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

“But... I’m afraid...”

Pero could not quite bring herself to meet that trusting gaze. She could only hide behind her own hands. Those hands were so small, so young. Even though they had already grown many calluses, they still could not bear anything too heavy.

She was afraid that when she tried to hold onto something, it would once again slip away just like before...

“I don’t understand. Why do you think you’ve never done anything, Pero?”

Aviva suddenly grabbed Pero’s hands. That warmth drove away the cold.

“To me... you’re my savior.”

“Huh? Me?”

Pero blinked in confusion.

“Yes.”

Aviva nodded softly.

“You saved me, didn’t you?”

“The one who saved you was Bruce—”

“It was you!”

Aviva held her hands tightly, tightly enough that it almost hurt.

“Before Mr. Bruce, it was you who saved me, and you saved me many, many times. Do you understand?”

“But...”

“You think you failed to save me? No. From the moment you started leaving early and coming home late every single day, using that tiny body of yours to earn money coin by coin, I kept telling myself that I absolutely could not die. Otherwise, all your effort would go to waste. That was the very thing that kept me alive for so long.”

“You think you failed to save that young nun named Nina? No. Without you, Nina would already have died in the orphanage long before Mr. Bruce ever arrived.”

“And even at the very beginning of all this, you think you accomplished nothing? No. You survived. Because you fought so hard to survive, everything afterward became possible.”

“So, Pero... you are not cowardly, and you are not weak. You absolutely have not done nothing.”

“You’ve already done many things. And you should do even more.”

Aviva lowered her head and gently pressed her forehead against Pero’s small one.

“I’ve always believed that, Pero. You shouldn’t stay here. You belong on a far greater, broader stage.”

Although Pero had never said anything, with Aviva’s intelligence, how could she possibly have failed to notice the identity of the little sister she lived beside day after day?

Pero.

Saint Peron.

The guess had simply felt far too distant to her. She had been afraid that if she pointed it out, Pero would drift farther and farther away from her.

But she knew this day would come sooner or later.

A swan meant to soar through the skies should not remain trapped in a tiny pond forever.

“You have your own road to walk, not stay in this little orphanage. True saviors never think of themselves as saviors, and they never care about the title of salvation. They simply... try their best to do what they believe is right, what should be done, just like Mr. Bruce.”

“And there are many people waiting for you, just as I once did.”

“So please, don’t be afraid, my dear Pero. You have more right than most people in this world to stand tall with your head held high.”

“...”

Pero stared blankly at her.

She had never imagined her sister would say such things to her, nor that in her sister’s eyes, she was someone so incredible.

It was as if a spray of starlight had been cast into the depths of her eyes, illuminating the night sky, driving away the cold, dispersing the fear.

“Mm. I understand now, Sis.”

It felt like a thought process that had lasted through several changing seasons, yet when she came back to herself, only a few breaths had passed.

Pero made her decision.

“I’ll go. I’ll face the fate that belongs to me. I’ll go help him. My god has things he must do, and I, as his number one believer, as the first pope of the Black Sun Cult, also have things I must do.”

Pero stood up, leaving that warm lap pillow behind.

And also leaving the place that had sheltered her from wind and rain for years.

Once again, she walked alone into the rainy night.

Just like years ago.

But back then, it had been forced upon her.

This time, it was her own choice.

“Go...” Aviva said, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Mm. Goodbye, Sis.”

“Mm. Goodbye, Pero.”

The two said farewell as if it were just an ordinary morning, as if the still-young girl were once again tying back her long hair and heading into those cramped narrow streets to fight for a sliver of hope for her sister.

But this time, the girl who was no longer so immature was going to face her extraordinary fate.

She was still fighting for a sliver of hope.

Not for one person.

But for this country.

...

“Is this really okay?”

From the shadows, the matron watched the direction Pero had disappeared and asked quietly.

“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to her.”

Aviva pressed a hand against her chest as distant memories surfaced alongside that earlier conversation.

She remembered the first time she had found Pero.

It had been in the shadows of a narrow alley. That child had been filthy from head to toe, dressed in torn silk garments, digging through garbage for food.

It was hard to imagine that a child raised in luxury from birth could accept her fate so quickly, and insist on living on with such stubborn determination even in the most humiliating and lowly manner.

So if Pero could survive even that kind of situation, then even something ten times more dangerous would not defeat her.

She was just that strong.

“I believe in Pero, and I believe in Mr. Bruce. They’ll definitely succeed. Even if I’m just an ordinary girl who can’t understand the great things they’re trying to do, my instincts tell me so.”

“No, I meant another aspect of this.”

The matron’s expression turned strange.

“With how clever you are, surely you’ve noticed what kind of feelings Pero is carrying, right? That’s not just admiration and faith. It’s something... else.”

“...”

Aviva’s expression froze slightly. After a bitter laugh, she sighed.

“That’s even less something to worry about. I already knew. Mr. Bruce and I have always been nothing more than two parallel lines. Maybe there can be brief intersections like this, but in the end, we can never truly reach each other.

“As for Pero... she’s probably the same as me.”

“Oh? Why are you so certain? That kid Pero only dresses poorly most of the time. Her foundation is far better than yours. Once she grows up, she’ll definitely become an outstanding beauty.”

