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

“How lively. It’s been a very long time since this city was this lively.”

Archbishop Ision lifted a corner of the curtain and looked out at the noisy, crowded masses on both sides of the road, sighing with emotion.

Magnificent carriages, solemn ceremonial escorts, and a great palanquin veiled in gauze passed slowly down the center of the street. The chant of hymns drowned out the bell tolling in the distance, but it could not drown out the excited cheers of the royal capital’s residents lining both sides.

The Saintess had not yet arrived. This was only the procession going to receive her.

And yet, once word spread throughout the city that the Saintess herself would soon pass through in procession, believers gathered of their own accord all along this route—from the front square of the Holy Mist Palace to every street and alley of Saint Vic Avenue, from the steps of Saint Blancfazesiya Cathedral to nameless slums no one cared to remember. Every devotee of the Goddess came here. The rain could not dampen their fervor. They murmured the scripture under their breath, praised the Goddess, and waited for the Saintess, the Goddess’s representative in this world, to bring down a miracle upon the city and show the way forward to the Goddess’s most devout flock.

For a moment, the dark clouds of war had been swept entirely out of this city.

It was as though the people had already forgotten the front lines, where victory had been advancing step by step; forgotten the hateful Empire; forgotten even more the even more hateful sinner who had started the war.

All they wanted was to feel the Holy Light.

To receive its cleansing.

“Even if the higher-ups in the Kingdom only let them hear good news, they have still lived through war. They still worry for family members at the front, and for supplies growing tighter by the day. At a time like this, only the radiance of the Goddess can make them forget their troubles.”

The young nun standing behind Archbishop Ision folded her hands before her chest. She too was looking forward to seeing the Saintess with her own eyes. According to rumor, the new Saintess truly lived up to her title of the Pure Saintess—a gentle, holy beauty beyond compare.

“So this is why the Goddess exists...” Archbishop Ision stroked his beard and suddenly smiled in a way that carried a deeper meaning. “Even if the Goddess cannot stop war, as long as she can make people believe they will enter Her embrace after death, that is enough.”

“Arch... Archbishop Ision?”

The young nun’s voice shook at once. What he had just said was a little too irreverent.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Think of it as a bit of grumbling.”

Archbishop Ision shook his head, returning to his usual gentle benevolence.

“By the way, Fubeka, has anything come in from the Holy Mist Palace?”

“Yes, yes!”

The young nun named Fubeka hurriedly pulled a little booklet from the valley between breasts far more ample than her age suggested, then flipped through it in a fluster.

“Let me see... someone sent word from His Majesty just now that he is also greatly anticipating the arrival of the Saintess, so he hopes the evening banquet can be held in the Ritual Hall of the Holy Mist Palace. At that time, all the nobles of the royal capital will be in attendance.”

“The Ritual Hall...”

Archbishop Ision’s pale brows lifted.

“That is not exactly a convenient place for a banquet. Was that woman behind this again?”

“That... I’m not sure. Should we agree?”

“His Majesty has spoken personally, so there is naturally no reason to refuse. In any case...”

“In any case?”

“Never mind. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. The Office of Public Order hopes that Archbishop Ision will not go personally to receive the Saintess. The roads are already congested enough as they are. To ensure the Saintess can enter the city smoothly, they have even dispatched a large number of people to clear out the area within five hundred meters of the city gate. But if you also lead the cathedral staff out to receive her, all of that will become meaningless. And with the weather this bad, the procession likely would not reach the Holy Mist Palace until dusk.”

“That does make things a bit troublesome. I had originally wanted to go in person... after all, it will be my first time meeting the new Saintess.”

“Then shall I ask the Office of Public Order to make an exception? If they optimize the entry route a little more, I don’t think it would really be blocked all day.”

“No need. Whatever else this place may be, it is still the Kingdom’s royal capital, not the Holy City. Let Her Highness enter the city first, and I will go receive her afterward. I imagine the Saintess, whose reputation since taking office has been one of gentleness and tolerance, will not mind such a small discourtesy from me.”

Archbishop Ision turned and looked at Fubeka seriously.

“Remember this. Do not casually break the rules here.”

“Yes! U-understood.”

Fubeka hastily wrote down the warning in her little booklet, then fumbled for the voice-transmission stone and contacted the Office of Public Order in the royal capital.

Archbishop Ision waited with great patience. Only after Fubeka finished the work in her hands did he speak again.

“By the way, have the things I told you to prepare all been made ready?”

“N-not quite yet...”

“Then hurry. That matter is even more important than receiving the Saintess herself. There must not be the slightest mistake.”

“U-understood!”

Fubeka grew even more flustered. She seemed to forget she was a nun at all and gave a strange little military salute before spinning around and hurrying off.

Archbishop Ision watched her until she disappeared from sight.

No one else remained around him.

Little by little, that gentleness and benevolence faded from his face once more.

“The Saintess... no, more precisely, the Church behind her, has arrived much too quickly.”

Ision murmured in a grave tone.

“Was this that one’s decision? Or only the Judgment Sanctuary’s?”

“But whichever it was, it proves they’ve already discovered something—or at least sensed that something is wrong. Otherwise they wouldn’t have sent those earlier inquiries.”

“In that case...”

