The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 256: Mutation!

"Now that’s interesting. The word ‘surprised’... could it be that I have the honor of being known by you, great perforr?"

Muen swirled his wine glass, speaking with a half-smile.

“N-no way! I don’t know you at all!”

The beautiful violinist’s tone clearly faltered.

“What I ant just now is... is... I was suddenly called over by a noble young master like you, so I was just surprised!”

Noble young master?

Muen raised a brow, turned his head to glance at Shaun beside him, and signaled with his eyes.

Shaun shook his head.

After all, coming to a place like the Lower City, Muen naturally couldn’t wear the magnificent, solemn formal attire he would use to et His Majesty, so he had already changed into ordinary casual clothes before coming.

As he looked now, he was just an unremarkable handso blond guy, with no trace of nobility to be found on him.

In this world, being blond and rich didn’t automatically make you a noble.

But Muen didn’t press this point. Perhaps she was just guessing randomly. He continued smiling lazily as he said:

“Is that so? I see. But you say you don’t know , Miss Violinist—then why do I feel like you look sowhat familiar?”

“F-familiar?”

“That’s right. Your height, your bearing, the way you speak, and also...”

Muen lifted his eyes, letting his gaze sweep once more over the beautiful violinist before him, circling around—and then, involuntarily, it landed on... those towering mountain ranges.

“You—”

Sensing Muen’s obvious gaze, the violinist imdiately covered her chest, speaking in sha and anger:

“P-pervert!”

“Ahem...”

Muen coughed, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, I didn’t an it. It’s just that you’ve covered your face so tightly.”

Heaven bear witness, that wasn’t what he’d ant to say at all—what he’d ant was the “overall impression.”

After all, he wasn’t so lust-addled fool. How could he keep staring at that kind of place?

Basic courtesy in conversation ant looking at the other person’s face or eyes. That much he understood.

The problem was...

Her face was too tightly obscured by that magic. He couldn’t very well stare intently at a blur of fog where nothing could be seen.

A person’s eyes will always, unconsciously, lock onto the key point.

So his gaze could only, naturally and uncontrollably, fall upon the most eye-catching spot.

It moved there on its own—my eyes weren’t clouded by that wicked Naizi at all!

“A-anyway, you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know you, and I’m absolutely not what you’d call an acquaintance.”

The violinist hugged her chest tightly—apparently not realizing that from Muen’s angle, this squeezing only made things even more suggestive—and forced a fierce tone:

“If you called over just to tease , then please allow to decline. The money you had the waiter bring earlier—I’ll return every last coin, a-all of it!”

“Is that so?”

Hearing [N O V E L I G H T] this, Muen sighed, not overly fixated on the “beauty’s” true face.

No matter what, forcing a young lady to show her face would be far too rude. He had only been a little curious.

...Perhaps he really had mistaken her.

After all, though many aspects were similar, the one in his mind should still be at Saint Maria Academy right now. Whether identity, location, or motive, none of it lined up with a beautiful violinist performing late at night in a restaurant.

As for holy radiance... that bit of holy light proved nothing. There were countless believers of the Goddess in this world, and plenty could use holy radiance. If he took out Elizabeth to shine a little, it would be far stronger than what they’d just felt.

“I apologize for my rudeness just now, beautiful Miss Violinist.”

Muen set down his glass and placed a hand over his chest in a formal salute:

“There’s no need to refund anything. Please believe —I called you over not to tease you, but because I truly have proper business.”

“P-proper... business?”

The violinist blinked, “What is it?”

“My friend here is very fond of your music.”

Muen gestured to the side.

“Today is the morial day of his late wife, so I was hoping you could play a piece just for him.”

“P-please... please play one more ti!”

Hearing Muen’s words, Shaun was montarily stunned, then stood with emotion, pleading:

“It’s been ten years. I thought I had forgotten her face, but your music... it let see her clearly again. Please play it once more. I haven’t seen enough. I still want to... I still want to...”

“Um...”

Seeing Shaun’s tears streaming down—those feelings without a trace of falsehood—the violinist’s big eyes beneath the mist couldn’t help but flutter.

She snuck a glance at Muen, doubt rising in her heart.

This guy... really just wants to play for his friend?

He didn’t discover anything and co to expose the truth on purpose, nor was he trying to tease ?

Was I overthinking it?

“What’s wrong, are you unwilling?”

Muen smiled at her; the clear azure in his eyes was different from a mont ago, without a speck of impurity.

“T-then... all right.”

Moved by Shaun’s sincere grief, the violinist lifted her violin again and said softly:

“If it’s just performing, I can.”

“Thank you.”

Muen and Shaun thanked her at the sa ti, then straightened up and listened earnestly.

And so, the piece began anew.

The lodious notes were like sacred sound from the heavens, as if they could soothe every wound within the heart.

“Olia... Olia...”

Shaun once more sank into mories of his departed wife.

As for Muen—perhaps because he had long been in contact with Elizabeth—he was no longer affected by that faint holy radiance that seed to spill out on its own, beyond the young woman’s control.

Propping his chin, he quietly watched the perforr imrsed in her music.

Perhaps influenced by Shaun’s sincere longing, she was clearly pouring emotion into the performance now, no longer pulling the bow in a rely formulaic way.

So even putting aside the holy radiance, Muen could still clearly feel that the piece... had co alive.

A living piece displayed power utterly different from before—even Muen unconsciously sank into it.

In a daze, it was as if a pure, holy Saintess appeared before Muen.

With a hazy beauty, the Saintess opened her wide, warm embrace toward Muen, guiding him to keep drawing closer, closer, and—

“Bang!”

All of a sudden, a resounding crash.

The music was cut off.

The scene before his eyes vanished, and his vision returned to the dimly lit restaurant.

Shaun opened his eyes in confusion, not yet recovered, while the violinist’s delicate body trembled—clearly startled.

Muen frowned, displeased, and looked toward the source of the sound.

“W-why?”

At a nearby table, a man suddenly slapped the table and stood, roaring:

“Why can they have a solo for them, and I... I can’t?”

Saying this, he walked toward Muen’s side.

Face flushed, neck red, steps unsteady.

So...

Drunk?

“G-guest, please don’t do this.”

The sa waiter who had taken quite a few kickbacks from Muen hurried over, trying to stop the drunken man.

But the scrawny waiter clearly couldn’t halt the man’s advance and could only be dragged along with him toward Muen.

Only when he was very close to Muen did the man shove the waiter aside, thrust out a hand, point at Muen, and glare viciously:

“Tell , w-why? I-is it just because you’re so pretty boy with a nice face?”

The stench of alcohol made Muen even more displeased.

He was about to push away this obviously ordinary drunk, but perhaps under the influence of alcohol, the swaying man—before Muen could even move—suddenly misstepped on flat ground and toppled toward Muen.

Muen instinctively reached out to catch him.

But just then—

The hand the man had pointed at Muen suddenly, without the slightest warning, swelled violently.

Ferocious muscle, stacked like coiled dragons, burst through the sleeve in an instant.

A tallic sheen flickered across the skin of that arm; his five fingers curled slightly—and dagger-like claws sprang out!

This is... bestialization?

Muen’s pupils shrank.

No battle aura.

No magic.

Not even the slightest killing intent.

It was purely, simply a change of the flesh.

Therefore, when those dagger-like claws were about to touch Muen’s chest, only then did the death warning he had always trusted finally sound—too late!