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

Muen was stunned.

What the hell?

Data was data. Right was right, wrong was wrong. Since when could measurements be described as “severe?”

Unless...

“My measurements are really that bad?”

Muen’s voice trembled slightly.

“Not exactly. It’s just that time is somewhat tight, which has caused... ah, never mind, never mind. Sit down first. Don’t be nervous. We still have more questions to ask.”

The man gestured for Muen to sit again.

After hesitating briefly, Muen obediently sat back down and cautiously asked: ℴ

“The next questions are important too?”

“Extremely important.”

“How important?”

“Ahem. I can’t explain the specifics, but in any case... they’ll affect many things. So please answer carefully.”

The man continued rapidly writing in the small booklet before him. Watching that grave and serious expression, Muen suddenly felt less like he was being interrogated and more like he was undergoing scientific analysis before some evil experiment.

Terrifying.

“A-Ask away.”

No matter what, Muen still forced himself to calm down.

“What color do you like?”

The man’s pen paused, and once again he asked a question that made absolutely no sense.

“What color do I like?”

Muen thought for a moment.

“Black?”

“Mhm, black?”

The man suddenly frowned.

“That color isn’t very good.”

“Not very good?”

Muen’s heart skipped violently.

What did he mean, not very good?

It was just a color...

Unless, exactly as Muen suspected, these seemingly nonsensical questions all carried hidden meanings?

He wasn’t literally saying the color black was bad.

He was hinting at Muen’s connections to criminal gangs!

“White! Silver! Gold! I like those too! Forget black!”

Muen immediately corrected himself.

Originally, he’d thought that things like arms trafficking, colluding with gangs, and bribing officials weren’t serious enough to justify treatment like this. But since matters had already escalated to this point, caution was obviously necessary.

As long as certain things never reached the surface, he believed they could still be resolved in a relatively “peaceful” manner.

And even if they did reach the surface...

He was still innocent! All those things had unavoidable reasons behind them!

Still, survival came first right now.

“Mhm. Those colors are much better.”

Sure enough, the man’s expression immediately relaxed again as he continued recording notes.

“Next question. Do you prefer diamonds, gold, or other gemstones?”

“Diamonds? Gold? Gemstones?”

Muen fell into confusion once more.

But after what had happened earlier, he already understood that these seemingly ordinary questions absolutely could not be answered casually. Otherwise, the consequences would definitely be severe.

So this time, he began carefully analyzing the question in advance.

Why ask whether he preferred diamonds, gold, or gemstones?

Could this be hinting at his bribery—

No.

At his bribing that little slut?

That was pure slander!

Was buying gifts for someone he liked, showering her with presents, and building a crystal palace for her really considered bribery?

Of course not!

That was love!

A kind of love single dogs like them could never possibly understand!

“I don’t particularly like diamonds, gold, or gemstones.”

Muen answered solemnly:

“I prefer high-concentration magic crystals. Not only because magic crystals are known as artificial stars—beautiful, flawless, and crystal clear—but also because they require magic to continuously sustain their existence, which means they can’t be used in trade at all. They’re difficult to obtain, but not truly expensive.”

“Magic crystals?”

The man’s expression changed once again, this time full of admiration.

“That’s an excellent choice! Refined, tasteful, and most importantly... full of surprises!”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Muen finally let out a sigh of relief.

As expected, just as he’d guessed, the question was related to money.

So the correct answer absolutely should not have been gold, diamonds, or jewels, but rather something beautiful yet lacking stable value—something without monetary properties altogether!

He really was a genius.

“Now then, the next question...”

The man proceeded to ask several more questions in succession.

Most of them sounded incredibly ordinary, almost like casual small talk.

What food did Muen like?

What did he enjoy drinking?

What time of day did he prefer most—morning or dusk?

And so on.

But Muen answered every single question with utmost seriousness, carefully considering each response beforehand.

Because he understood.

The path to salvation lay hidden within them.

“That should conclude today’s questions.”

At last, the man closed the little notebook before him and rose to his feet, giving Muen a polite nod.

“If further issues arise, I’ll come speak with you again.”

“It’s over?”

Muen let out a long breath and collapsed back into the chair like a man utterly drained.

Despite being only “simple” questioning, it had exhausted him more than a major battle.

As expected of professional interrogators.

Those questions had sounded random and harmless on the surface, yet each one hid traps and implications beneath it. One careless answer could likely have led to catastrophe!

Fortunately, this crisis should be temporarily resolved now...

“Get some rest.”

But at that moment, the man’s tone suddenly turned strangely meaningful.

“It won’t remain this easy later.”

Muen jerked his head upward in shock.

The stern, old-fashioned man—whose expression had remained solemn this entire time—was now looking at him with something unexpected on his face.

Pity.

Why was he pitying him?

An interrogator pitying an imprisoned criminal...

Did that mean there had still been flaws in Muen’s answers after all?