He lowered his gaze and stared at the Holy Light cross ring on his finger, glowing with sacred radiance.

“I can only act one step ahead...”

...

...

“Wow... it’s so lively!”

On one of the upper floors of an upscale restaurant along the street—

As a prime vantage point from which one could directly watch the Saintess enter the city, the private rooms here had been driven to absurd prices in only a few short hours. Some believers were even willing to sell everything they owned just for the chance to get a little closer to Saintess Liya.

But no matter how fiercely ordinary people fought over it, the very best location had long since become something money alone could not buy. Rumor had it that the room with the finest view had been reserved by the now-famous Beast of Posies in the western district. Quite a few people openly and secretly resented that “upstart,” but in light of the Beast’s recent exploits—and the great figure standing behind him—almost no one dared challenge him at a time like this.

So the room was quiet.

Only two people occupied it.

“I haven’t seen this city this lively in a long time.”

Pero stood on the balcony, bracing himself on the railing and leaning half his body out over it.

“This is the first time I’ve thought rain could feel this pleasant.”

“In a long time?”

Muen toyed with the teacup in his hand.

“You mean you’ve seen it just as lively before?”

“Of course. But that was...”

As he spoke, Pero’s voice caught, as though some bad memory had been stirred up. His expression dimmed slightly as well.

“Forget it. That wasn’t a good scene. No point bringing it up.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

With a half-smile, Muen swept his gaze over Pero’s childish face.

“So at your age, you already have deep, complicated stories that outdo grown men’s?”

“Hmph. Who doesn’t have a past they don’t want to look back on? That has nothing to do with age.”

Apparently done staring outside, Pero hopped down from the railing and came back to the table. From who knew where, he produced a bag and started rapidly stuffing the plates of pastries from the table into it.

He moved with astonishing speed. By the time Muen reacted, the plates were already so clean they practically shone like mirrors.

“Hey.”

Muen’s mouth twitched.

“Haven’t you gotten more and more shameless lately?”

“What’s the big deal? They’re just pastries.” Pero curled his lip.

“Do you have any idea what pastries here cost? The price would be enough to buy you outright and make you my servant.”

“You’re wrong!”

Pero declared it with total confidence.

“Prices in the royal capital have gone crazy lately. Even if you sold me, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay for these pastries!”

“And you still dare—”

“So, do you want to reconsider my sister’s proposal?”

Blinking wide eyes, Pero said shyly,

“I think you’re a decent enough person. I could reluctantly agree to let you become my brother-in-law...”

“Get lost, get lost, get lost! So this is why you’ve been sticking to me? Keep dreaming.”

Muen snapped, “Do you know that if those words of yours got out, your sister’s corpse would be fished out of some nameless little river tomorrow?”

“Bleeh. I’m not scared. You can’t scare me!”

Pero stuck out his tongue.

“My sister is great. I’m telling you, you’d better think about it carefully, or you’ll regret it!”

“I—”

Muen had just been about to lose his temper and throw this little brat with no filter straight out of the place, but Pero apparently had rich experience in running away. He simply # Nоvеlight # jumped out the window on his own initiative.

After landing on the eaves of the next floor down, he turned and made another face at Muen.

“Think about it properly! My sister is waiting for your answer!”

With that, he bounded left and right across the rooftops and vanished into the alley in no time at all, nimble as a wildcat.

“What a menace. Brats are a headache no matter where they are.”

Muen sighed. Looking at the empty plates—except for the single pastry Pero had deliberately left behind—he shook his head helplessly.

“But... compared to dying pitifully in the fire, this is a good thing, isn’t it?”

Even if this one was false, the real him had long since...

Knock knock.

A sudden rap at the door interrupted Muen’s thoughts.

“Come in.”

Creak...

The door opened gently, and a figure stepped into the room.

It was a man. A very ordinary man, one with no distinguishing features at all, the kind who would disappear into a crowd and never be noticed again.

“I am Mom, a member of Scout Team Thirty-Five.”

The man gave Muen a somewhat stiff nod of greeting.

“Good morning... Lord Bruce.”

“The fact that you found this place means... there’s a response?”

Muen lightly bit into the pastry in his hand. As expected of a famous high-end restaurant, even at a time when supplies for the lower classes were gradually growing scarce, the quality of the pastries had not suffered in the slightest.

Muen did not like them, though.

They were too sweet.

“Yes.”

Mom took out an exquisite square box and set it in front of Muen.

“This was personally entrusted to me by the Judgment Archbishop... her response.”

“...”

Seeing the grave look on Mom’s face, Muen’s own expression grew serious as well. He swallowed the pastry in one bite, straightened up, and slowly opened the box.

Sacred radiance spilled out, only to be swiftly confined within a very small space, without the slightest trace escaping.

Inside the box lay a golden dagger.

It was so exquisitely made that it resembled a work of art, yet for some reason it immediately made Muen’s heart pound with alarm.

“This is...”

“It is similar to your weapon. It was forged from a fragment of the Holy Sword and possesses a powerful and highly unusual effect.”

“An unusual effect?”

“Yes.”

Mom answered carefully, one word at a time.

“Though it only grants a single chance, it will allow you... to kill a Crowned one across ranks.”