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

“You’re overthinking it, Father Emperor. I am nothing more than a princess with no real authority. From an outsider’s perspective, my identity may indeed seem like something that could be made much of, but in reality, what actual influence can I exert over the situation?”

“My thoughts are not important. Or rather, they are not nearly as important as you imagine them to be.”

Celicia rose to her feet. Her always cool and exquisitely beautiful face showed not the slightest ripple of emotion, as if Aldrich III’s words had failed to stir the frozen lake of her heart in even the smallest way.

She bowed slightly toward the old man lying on the bed:

“Then this daughter will not disturb Father Emperor’s rest any longer. I have prepared some nourishing medicine for you—it will be sent over shortly. Please take good care of yourself. Your safe well-being is what is best for this nation.”

“Hah... you really are, as always, flawless enough that no one can find fault with you.”

Aldrich III waved his hand helplessly. “Go on. As for that order of house arrest, just take it as a joke from me. After all, there’s no way it could actually stop you.”

“Father Emperor exaggerates. How would this daughter ever dare to disobey your command?”

Celicia performed one final, gentle salute.

“This daughter takes her leave.”

Celicia walked out of the room.

Everything returned to silence.

Not long after, however, a figure crept in on tiptoe, holding a silver tray steadily in both hands. On it rested a bowl of medicinal soup, still steaming with heat.

“This is the medicine that little Celicia prepared for you. I brewed it personally, you know.”

The figure set the bowl beside Aldrich III’s bed, looking expectant. At that very moment, from the shadows, a hand reached out, pinching a silver needle that shimmered with magical light.

The needle dipped lightly into the soup, testing it. Only after confirming it was not poisoned did it withdraw.

The figure immediately grew displeased at the sight. A round, plump backside plopped down onto Aldrich III’s imperial couch without ceremony, and a loud complaint followed:

“Hey, Aldrich, what do you mean by that? Are you seriously suspecting even your own daughter?”

“I believe my daughter. I just don’t believe you.”

“You don’t believe me?”

A massive bear head leaned in close. Those jet-black little eyes brimmed with an overwhelming sense of grievance, as if suffering some great injustice.

“Aldrich, how can you do this? I’m your own uncle! Back then, I was the one who raised you, spoonful of shit and piss and all. When you were still running around bare-assed, I—”

“Enough!”

Aldrich III’s voice sank.

“Orlanriel, if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’ll have someone throw you out!”

“Tsk, tsk. All grown up now, wings hardened, no respect left for an uncle.”

Pink Bear muttered under a breath, clearly indignant.

Aldrich III had long since grown accustomed to the nonsense this despicable thing spouted. There was nothing to be done about it anyway, so it was best treated as though unheard. With that, Aldrich III silently lifted the bowl, tested the temperature with a small sip, and then drained the medicinal soup in one go.

The intense bitterness made him frown slightly.

Yet the dense vitality brought by the medicine did, indeed, lend a bit of color back to his pallid complexion.

Pink Bear looked at him and suddenly let out a sigh.

“Look at yourself. You’re almost older than me now.”

“If you know you’re old, you shouldn’t be acting like an old bull craving tender grass. How does it feel, getting involved with someone who ought to be calling you Uncle?”

Aldrich III shot back mercilessly.

“Who—who’s an old bull craving tender grass?! I’m only... only just a little over twenty years older than her, all right? Is that really such a huge gap?”

Pink Bear thumped its chest in grief, face full of tragic indignation. “And what do you mean by ‘get involved’? That damned woman came at me on her own—I can’t even get rid of her! Because of her, I haven’t even dared to look at my treasured Saintess photo albums lately!”

“Seems that former Saintess really did help loosen that knot in your heart quite a bit.”

Aldrich III set the bowl aside and cast a glance over, only for his gaze to instinctively drop to his own hands.

As he raised them, his sleeves slid down naturally, revealing half of a wrist.

Upon that wrist were cracks like shattered porcelain, shocking to behold, creeping relentlessly upward into the sleeve.

Aldrich III withdrew his hand, hiding those fractures once more.

Pink Bear had seen it. Another sigh followed. All the forced indignation from before dissipated with that breath, leaving behind a heavy weight.

“You shouldn’t have rushed it like this, Aldrich.”

“It wasn’t rushed. This was part of the plan to begin with. Otherwise, I would not have cut down with that sword half a year ago.”

“But the Empire isn’t rotten yet... You deliberately let those people stir things up like this. All you’re doing is shaking the very foundation of the Empire.”

“When the moment truly comes that it rots, it will already be too late.”

Aldrich III broke into another painful coughing fit, unfolding a handkerchief and staring at the vivid red of the blood staining it.

“This is my only chance—and the Empire’s only chance. You, me, and my elder sister who died so early... weren’t we all striving for this chance? Orlanriel, I have no road to retreat left. Neither do you.”

Pink Bear fell silent.

Yet beneath that ridiculous pink skin suit, it was as if thick, roiling, fetid blood continued to flow without end...

“Yes. None of us have a way back.”

From the bear’s mouth extended a furry hand holding a cigar. It took a melancholy puff, smoke drifting lazily out through its eyeholes.

“Oh right. I don’t dare look at Saintess albums lately, but the noble young lady photo collection I recently acquired isn’t bad either. The kind with very large chests. Want some?”

“Get out.”

......

......

Celicia followed the path she had come from, strolling along as if unhurried.

Just as her father had said, no one came to restrict her freedom any longer. The Thorn Legion’s deputy commander who had escorted her earlier had also taken the excuse of having other matters to attend to and departed.

For a royal princess like Celicia, preferring to act alone like this—at most accompanied only by Veil—was exceedingly rare, even eccentric.

The maids and guards moving through the palace were well aware of this princess’s disposition. Each offered a respectful salute from afar, not daring to step forward to chat or curry favor.

Celicia nodded back to every one of them.

Still pondering the deeper meaning behind her father’s earlier questions, Celicia turned a corner in the corridor and suddenly heard a burst of commotion.

A large group of maids, guards, and well-dressed nobles escorted a young man as they walked toward her.

“Ah, Celicia.”

The young man greeted her with visible delight the moment he spotted her. Those around him immediately stopped their animated conversation, placing hands to their chests in salute.

“Greetings, Princess.”

“Mm. Greetings.”

Celicia looked at the young man with his frivolous bearing, an arm still wrapped around a shy noble young lady in his embrace. Her willow brows knit imperceptibly for an instant before swiftly smoothing out again. She gathered her skirt and dipped into a slight curtsey.

“Greetings, Imperial Brother Andrew.”

“Haha, just call me Imperial Brother. Why be so distant?”

Celicia’s imperial brother—the second son of the current Emperor Aldrich III, a handsome man named Andrew—smiled as he spoke.

“Of course.”

The corners of Celicia’s lips lifted in a perfectly courteous curve.

“It’s just that, for Cia, there is more than one Imperial # Nоvеlight # Brother. Calling you that... may end up causing a bit of confusion.”

“......”

Andrew’s smiling expression stiffened at once. Whatever thought crossed the mind caused a flash of humiliated anger to surface in his eyes.