The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 242: The Dead Setting Suddenly Starts Attacking Me

“My, how boring just to drink coffee. I suddenly rembered—the palace just sent over so pastries. Let’s eat together.”

Veil produced a beautifully crafted gift box.

“Pastries?”

“That’s right. Apparently, the royal pastry chef specially made this chocolate. You can’t buy it no matter how much money you have. His Majesty personally ordered it delivered, saying it was to reward the president for all her recent hard work.”

Veil secretly clenched her fist.

With the president’s fondness for sweets, faced with chocolate of all things, how could she possibly care about you, Muen Campbell?

Especially with the added weight of “personally from His Majesty.”

“Chocolate? Then let’s eat together.”

Sure enough, the mont she heard the word “chocolate,” Celicia’s gaze flickered. She stopped pressing Muen, stepped back, and seed a little impatient.

Hmph, when it cos to understanding the president, clearly I, Veil, am superior.

Seeing the two of them pull apart, Veil happily opened the gift box.

One by one, exquisitely shaped chocolates lay quietly in their little compartnts.

Each was molded into the shape of a heart, small and adorable.

Celicia extended slender fingers, picked one up, and placed it into her cherry-like mouth. On her cool, beautiful face imdiately blood an expression of satisfaction.

As expected, in certain monts, you are a little cute.

Watching Celicia’s profile, Muen smiled faintly.

Then he too unceremoniously picked up a piece of chocolate and put it in his mouth.

Bitterness and sweetness, mingled with a unique fragrance, instantly lted across his lips and tongue.

And as his teeth lightly bit down, a strong liquor aroma burst forth, mixing with the chocolate’s fragrance, shooting straight up into Muen’s skull, making him jolt.

It was liquor-filled?

On his tongue, the liquefied chocolate blended perfectly, not cloying but refreshingly sharp.

By instinctive bodily experience, Muen almost instantly recognized it as a very expensive high-end liquor.

The type that cost upward of a hundred thousand Emils per bottle. Just one piece, and Muen’s throat and stomach felt afla.

As expected of the palace pastry chef. Though chocolate itself was already a fairly expensive luxury in this world, to embellish it with such a liquor—the word was pure extravagance.

“The taste is exquisite.”

Muen praised sincerely.

“The pairing with the liquor is spot on, so much so you don’t even feel like you’re eating chocolate, but enjoying a work of art. If only it were paired with Westerton’s top-grade coffee, it would be perfect.”

“...”

“...”

Hm?

Muen frowned, puzzled.

Such a cultured evaluation, and no one even reacted?

At least give so response.

Plop.

There was a response.

But not the one Muen expected.

Veil’s hand trembled, and she dropped the priceless chocolate—worth enough to make so poor protagonist weep—onto the floor. Her pretty face froze stiff.

“M-Muen Campbell, what did you say? Th-this... this is liquor-filled?”

“Yeah.”

Veil’s strange reaction left Muen even more confused.

It was just liquor chocolate—what was the big deal?

But then he noticed Veil’s eyes shift past him to Celicia, and her expression... slowly turned to fear.

Muen blinked, then quickly turned as well.

In his sight, Celicia still held the pose of just slipping a chocolate into her mouth, lightly licking her fingertip. She looked elegant and serene.

But through the flickering candlelight, Muen clearly saw that Celicia’s fair face was gradually... flushed with crimson.

Not just her face—even every inch of her skin took on a faint pink hue, transforming the ice-cold beauty into sothing like a peach blossom blooming in early spring—delicate and radiant.

But the most crucial thing—Celicia’s eyes, always cool and rational in his mory, were beginning to thaw. The ice lted away, her gaze unfocused, her pupils growing dazed.

“Is this... drunk?”

What the hell, she got drunk off one piece of liquor chocolate?

That wouldn’t even register on a breathalyzer!

“The president... can’t touch alcohol...” Veil stamred.

Muen froze again. In his mind, it was as if a lightning bolt split across—an old mory resurfaced.

The very reason he had once been forced to use red tea at the start of his plans.

【My constitution can’t handle alcohol. Not a drop.】

That’s right—she had said that.

But co on, wasn’t that way too long ago? Who buries foreshadowing this far ahead? The readers would be utterly confused!

The dead setting suddenly starts attacking ?!

Muen turned back toward Veil, whose round face had gone pale, and asked in shock:

“Since Celicia can’t touch alcohol, why didn’t you check beforehand?”

“This was delivered from the palace! Before giving it to the president, how could I dare open it privately?”

“...Then does His Majesty know Celicia can’t drink?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never lived in the palace, how would I know that?”

Looking at Veil, answering every question with “I don’t know,” Muen felt helpless.

The likeliest explanation was simply a blunder. His Majesty might have known Celicia couldn’t drink, but the pastry chef didn’t, so liquor-filled chocolate was delivered.

As for the other possibility... what motive? That His Majesty deliberately sabotaged his daughter, just to get her drunk?

“One last question.”

Muen swallowed hard, his face grave as he looked at Veil.

“Even if Celicia is drunk, she’s still a princess. She’ll maintain her aloof elegance. A re drunkenness just ans she’ll sleep it off. Nothing untoward will happen. Right?”

“...”

“Right?!”

“...”

In the suffocating silence, Veil’s expression grew serious. She looked deeply at Muen—

And then—

Turned and bolted!

So fast even Muen was dumbstruck, left ashad at his own speed.

Muen froze, then reacted, sprinting after her like a hundred-ter dash.

But—

Bang!

The room’s door slamd shut, nearly smashing Muen’s face.

Shocked, he pounded on the door, only to feel magic surging across it.

Veil had even activated the protective magic array for the room.

“Veil, what are you doing?! I’m still inside! Open the door, let out!”

“...Sorry, Muen Campbell. I can’t.”

Her apologetic voice ca from outside.

“The president’s drinking tolerance is... very bad, so...”

“What the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) hell...”

Muen nearly coughed blood. “Is that necessary? So what if she’s drunk? No matter how bad her drinking is—”

Chng!

A shrill ring cut through the air, interrupting him.

Cold sweat instantly drenched Muen’s forehead. He slowly turned his head.

Right beside him, an ice-blue blade slid past his cheek, piercing through the room’s door.

That supposedly impregnable defensive array crumbled under the ice sword as though it were paper.

“Muen Campbell... why... why are you trying to run away?”

Celicia’s voice rang behind him.

No longer the cool tone of usual—now it was sweet, girlish.

But hearing it, Muen’s legs trembled uncontrollably, his tongue almost tied.

“Veil! Open the door! Please, open it!”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“For the sake of world peace, for Belrand’s safety, for tomorrow’s headlines not to be about three entire blocks reduced to rubble by a human Tyrannosaurus...

Soone has to stay inside to hold the president down.

So...”

Outside the door, Veil’s eyes brimd with tears. She turned her head away firmly.

“Muen Campbell, don’t die.”