only covers the space beneath it.”

“Yes.”

Sharing one parasol meant they had to stand very close—practically shoulder to shoulder.

The girl’s rapid heartbeat and slightly heavier breathing brushed across whenever their skin briefly touched.

Outside, darkness and light alternated, yet beneath the parasol, a small world untouched by disturbance formed around them.

Muen stole a sideways glance. Though the girl still wore her expressionless, icy façade, who could say that this physiological thundering of the heart wasn’t stirring something just a bit different in her mind?

That ancient single dog sure was a great benefactor.