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

“I didn’t expect that this so-called three-party joint hearing would actually mean Her Majesty, the Swordbearer, and a major figure from the Church of Life all personally came to supervise this trial.”

Trasweir let out a long breath. With people of that caliber watching him, even he felt enormous pressure.

This was all beyond his expectations, but... it didn’t change anything.

He believed true justice would not be swayed by anything, even if the Pope himself came.

Trasweir knocked the gavel and announced with a solemn expression:

“Since everyone is here, then we will begin the trial. First—”

“Wait, Your Honor.”

“Hm? Defendant, what is it?”

Trasweir frowned before he could proceed, looking at Muen, who was clearly not quite right.

“I...”

Muen’s face had suddenly gone much paler. A strained smile was forced onto his lips as he kept wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

He opened his mouth. Under three pairs of eyes that did not shift for even a moment, the words “I plead guilty” almost slipped out.

But he held it back.

Confessing would be truly courting death. It still wasn’t time for despair.

That’s right—there was no need to be so pessimistic. The fact that they came in person must mean it was purely to save him.

They heard he was locked up, were extremely worried, and came to personally oversee the trial—maybe even stepping in at the critical moment to rescue him...

Yes. In their hearts, they must be carrying thoughts like that, full of love and tenderness.

As for any other thoughts...

No. Definitely not!

Haha. Definitely not!

How could a beautiful girl possibly have terrifying thoughts?

Beautiful girls only want to cuddle!

“Your Honor, I need to apply for a defense attorney!”

Muen’s expression tightened. He temporarily threw away those ominous thoughts, forced down the sense of impending death in his chest, and put all his attention on handling the trial in front of him.

To be safe, he had to get serious too.

At the very least, he needed someone reliable to wedge into those three lines of sight and help share the pressure.

“Defense attorney?”

Trasweir said unhappily, “Before we began, you never mentioned you wanted counsel. Now that the trial has already started, bringing this up—aren’t you a bit late?”

“I—”

“What’s wrong with it, Grand Judge Trasweir?”

Celicia propped her cheek with one hand and spoke as if casually. “It’s only natural for the defendant to have a defense attorney, isn’t it? Besides, there’s no rule saying you can’t find one during the proceedings. Nothing has been decided yet.”

“This...”

Trasweir frowned. He was displeased that Celicia was interfering with his process, but he couldn’t find any words to refute her.

Because just as Celicia said, the rules did not contain such a clause.

“Fine. Then the defendant will be permitted to find a defense attorney. However, in order not to affect the proceedings, it must be done quickly—”

“No need to make it that troublesome.”

Celicia said, “I already prepared a defense attorney for him.”

“Huh? Really?”

Muen’s eyes widened with joy, and in an instant felt that tsunderes really were the cutest trait in the world.

Sure enough—never mind what the other two were thinking—Celicia definitely came to save him!

Celicia, I really—

Ah, no. The stares from the other side just turned colder. Be a little reserved first.

“No need to thank me. It’s just a small favor.”

Celicia gave a smile that could intoxicate anyone, then clapped her hands.

The Tribunal’s doors swung open.

The defense attorney Celicia had carefully selected—specially to defend Muen, someone said to be extremely reliable—walked in amid a flood of bright light and the slap-slap of crisp, distinctive footsteps.

A single-rim monocle hung from a gold chain, symbolizing deep learning. A formal suit stretched so tight it looked like it was about to burst, highlighting an uncommon presence. And that pink, curly hair slicked back into a full pompadour—representing an unshakable confidence and determination to win.

The figure stopped in front of Muen and extended a hand... no, not a hand.

A bear paw.

“Hello. I’m your defense attorney. You can call me... Mr. Pink.”

“...”

“Ahem. I know you’re deeply moved that I stepped in to help you, but in the Tribunal, breaking down in tears, isn’t that a little—”

“Moved, my ass!”

Muen grabbed Pink Bear’s costume and roared,

“Why is my defense attorney you, you bastard?!”

“How rude.”

Pink Bear calmly flicked Muen’s hand away and gave a wicked smile. “I have a legitimate license, you know. I’ve helped countless people who went astray... no, I mean, countless poor citizens. Believe me—this is what I do. I’m a professional!”