Muen felt like he’d fallen into an icy abyss.

But before he could question further, the man suddenly leaned over and secretly stuffed a thick book into Muen’s hands.

Muen lowered his head.

On the cover was a voluptuous beauty with enormous breasts, seductive eyes, and black lace lingerie that covered even less than what Ariel had worn last night.

It was a pornographic magazine.

And not just one issue.

A complete compilation edition!

“While you still have some time, read it carefully, Mr. Campbell.”

The man patted Muen’s shoulder and sighed deeply.

“Otherwise, you won’t have another chance.”

“Huh?”

Holding the pornographic magazine, Muen’s mind went completely blank.

Read it carefully?

What did that mean?

And what did he mean there wouldn’t be another chance later?

Explain things properly!

Unless...

Was he implying that among all the crimes Phyllis had listed earlier, distributing pornographic magazines was actually the truly unforgivable offense?

Damn it.

He knew Pink Bear’s magazines were problematic.

What kind of horrifying contraband had that bastard hidden inside them?

Don’t tell him it wasn’t just photo collections of past Saintesses...

Could there even be material involving previous Popes too—

“S-Sir, listen to me, I absolutely did not—”

“There’s no need to say anything.”

The man raised a hand and stopped Muen from trying to return the magazine.

Then he let out another long sigh.

That sigh was drawn-out and sorrowful, filled with helpless melancholy. Muen genuinely could not imagine what kind of complicated emotions could make such a stern and rigid man release such a sigh.

“I understand. I understand everything. But isn’t life always like this? No matter how beautiful and free your days may be, eventually they always come to an end.”

The man removed his glasses and rubbed the corners of his eyes, as though mourning some unbearable chapter of his own past.

Then he turned and walked away without hesitation.

Yet his autumn-leaf sorrow still drifted faintly into Muen’s ears.

“What a pity. In the end, this world is about to lose another playboy...”

“...”

Creak.

The door opened.

Then closed again.

Light flashed briefly before darkness swallowed the room once more.

Only Muen remained sitting there alone.

He stared blankly into the darkness, frozen in confusion and despair.

At the same time, his heart felt colder and colder.

“My good days are over?”

“The world’s about to lose another playboy?”

“What the hell do those words even mean?”

“Is he trying to imply...”

Muen clutched the pornographic magazine he’d been told to “look at one last time,” his expression bitter beyond words.

“...that my crimes are already completely confirmed, and the verdict has effectively been decided?”

...

...

Belrand. Imperial Palace.

A certain pink bear mascot sat leisurely on a rocking chair atop a balcony, casually flipping through the newest magazine resting against its belly while a furry paw extended from the bear mouth to lazily flick an expensive cigar.

Pale blue smoke drifted through the air.

And through that haze, it was possible to see that the entire palace had fallen into complete mobilization.

Court maids hurried through the corridors at rapid pace. Certain special personnel were secretly escorted into the palace itself—a place ordinarily considered forbidden territory.

Whether palace staff, those specially assigned personnel, or even the Royal Guards patrolling the grounds, everyone present wore tense expressions.

A silent atmosphere blanketed the entire palace.

The scale of the mobilization was enormous, yet everything remained perfectly orderly, like precision gears operating inside a massive machine.

Clearly, the war between the Empire and the Kingdom had already ended long ago.

Yet judging from the current atmosphere, the palace looked exactly as though it were preparing for a war capable of determining the Empire’s fate.

No.

This truly was a war.

Just one fought on an entirely different battlefield.

A war known as the Empress’s wedding.

“Report!”

The stern man in gold-rimmed glasses hurried over and handed a document to Pink Bear.

“We’ve completed collection of the detailed information.”

“Oh? That was pretty fast.”

Pink Bear temporarily closed the magazine featuring a cat-eared loli and casually accepted the file with a bear paw.

“Oh-ho, that brat’s body’s pretty damn good. Definitely the type born to be a pretty boy. No wonder women love him so much. Hell, if I were a woman, I’d probably fall for those pecs and eight-pack abs too.”

“Not just his chest and abs. Young Master Campbell’s muscle definition elsewhere is also extremely perfect...”

The man was panting heavily. Running all the way here had clearly pushed someone accustomed to desk work far beyond his limits.

But the situation was simply too urgent.

Even someone with his normally slow and methodical personality—someone who’d calmly drink coffee even with flames licking at his feet—had no choice but to start running now.

“Enough, enough! Who told you to describe it in that much detail?! I’m not some damn pervert who likes men!”

Pink Bear hastily interrupted him, then subconsciously rubbed his own plump general’s belly.

What was the use of having a good figure anyway?

Wasn’t Muen still being toyed with miserably by a whole group of women?

At least Pink Bear himself was only being toyed with by one bad woman. She’d recently gone away on business, which was why he finally had a moment of freedom.

And honestly...

Being toyed with by one woman was still better than being toyed with by an entire group.