The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 338: Audience

“Mr. Muen, please follow .”

Muen didn’t have to wait long before a nun in a solemn black robe led him deep into the grand cathedral hall.

On both sides of the corridor—wide enough for carriages to pass side by side—blood white flowers fragrant enough to fill the air. On the stained-glass do above, vivid murals depicted the Goddess descending to save humankind.

Rubbing the butt that had just been rcilessly assaulted by that damned Pink Bear, Muen glanced left and right, eyes darting in awe.

His peripheral vision caught glimpses of the nuns passing by—robes perfectly fitted, hems swaying—and he couldn’t help but click his tongue in wonder.

Damn, they’re huge—no, wait, I an... this place is huge.

As expected of the Church of Life. Truly overflowing with wealth and arrogance.

He had always thought that as the duke’s son, he already represented the very image of a corrupt noble deserving to be strung up on a lamppost. Yet here, he actually felt like so country bumpkin entering the big city for the first ti.

“This is the Grand Cathedral of Aemir.”

Perhaps noticing Muen’s wandering gaze, the nun ahead of him—whose attire was slightly different from the others—spoke calmly without turning her head.

“It is the only holy ground in this world nad after the Goddess herself. The most exalted place of miracles devoted to Her service.”

“I see.”

Muen faced forward and smiled politely.

“I’ve learned sothing.”

“Then I hope you will always rember not to defile this sanctuary.”

The nun inclined her head slightly and continued leading Muen down the corridor until they reached a room filled with incense and mist.

She finally stopped and pointed toward the flower-petal-covered pool at the room’s center.

“Please, bathe.”

“Oh, oh.”

It was standard protocol to bathe before eting emperors or popes, so Muen wasn’t particularly surprised. He casually reached for the buttons of his shirt.

But then—

“...Miss Nun?”

“What is it?”

“Well... I’m going to bathe now.”

Muen glanced at the nun, who clearly had no intention of leaving, and carefully reminded her.

“I know.”

“Then...”

“My body and soul have long been dedicated to Her Holiness the Saintess and the Goddess. A man’s naked body is of no concern to .”

Her face remained utterly expressionless, as though she were wearing an iron mask.

“So please, Mr. Muen, pretend I don’t exist.”

“......”

But I do care, damn it!

Being stared at by a solemn, expressionless nun while bathing—was this so kind of brand-new form of punishnt?

Can’t we switch places, seriously?!

Still, he could understand her wariness toward him—an outsider about to enter the Church’s innermost sanctum. So, gritting his teeth, he began undressing.

His muscles, chiseled like marble, outlined a figure that could make any young woman blush. And from the center of his back radiated intricate magic patterns like rays of the rising sun. For the first ti, a flicker of emotion stirred in the nun’s eyes, her gaze scanning over him as though in judgnt.

After folding his clothes neatly—placing even the space-ring he had recently bought from Adolf at a “friend discount” on the prepared tray—Muen subrged himself fully into the pool.

The warm, sacredly scented water was almost enough to make him moan with pleasure.

Almost—if not for the unwavering gaze still fixed upon him from nearby.

“Um...”

“Sothing wrong?”

“May I ask your na?”

Muen could only attempt small talk to ease the suffocating awkwardness.

“Call Lin. High Nun Lin.”

High Nun... so she really is different from the others, huh.

“Then, Miss Lin, may I ask—what kind of person is His Holiness the Pope?”

“His Holiness...”

Lin pondered for a mont before replying seriously.

“You will understand once you et him, Mr. Muen.”

“......”

How are we supposed to keep talking like this?

Feeling the conversation die a tragic death, and the air growing even more stifling, Muen chose silence. He quickly finished washing, then put on the white robe that had been prepared for him.

While adjusting his clothing, a sudden thought struck him.

“Miss Lin, do you know Father Xien?”

“Xien? You an the apostate?”

“Yes.”

“I do. We once served in the sa church.”

“Then... what kind of person was he before?”

“Why are you asking?”

High Nun Lin frowned. “He’s on the Tribunal’s wanted list—”

“I killed him.”

As though ntioning sothing utterly trivial, Muen smiled shyly.

“Just recently, actually. So I was curious. It’s good to know what kind of monster the guy I killed really was.”

“......”

Lin froze, staring at Muen for a long mont. Then, after so silence, she finally said quietly,

“He was a genius.”

“Huh? I thought you’d doubt . I was ready to show proof, rub it in, and make you gasp.”

Muen rubbed his chin, disappointed.

“Just... a genius?”

“Yes. Had he not betrayed the Goddess, his talent alone would have seen him promoted within a few years—to a bishop overseeing his own cathedral.”

“But I thought he was just a madman. A lunatic.”

“Genius and madness are, in so sense, synonyms—are they not?”

Lin lowered her eyes, speaking softly.

“That makes sense.”

Muen nodded and said nothing more.

But as he turned his head, he heard her voice again.

“Tell ... did he die painfully?”

“Painfully?”

Muen thought for a mont. “Probably in the most painful way possible—for him.”

“I see...”

For the first ti, the nun’s expression softened, her lips curving into a faint smile—as though finally witnessing the blood that once stained an entire chapel being cleansed away.

“That’s good.”

......

......

“His Holiness is waiting inside.”

The nun, now gentler in deanor, opened an unremarkable wooden door.

“Please, go in.”

“All right.”

Taking a deep breath, Muen stepped through.

After adjusting to the sudden change in light, he found himself in a simple, almost holy room.

There—he finally saw the one said to be the most exalted being on the continent.

Pope Hezekiah.

Yet the man who supposedly held the power to stir the fate of the entire world... looked, in Muen’s eyes, more like any ordinary old man.

He wore plain cloth garnts and bent low over a row of vibrant green potted plants, watering them carefully with a wooden ladle and bucket.

He moved with great patience, every motion gentle and precise, tending to them as if they were his most treasured possessions. It was as though he hadn’t even noticed Muen’s arrival. The clear water dripped over the leaves, reflecting the face of a kindly, weathered elder.

But Muen dared not show the slightest disrespect. Bowing, he spoke solemnly:

“Muen Campbell, only son of the Campbell Ducal House of the Leopold Empire—here by Your ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Holiness’s invitation.”

“......”

The old man gave no reply.

He simply continued with his watering.

Muen could only wait patiently.

Not until every plant was fully tended did the old man finally set aside the bucket and ladle. Rolling up his sleeves, he rinsed his hands in a nearby basin where small black fish swam leisurely.

“The boy from the ladomir line?”

“Yes...”

Muen blinked, then quickly pulled out the letter ladomir had entrusted him with. He held it out respectfully in both hands.

“This was given to by Professor ladomir for Your Holiness.”

“Oh?”

The Pope finally lifted his gaze—but instead of taking the envelope, his eyes, filled with unfathomable light and countless years of wisdom, swept over Muen with deep aning.

Muen’s breath hitched.

In that instant, the sa unsettling sensation he had felt when standing before Professor ladomir—of being seen through completely—rose again from the pit of his heart.