“...”

If he beat Pink Bear to death right now and found another defense attorney, would there still be time?

Muen’s eye twitched.

“Defendant, mind your conduct! This is not a place for insolence!”

Seeing Pink Bear come in, Trasweir’s eyelid also twitched. With a stiff face, he said,

“Since your defense attorney is here, don’t waste time. We will begin the trial. Count Bugaard.”

“Here.”

“Begin your accusation.”

“Understood.”

Count Bugaard smiled faintly.

A sideways glance swept the room. Some details were a bit different from what had been expected, but overall, things were still within control.

Heh. Your Majesty, Your Majesty—do you think dragging out that old thing, Oranriel, will make my scheme collapse at the last second? Are you underestimating me, or overestimating that ridiculous dead bear?

“Regarding my accusation that Muen Campbell colluded with an Evil God, the first thing I will present is this first piece of evidence.”

Count Bugaard signaled, and that evidence was delivered to Trasweir and the others present.

“I believe everyone has already seen this before we began. That’s right—it’s the photograph. That bizarre black flame in the photo: I searched through texts and still couldn’t find any magic or ability similar to it. It’s clearly from an Evil God. And the person in the photo is even more obvious...”

Count Bugaard’s voice rose.

“Muen Campbell!”

“...”

Muen lowered his head and looked at the photograph in his hand.

Now Muen understood why Count Bugaard could stir up such a huge commotion.

The lighting was dim and the face couldn’t be seen clearly, but Muen recognized it at a glance. It really was the scene from when Muen fought that little girl.

Which meant Count Bugaard wasn’t firing blindly. There truly was solid evidence in hand.

But the problem was...

How did Count Bugaard get it?

Back then, when Muen fought the little girl, there was no one else around.

From this strange angle, could it be that at the time, something had been missed—some leftover monster scrap that escaped?

“As for this photograph, does the defendant have anything to say?”

Trasweir glanced at it, seeming to have known about it already, and asked in a flat tone.

“Defamation! Pure defamation!”

Before Muen could even speak, Pink Bear slammed the table and shouted.

“And this kind of thing counts as evidence?”

“This is plainly evidence. Why wouldn’t it count as evidence?”

Count Bugaard’s expression turned cold, and a laugh slipped out in anger. “Loud voices don’t win trials, Duke Oranriel!”

“Hmph. Then let me ask you—when did what’s shown in that photograph happen?”

“Ten days ago, the night of the Berland incident!”

Count Bugaard clearly anticipated this question and answered almost instantly.

“See? I told you you were talking nonsense!”

Pink Bear sneered. “Everyone knows that some time ago, Muen Campbell was dispatched to the Northern Territory to support disaster relief. Muen wasn’t in Berland at all!”

“Muen came back early!”

“Evidence? Evidence? You say Muen sneaked back early—where’s the evidence for that?”

Pink Bear twisted at the hips and actually ran straight up to Count Bugaard, making faces.

“You say Muen returned early, but do you have evidence? On the other hand, evidence Muen was in the Northern Territory—there’s as much as you want. Muen was there directing relief, throwing money around, and becoming deeply welcomed and loved by the locals. That stuff is easy to check.”

“Heh. Directing relief and throwing money around doesn’t necessarily require Muen to be there in person. It only requires using Muen’s name.”

“But you can’t prove that it was Muen Campbell!”

Pink Bear shoved right up close, nostrils practically in Count Bugaard’s face, and said arrogantly,

“With a piece of trash where you can’t even see the face clearly, what can you prove?”

“Is that so?”

Count Bugaard calmly wiped the spit off the face. “How do you know I don’t have clearer photographs?”

“Huh? You do?” Pink Bear froze.

“If I can stand here, then of course I have further proof.”

“Oh.”

Pink Bear happily climbed back over the railing, returned to Muen’s side, and very politely extended a hand toward Count Bugaard.

“My sincere apologies. I went a bit too far just now. In that case, please go ahead...”

“...”

That damned bear.

At that moment, Muen covered the face. Out of sheer humiliation, Muen almost had the urge to beat this defense attorney to death first.

“In any case, this is the new photograph.”

Count Bugaard submitted new evidence again.

