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

A crow skimmed over the branches, its cries harsh and desolate.

With the Church’s holy scripture tucked under his backside as a cushion, the Limping Priest sat before a gravestone, his ruined leg stretched out carelessly. He tipped his head back into the drizzling rain that veiled his face and exhaled faint, drifting smoke.

He looked as if he were deep in thought. Or perhaps he was thinking about nothing at all, simply letting the familiar, bone-piercing cold soak into him, easing, if only a little, a torn wound in his heart that had festered for decades.

Unfortunately, that too was only an illusion.

Some things could not be healed even by time. They only grew more unbearable, the deeper the guilt in one’s heart sank.

“So, you came?”

The Limping Priest ground out the cigarette in his hand. “That was fast. I thought it would take longer.”

“You reported it directly to us. We didn’t have the luxury of being slow.”

A man in a black uniform, his face cold and hard as forged iron, appeared soundlessly before him. His gaze shifted as he sized up the thoroughly ordinary lame priest in front of him from top to bottom.

“I’m Krete of the Eye of the Saints. Are you the informant?”

“Yes.”

The priest nodded. “That’s me.”

“Why?”

Krete said, “You should know what it means to report something directly to us. Tell me why you did it.”

“Haven’t I already said so?”

The Limping Priest’s face remained calm, not a trace of falsehood on it. He pointed at the graveyard, which looked just as calm as he did.

“There are signs of heretical activity in my cemetery.”

“...”

After he said it, silence fell. Even the crows had disappeared somewhere.

Krete kept watching the priest, and the priest met his gaze without a hint of guilt. For a moment, the atmosphere turned strangely stagnant.

Only countless invisible shadows moved through the cemetery, deepening the chill in the rainy mist.

“There aren’t.”

Krete tilted his head slightly, as if he had just received some kind of confirmation, and said, “My subordinates have already checked the entire graveyard. There are no signs of heretical activity here.”

As the Eye of the Saints, a body created specifically to deal with matters like this, they obviously had not come merely to ask questions. In fact, before he ever stepped foot inside, Krete had already sent out his well-trained men to investigate every corner of the cemetery.

And the result was exactly what he had expected.

Everything was normal.

This was simply an ordinary cemetery. Judging from the traces left behind, the only thing that had happened before was a minor case of corpse-ghoulification. The gravekeeper here could have handled that himself. There had been no need at all to report it to the Eye of the Saints.

“I hope you can provide a reasonable explanation.”

Staring straight into the priest’s eyes, Krete said sternly, “Mocking the Eye of the Saints is a very serious offense.”

“...”

The Limping Priest showed no fear under Krete’s pressure, nor did he answer immediately.

Instead, he fished out a liquor bottle from who knew where and tipped it back, gulping down a large mouthful.

“Urgh—”

He let out a drunken belch, the heavy smell of alcohol washing over them, then drawled with the lazy air of a hopeless drunkard, “No wonder.”

“No wonder what?”

Krete frowned, his impatience deepening.

“No wonder everyone says the Eye of the Saints is nothing but a subsidiary of the Church. And I wasn’t wrong about you either... you people really aren’t very capable.”

“What did you say?”

“Young man, do you know what the Empire’s Silent Bureau would do in a situation like this?”

Provoked by the priest’s words, Krete had been on the verge of snapping. But the instant he heard the words “Silent Bureau,” he forced himself back under control.

“What would they do?” Krete asked coldly, though there was a trace of curiosity in his voice.

“They’d get the report and immediately, without caring about anything else, seal off the entire cemetery. Then they’d turn over every inch of dirt in the place for inspection. They wouldn’t even spare the worms in the ground, all to make absolutely certain it was safe.”

“And if they got it wrong?”

“Then they got it wrong. First they’d cut off the head of the idiot who made a false report, then deal with the rest. But the point is, the moment anything touches this sort of matter, they bring a hundred and twenty percent of their focus to it. Every conclusion is based on repeated personal inspections—several times over, even dozens of times over. Until they’re one hundred percent certain there’s no problem, everyone in the area is treated as a potential heretic and a danger. They wouldn’t rashly come into contact with anyone. Much less...”

The priest paused, then looked meaningfully at Krete standing right in front of him.

“Walk right up and question the informant in person.”

“...”

The veins on the back of Krete’s hand twitched. Almost instinctively, he gripped the black short dagger at his waist.

Terrifying killing intent swirled around him, held back but not gone. Though Krete still had not moved, it was as if in the depths of his eyes he had already rehearsed dozens of ways to cut the old man in front of him into pieces.

Krete had always been steady.

Even he had not expected to be enraged by a few words so easily.

