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

“Now, it’s your turn, my dear father.”

“...”

Faced with his daughter’s call, Saint Peron V could not even respond. His lips trembled, his face pale as death, terror filling those clouded, frantic eyes.

Because with Donna dead, and the Grand Barrier completely locked down by Muen through equal-level authority, he had now lost his final support entirely. In his eyes, the daughter he had once cherished most had already become his greatest nightmare.

“D-Don’t... don’t come closer...”

Only after a long while did Saint Peron V finally force out a hoarse, trembling voice from his throat.

“...”

Afrella gazed at Saint Peron V’s aged face. At this moment, her father looked both incomparably familiar and utterly strange.

In her memories, he had always stood high above everyone else, cold-eyed and imposing. Every gesture carried terrifying authority that compelled fear and submission. A single sentence, a single glance from him had been enough to decide the life or death of anyone in this city.

But now, he was nothing more than a shriveled old man lying there, incapable of doing anything.

He was trembling. He was afraid. He fumbled wildly with the Grand Barrier’s control core, trying desperately to operate it, yet accomplishing nothing. Instead, in his panic, the semicircular control core slipped from his hands and fell to the ground.

Clack.

The sound was crisp and clear, just like the final shred of Saint Peron V’s dignity shattering apart.

“Don’t... don’t come closer!” Even Saint Peron V’s beard was trembling.

“Father, seeing you like this now almost makes me wonder if my memories were wrong.”

Afrella did not obey her father’s command, nor did she need to. Her skirt swayed gently as she walked forward step by step.

“But after thinking about it more carefully, perhaps my memories weren’t wrong after all. You were always like this. You were always this pathetic and laughable. It’s just that for so long, the miserable absurdity inside you was concealed beneath your false halo.”

“Shut up! What halo? That glory belongs to me by right! I am the king of this nation! The great ruler who will lead this country into prosperity!” Saint Peron V roared with hollow fury.

“You’re still dreaming your dream of being a great ruler?”

Afrella’s expression turned sorrowful as she spoke softly.

“Have you even looked at what this country... what this city has become?”

She picked up the Grand Barrier’s control core from the ground and manipulated it slightly. An image immediately appeared before Saint Peron V.

It showed the city as it currently was.

Flames raging everywhere. Disaster spreading in all directions. Screams, pain, curses, and wails filled every corner.

Buildings rich with history and artistic beauty were being destroyed beneath horrifying violence, reduced to dust in the river of time.

People struggled desperately to survive in despair, praying for heaven’s mercy, praying for the Goddess’s compassion.

But not a single one of them prayed to their king.

Because even they already understood that the one responsible for turning them into this was the very king they had once supported.

“...”

Saint Peron V froze for a moment as he stared at the scene, his expression constantly shifting.

And just when Afrella thought her father might finally feel remorse for his own cruelty, he suddenly exploded in fury.

“These stupid lowborn vermin!”

The people in the image prayed to gods instead of praying to him, and even cursed him as their king. Yet Saint Peron V showed not the slightest trace of regret. Instead, he snarled viciously:

“These shortsighted wretches! What do they understand? I’m doing this for the nation’s long-term future! They only need to make a tiny sacrifice in exchange for a far stronger kingdom, yet not only are they ungrateful, their minds are still so narrow! Ridiculous!”

“I should’ve understood them sooner! How am I supposed to govern a kingdom filled with so many parasites?”

“...”

Fuck.

Muen and Afrella exchanged a glance from the side, both instinctively cursing inwardly.

Whether the old bastard was pretending or genuinely believed it, his way of thinking had practically evolved beyond anything human.

Then again, if he weren’t this inhuman, he never would’ve reached this point.

“It seems there’s no reasoning with you after all. Then I can only use the simplest method to end everything.”

Afrella walked up to Saint Peron V.

In her palm, she held a dagger.

The dagger was ordinary, possessing no special power whatsoever, because it was not one of the treasures stored here.

It was the dagger her nanny had given her for self-defense years ago on that bloody night when she had hidden Afrella inside the well.

Over the years, the dagger had never once been used.

And now, at last, it would fulfill its purpose.

“Y-You... you’re going to kill me? You’re going to do it yourself?”

Saint Peron V stared in disbelief. He had originally assumed it would at least be Muen Campbell striking the final blow.

“Do you understand what you’re doing? I am your father! Your king! You want to commit regicide? Patricide?”

“It’s precisely because you are my father...”

Afrella slowly knelt beside Saint Peron V. For some reason, Aurier’s face suddenly flashed through her mind.

What would Brother Aurier have done?

He probably would have done it himself as well.

No—not probably.

Because he had long since been waiting for this moment.

“What need is there to borrow an outsider’s hand for something like this? This farce has gone on for far too long.”

Afrella tightened her grip on the dagger and aimed it at Saint Peron V’s chest.

Nearby, Muen could not bear to watch the girl do something this cruel with her own hands. He wanted to say something, but when he saw the resolve in Afrella’s beautiful face, he ultimately remained silent.