At the moment it was delivered, Count Bugaard’s eyes flicked sideways, wanting to read something from Celicia’s face.

But Celicia was still perfectly calm, as if Celicia hadn’t realized at all that these steps were gradually nailing down Muen Campbell’s guilt.

Looks like the pressure still wasn’t enough.

“This photograph...”

Everyone’s attention fell on it again.

This photo was extremely similar to the one before—dim surroundings, blurry motion—but it was a bit clearer. So the handsome man wreathed in black flames in the photo...

There was no doubt.

It was Muen.

Whether it was the short blond hair or the handsome face, the distinctiveness was extremely high. It was hard not to recognize.

Only that slightly ferocious expression made Muen’s aura completely different from how Muen looked now, more vicious and grim.

Trasweir nodded slightly. In Trasweir’s view, based on this photograph, the accusation of colluding with an Evil ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) God had gained a bit more credibility.

“So...”

Pink Bear, having also looked at the photo, leaned in close to Muen and lowered the voice.

“You hid the face for so long. How did you slip up at exactly this moment?”

“What could I do?”

Muen answered honestly. “It was the final battle. If I still didn’t show my face then, how was I supposed to play the hero and save the beauty? You can’t expect me to get princess-carried by Celicia with someone else’s face... no, to be carried by Princess Celicia.”

“...Makes sense.”

After a moment of silence, Pink Bear slapped Muen’s shoulder hard.

“I strongly agree.”

“...”

Muen rolled the eyes.

For some reason, being agreed with by Pink Bear made Muen feel inexplicably annoyed.

“Then, regarding this photograph, does the defendant—and the defense attorney—have anything to say?”

Trasweir asked.

“Yes! Of course!”

Pink Bear immediately raised a hand high, like an elementary school kid eager to speak in class.

“I also have evidence!”

“Let me say this in advance: if what you’re going to submit is still evidence that Muen Campbell wasn’t in Berland, it’s useless. Because with this photograph showing black flames, whether Muen was in Berland or not cannot prove Muen did not collude with an Evil God.”

It seemed Trasweir had also realized Pink Bear’s unreliability, because Trasweir spoke with a heavy warning.

“I know, I know. Of course I wouldn’t be that stupid. So what I’m providing is different evidence.”

Pink Bear grinned smugly, looking completely confident.

Soon, that evidence was placed in front of Trasweir.

Trasweir frowned again.

This wasn’t a photograph. It wasn’t a document or a dossier either, but...

An art album?

With a trace of doubt, and an inexplicable curiosity, Trasweir opened the album whose cover had been wrapped tightly, and then saw—

Big breasts.

A slim waist.

Long legs.

Black stockings.

White stockings.

A maid outfit.

And...

Censored blur.

A whole lot of censored blur.

Trasweir’s vision went dark. Hot blood rushed to the head, and the head jerked back instinctively.

Trasweir thought it had to be a mistake. How could someone submit something this filthy in a sacred Tribunal?

Trasweir had sat in this position for decades and had never encountered anything like it.

So Trasweir closed the eyes, then opened them.

...It was still censored blur.

“You bastard! In a serious courtroom, what the hell did you submit?!”

Trasweir slammed the “album” shut and shouted.

“This is not ‘the hell’!”

Pink Bear folded the arms and rebutted righteously.

“This is my treasured photo collection!”

“And at the same time, this is exactly the evidence I’m submitting!”

“Evidence? What kind of evidence is this?”

Trasweir was so furious the mustache practically stood up. The chest was almost about to explode. No matter how Trasweir thought about it, a pornographic photo album could not possibly have anything to do with the case at hand.

Trasweir pointed at Pink Bear and roared,

“You bastard—you dare mock—”

“Ha?”

All of a sudden.

A violent wind rushed in, instantly swallowing Trasweir’s words.

And when Trasweir snapped back to awareness, a huge spiked club had smashed down beside the body, shattering half the desk in front of Trasweir.

At some point, Pink Bear had already appeared right in front of Trasweir—one foot planted on the desk, one hand braced on the knee—looking down from above.

“I submit evidence seriously, and you refuse to handle it seriously.”

Bright light poured down from above, carving a stern, savage outline into that bear face.

“You little punk...”

“Are you defiling the Tribunal’s sanctity?”