Yes, he knew many of those words were true.

But that did not mean some rotten old bastard had the right to say them.

The Eye of the Saints had guarded the royal capital for so many years. They had worked tirelessly, earned brilliant accomplishments, and without them, the capital would have long since been riddled with infiltration by one evil organization or another.

If not them, then who?

Those security forces whose brains had long since gone soft with corruption and grease?

Krete was furious.

“Mr. Krete.”

At that moment, a gentle voice sounded with perfect timing, and the anger inside him gradually subsided.

“Have you finished your questioning?”

“No.”

Krete released his grip and shifted his gaze to the Great Sister standing some distance away. He thought to himself that if he ignored the rules because of a momentary burst of anger, then the Eye of the Saints really would be as pathetic as this old man claimed.

On the contrary, the more others spoke of them that way, the more they ought to prove themselves through results.

“We’re still questioning him, but it doesn’t look like we’ll get much out ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) of it.”

“Is that so? In that case, may I ask him a few questions?”

“Hm? Did you notice something, Great Sister?”

“No. But since we’re already here, it would be a shame to do nothing at all. According to the file, this gentleman once belonged to the Church as well. Perhaps I might actually be able to get something out of him.”

Great Sister Edeline tilted her head, smiling sweetly.

“...That makes sense.”

Krete thought it over and decided she had a point.

So he stepped aside and said, “Please.”

“Thank you.”

Great Sister Edeline thanked him softly, her voice as pleasant as a spring breeze. Krete felt some of the exhaustion from working through the night fade at that very moment.

So this was a Great Sister of the Church.

That was what he thought.

And while Krete was briefly lost in thought, Great Sister Edeline had already stepped in front of the priest.

“Good evening, Father.”

“Good evening, Sister.”

“Your leg...”

Edeline’s gaze swept over him and naturally came to rest on his crippled leg. Folding her hands together, she said with compassion, “Would you like me to heal it?”

“No need.”

The priest shook his head. “It’s been decades. The bones and muscles have long since set. A leg like this isn’t so easy to fix.”

“I see... what a pity.”

Edeline brushed back the hair at her forehead. “Then may I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

Perhaps because they had once both belonged to the Church, or perhaps because he had been affected by the nun’s gentleness, the priest’s tone softened quite a bit as he spoke.

“All right, then I’ll begin.”

Great Sister Edeline said, “First question. Those unfamiliar corpses you mentioned—did they really appear out of nowhere?”

“Oh?”

The priest raised a brow. “Starting with that right away? I thought you’d begin by doubting whether it was true at all—figuring I’d drunk so much my memory had started failing.”

“Great Sister, you...”

Krete looked over in surprise as well, intending to repeat his earlier conclusion, but Edeline’s expression did not change. She simply kept smiling.

“I’ve already looked at those corpses. They really don’t seem as though they belong to this cemetery.”

“You’ve got a sharp eye, Sister...”

The Limping Priest smiled faintly and took a sip of liquor.

“It’s nothing remarkable. The aura on them is completely at odds with this cemetery. Anyone who investigates deeply enough would notice.”

Great Sister Edeline tilted her head. “So? Your answer?”

“Yes. They appeared suddenly, for no reason.”

“All of them at once?”

“I don’t know. They showed up in places too random to track. I kept running into them by accident, so I can’t say whether they all appeared in my cemetery at once or came in batches.”

“I see...”

Pressing a pale finger lightly to her lips, Great Sister Edeline seemed to think for a moment.

“Then do you know who those corpses were?”

“I don’t. But judging from their clothing and the traces left on them, they were all residents of the royal capital. I just don’t know why they died, or why they suddenly appeared in this cemetery. Or why every single one of them had that expression on their face.”

The priest rubbed his chin.

“Come to think of it, has there been any news lately about residents of the capital going missing one after another? I don’t think the newspapers have printed anything like that...”

“...Then that only proves the city is peaceful right now. The corpses’ sudden appearance must have some other cause, and it certainly isn’t the work of heretics. Isn’t that right?”

Great Sister Edeline smiled again, perfect as ever, like the mild noon sun—never scorching, yet capable of giving people an overwhelming sense of reassurance.

After another round of strange, vaguely off-key questioning that made little immediate sense, Great Sister Edeline seemed to have gotten the answers she wanted. She rose and turned to Krete.

“Oh, right, Mr. Krete. A message just came from the Church. It seems something terrible has happened in the South District. They’re hoping you can send some men over to support them.”

“What? The South District?”

Krete froze. “Then why haven’t I received any message about it?”

“This order came directly from the Church, not from the upper ranks of the Eye of the Saints, so it was passed through me. Please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Krete.”