With a faint sigh, he turned his head away.

“Father... please die.”

Without the slightest hesitation, she stabbed downward.

Thud.

Over the years, Afrella had sharpened the blade countless times. The dagger pierced effortlessly into Saint Peron V’s aged flesh.

Without the Grand Barrier protecting him, even an ordinary blade could pierce the body that had once been so exalted with absurd ease.

Saint Peron V’s eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at the pale blade sinking into his emaciated body.

His vision was clouded, but at such close distance, even those murky eyes could see everything with perfect clarity.

“That’s impossible...”

As though he still could not process what had happened, Saint Peron V muttered blankly:

“How could I... die here?”

He was the king.

The ruler of this nation.

He had sat upon that throne for decades, making this kingdom prosperous and wealthy. And next, he was supposed to lead it into an even more glorious future.

Yet before any of that could be completed... he was about to die?

“Don’t worry, Father. The things you failed to accomplish, I’ll accomplish in your place. Though I certainly won’t become some great ruler.”

Afrella slowly pushed harder. Blood gradually flowed from the wound.

Very little blood.

Saint Peron V no longer resembled a living man. The amount of blood left inside him was pitifully small, just like the nation that was gradually being drained dry.

“No! I can’t die! I still can’t die!”

Saint Peron V began struggling desperately. With his frail hands, he struck wildly at Afrella’s arm, like a rebellious child—or a vicious beast cornered by despair.

He refused to accept it. He hated it. He was Saint Peron V. How could he possibly end here—

Yet this was merely a final flicker before death.

His struggle was pitifully weak. Even a young girl like Afrella could restrain him with ease.

And as the blade gradually pierced deeper into his heart, what little life he still possessed slowly drained away.

Afrella moved very slowly. Whether because she lacked strength or because she did it deliberately, no one knew.

But either way, this once lofty king was forced to endure that immense agony, both physical and mental.

The last remaining light in Saint Peron V’s eyes gradually dimmed. He watched his kingdom... his people... everything he possessed... rapidly slipping farther and farther away from him.

Everything he owned, everything he desperately wanted to clutch onto, vanished before his eyes.

For a man like him, there could be no crueler punishment.

“I... am unwilling...”

In the end, that lofty king who fancied himself a great ruler, yet had thrown his nation into a pit of catastrophe, left behind only those final words.

Then he died.

A miserable death.

Like an old stray dog on the roadside.

Pathetic and laughable.

“It’s over...”

As Saint Peron V’s body gradually turned cold, Afrella released her grip and collapsed weakly onto the floor, swaying slightly as though all strength had left her body.

She looked somewhat dazed as well, because everything that had happened felt almost dreamlike.

Yet the sensation lingering on her fingertips, the smell of blood filling her nose, and the scene before her eyes all clearly told her the same thing:

This was reality.

“I did it... sob... I succeeded...”

At last, Afrella could no longer hold back her tears. She cried quietly, then laughed while crying, only to break down into tears again moments later.

Only now did she finally seem her age.

“Yeah. You did it. Even I didn’t expect that in the end, you’d be the one to finish all of this.”

Muen handed her a handkerchief.

With Saint Peron V finally dead, Muen—who had remained on guard the entire time—finally let out a breath of relief as well. At the same time, his expression turned rather strange.

After all the deductions, all the repeated runs through this entire game-like scenario, he had never expected that the one to finally defeat the end-stage boss would actually be Pero.

The ugly duckling Pero had transformed into the swan-like Princess Afrella, descending like a heroine from the heavens at the very moment the story was about to plunge once again into tragedy, turning the tide and saving everything.

So in the end... who exactly was the protagonist of this stage?

Damn it, after all that, was he still just a supporting character? And here he was, working so hard performing this whole time!

“No. Without you forcing Father into this position, I could never have done anything.”

Afrella wiped away her tears and shook her head. She understood very clearly that although what she had done appeared extraordinary, at most it was merely the final meter of an impossibly long race.

Cutting through Saint Haze Palace. Assassinating Saint Peron V. Forcing him to use the Grand Barrier to transfer himself here, then trapping him in place through the clash between opposing authorities so that he could no longer escape.

Only after all those conditions had been fulfilled was she able to play even the smallest role at the very end.

Because she herself was weak.

Even the weapon she used had been given to her by Brother Aurier... or rather, by Saint Peron V himself.

“Thank you.”

Afrella pressed her lips together lightly. Her eyes, still moist from crying, shimmered as she stared directly at Muen.

After changing into princess attire, she seemed to have shed all the roughness and mischievousness she once carried. Every movement now appeared graceful and elegant.

And her destructive power had gone from negative numbers straight to a hundred.

The contrast was almost half as devastating as a shy version of Ariel.

“Cough. I just did what I thought needed to be done. There’s no need to thank me.”

Muen coughed awkwardly and rubbed his nose, avoiding Afrella’s gaze.

“Besides, even if things with that old bastard are over now, you still have a lot to deal with, don’t you? At a time like this, priorities come first. Priorities first.”