“And as you said, that’s after she grows up.”

Aviva looked at the matron.

“Don’t forget, Pero is only fourteen right now. She’s still underage. I think... Mr. Bruce probably isn’t enough of a beast for that.”

“...True enough.”

The matron thought about it carefully.

That Mr. Bruce probably was not that much of a beast.

Probably...

...

...

“A beast! That Bruce guy is a complete beast!”

“Shut up!”

“Boss, am I wrong? Making us guard a place like this—if that’s not beast behavior, what is?”

“I said... shut the hell up!”

Trof Street. End of the road.

At this moment, a series of temporary defensive lines had already been erected across the broad avenue. Two-meter-high walls combined with various traps formed orderly rows. Seen from above, the place resembled layers of sturdy scales.

But Tyron knew perfectly well these defenses only looked decent on the surface. Even the materials used for the walls had been scavenged on the spot, many nearby houses torn apart and stuffed in as temporary filler. Calling them “solid” was honestly an exaggeration.

“How the hell are we supposed to defend this garbage line?”

Tyron’s trusted subordinate dug his fingers into the cracks in the wall, staring at the dirt that continuously crumbled down. Usually, he obeyed Tyron’s every order without question, but now even he could not help grumbling in dissatisfaction.

And yet, despite that, he did not leave.

Neither did the people gathered behind him tonight.

Because they all remembered the sentence Tyron had spoken when he found them.

“We’re not defending this place for territory, wealth, or power. We’re defending this dying city.”

Heh. Defending.

What a ridiculously ironic word for a bunch of gangsters and thugs.

And yet so many people still chose to follow Tyron.

As long as this city remained, they were still gangsters, still thugs, still people with some standing in this filthy district.

But if they left this place...

Then what were they?

So they refused to leave.

“But even more ironic than gangsters protecting this city is the fact that the people who should be protecting this country are trying to destroy it, while an outsider who should have nothing to do with this place is trying to save it.”

Tyron looked toward Saint Haze Palace behind him and laughed self-mockingly.

“How are we supposed to show our faces and run away after that?”

It’s only two lousy hours.

Then I, Tyron of Posis, will defend it for you.

Tyron silently swore to himself.

“B-Boss, someone’s coming!” his subordinate suddenly shouted while Tyron was lost in thought.

“What? This soon?”

Tyron was startled. According to Mr. Bruce’s earlier deployment and plan, the enemy’s formal assault should still be some time away.

“N-No... not an enemy.”

Behind the barricade, the subordinate cautiously poked half his head out, shielding his eyes with his hand as he stared carefully ahead.

“It looks like... a kid?”

“A kid?”

Tyron froze briefly and leaned out as well.

Just then, a gust of night wind blew through, and he saw a thin little child moving with nimble steps, rapidly approaching through the shadows along the roadside.

“That’s...”

“S-Should we attack?” The subordinate swallowed nervously.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Tyron smacked him across the head.

“You already saw it’s a kid, so what the fuck are you attacking for?”

“Huh? But what if it’s some enemy trick?”

“The enemy needs tricks to deal with little fry like us? Who the hell do you think the actual regular army is here?”

Tyron kicked him again, furious at his stupidity.

“Let the kid in. I know that brat.”

“Oh...”

The subordinate hopped around in pain while baring his teeth and muttering,

“You should’ve said so earlier. Looks like Boss got infected by that Mr. Bruce too and turned into a well-dressed beast...”

...

One minute later, Tyron met Pero behind the barricade, dusty and travel-worn after clearly avoiding who knew how many dangers to get here.

“You’re that little follower Mr. Bruce saved, right? I know you.”

Leaning against the wall, Tyron slowly lit a cigarette.

“This isn’t a place for little brats like you. So? What are you here for? If you’re looking for protection, you picked the wrong place. This is about to become the most dangerous—”

“I’m here to help you.”

Pero interrupted him directly.

“Help...?”

Tyron froze again. Narrowing his eyes, he examined the little brat before him through the drifting smoke.

After staring for a while, he suddenly laughed.

“Looks like when a crisis hits, even my brain stops working. For a moment there, I actually thought a little brat like you could really help.”

Tyron flicked away his ash. Unwilling to waste more time, he stood to leave.

“Get lost already. This isn’t a place for little kids.”

“...”

Pero said nothing.

She merely took out a sheet of paper. On it was a drawing sketched in extremely concise lines.

“That’s... a map?”

Tyron could tell it was a hastily hand-drawn map, yet the precision of the lines and terrain was unbelievable, surpassing many professionally printed maps.

“Why are you showing me this? Don’t tell me you want me to use the map to run away?”

“No. I want to show you these locations.”

As she spoke, Pero pointed to several specially marked areas on the map.

Tyron instinctively looked over, then frowned slightly. Though he was extremely familiar with this district, he happened to know very little about those specific places.

They seemed to be specially isolated zones beyond the reach of even the gangs.

“What are these places?”

“Armories.”

“Oh, so they’re armories. No wonder I thought—wait, what did you just say?”

Tyron jolted violently and stared at Pero.

“I said these are armories.”

“And then...”

Pero opened her hand, revealing something like a token in her palm.

“This is the key to the armories.”