“No... of course I’m not misunderstanding. It’s just...”

Krete frowned. “The South District—why would they need...”

“I heard they’re short on manpower.”

Edeline played absently with an unruly strand of hair and, apparently for convenience, simply braided it into place with deft fingers.

“Of course, since you aren’t members of the Church, I won’t force the matter if you’re unwilling, Mr. Krete. It’s just that the bishop... well, he can be rather difficult, and last time he already seemed just a little dissatisfied with your side...”

“No, Sister, you joke. It’s not that I’m unwilling. I’m only concerned about whatever happened over there.”

Krete gave a bleak, bitter smile. Faced with an order he had no real choice but to obey, he once again felt the helplessness of being a “subsidiary.”

Still, in truth, this was nothing extraordinary. At a time like this, with everyone stretched thin, it was common for one district or another to come up short on manpower. He himself had received help from churches in other sectors during the earlier purge of a certain heretic.

He had no reason—and no standing—to refuse.

“I’ll arrange the personnel immediately.”

From the corner of his eye, Krete surveyed the surroundings. The cemetery was calm. The so-called heretics had already been confirmed not to exist. And now there was a Great Sister of the Church personally stationed here as well. It did not seem as though there was any real problem left on this side.

So then most of the manpower should be sent where it was more urgently needed.

Krete lifted a hand and lightly pinched the small voice-transmission magic device in his ear, preparing to issue orders to the subordinates hidden all around them in the dark...

But then he suddenly noticed that the old gravekeeper in the distance was looking at him strangely.

His eyelids drooped half-shut. The corners of his mouth were slightly lowered, as though he were smiling and not smiling at all, while his cheek twitched faintly.

To put that bizarre expression plainly...

He looked like he was staring at a complete idiot.

“Young man.”

The priest took another drink and spoke lazily.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be standing there like a fool, carrying out orders. I’d already be thinking about how to run.”

“Hah?”

Krete had lost count of how many times he’d frowned by now. “What kind of drunken nonsense are you talking about?”

“Ah. You really aren’t professional enough, are you? Have you still not realized... that there’s something wrong with this Sister standing beside you?”

“Watch your mouth!”

Krete snapped, “First you insult the Eye of the Saints, and now you insult the Church? Old man, do you realize you’ve already crossed the line?”

“Crossed the line? Hasn’t that line already been crossed?”

The priest rubbed the thick book beneath his backside and turned toward the Great Sister beside him, who still wore the same smiling expression.

“After all, if someone desecrated the holy scripture right in front of a Great Sister of the Church, then by all normal logic I should already have been pinned to the ground. But...”

He looked at her in confusion.

“Why does this Great Sister seem so calm about it?”

“...”

The atmosphere fell silent once more, so silent it felt as if one could trace the strands of white mist drifting over the rows of gravestones.

Krete’s heart jolted.

At once, his entire body went on guard.

He actually felt that this old drunken lunatic might have a point. Great Sister Edeline was a Great Sister of the Church. How could she possibly ignore something like the desecration of holy scripture?

Could it be that she—

“No!”

Krete came to himself and barked out, “What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Great Sister Edeline was personally sent by the Church as a special advisory supervisor. She has the Church’s credentials and the official documents issued from above. If you’re saying Great Sister Edeline has a problem, then are you also saying the Church—and even the Kingdom’s upper ranks—have a problem too?”

Ridiculous.

To think he had almost been led around by such twisted sophistry.

If Great Sister Edeline had shown no reaction to the desecration of holy scripture, it was surely only because she was too gentle to bear seeing a crippled old man punished for it.

“But I’m not that kind.”

Krete’s face darkened as he walked toward the priest.

“Old man, you’ve obstructed official business again and again, and you’ve openly insulted both the Eye of the Saints and the Church. I have the authority to pla—”

“Pfft...”

But in the end, he never managed to arrest the criminal guilty of blasphemy.

Because before he could reach him, a crimson flower had already bloomed in the cemetery, beautiful and terrible.

Krete’s eyes went blank. First he looked at the priest, who still wore that same expression, the one he reserved for fools.

Then he lowered his gaze and looked at the hand that had pierced through his abdomen.

It was a slender, pale hand, now stained red.

That hand had once folded before him in prayer to the goddess.

That hand had once brushed back its hair before him, lovely and graceful.

And now it was so cold.

So sharp.

“Great Sister... you... why...”

“Oh my...”

The voice that answered him was languid and strange, stripped of every trace of its former gentleness and dignity.

“This identity really is wonderful. I don’t have to do anything at all. Just by standing on the shore, I can watch one stupid little fish after another jump so amusingly in front of me.”