The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 384: Flowers

Pff.

The dagger pierced into flesh.

Bright red blood sprayed out, reflecting dozens of equally dumbfounded faces.

Whether Saintess candidates and their Knights, the prodigies taking part in the trial, or the supporters clustered around Freya—everyone froze at the sight.

Wide, sparkling little eyes showed huge confusion.

Soone even instantly suspected they’d fallen into an illusion and snapped their gaze to Ailag, who was not far from Muen.

But Ailag shook his hands hard with an innocent face.

I wasn’t, I didn’t—don’t talk nonsense.

“What are you doing?”

Let alone the others—even Muen, who had kept vigilant toward Freya all along, instinctively blue-screened for a few seconds.

Because no matter how he thought about it, he could never have guessed that Freya, suddenly making a move now, would do this first... shove a blade into her own Knight?

What is this even supposed to be?

Open with a teammate sacrifice?

“Brian—my Brian, does it hurt?”

Freya ignored Muen’s question for the mont. She yanked the dagger out of Brian’s body, more blood pouring out like it cost nothing. Plainly she was doing sothing terrifying, yet the smile on her face remained so gentle.

“Don’t worry—it won’t hurt soon.”

“Cough, cough.”

Brian clutched the wound and half-knelt before Freya, weak.

He lifted his head. On that utterly pale face, an expression surfaced that was extrely complicated.

Shock, horror, blankness... then release—but within that release, an indescribable pain.

“Lady Freya... you still chose this path?” Brian’s voice trembled.

“No helping it, Brian—this is the only path.”

“It shouldn’t be... it shouldn’t... I...”

Brian seed to want to say more, but his bloodless lips suddenly pressed tight. Helplessness flickered in his eyes.

At last, with a light sigh, he let go and allowed the blood to drip.

Freya’s palm stroked Brian’s cheek with pity. She lifted her head and swept her gaze over everyone. In the end, that gentle look fell on Muen.

“Can’t you see what I’m doing yet?”

She spoke softly:

“In terms you can understand... I’m defecting.”

Clang—

In the next instant, thunder humd.

A sudden gale rolled up the thin blood-mist around them.

While everyone was still lost in this incomprehensible scene, a keen blade-light had already crossed the not-so-far distance and arrived... at Freya’s neck.

Freya’s supporters hadn’t even reacted yet. With just a light sweep, this candidate called the closest to Saintess would be beheaded on the spot, her fragrant life snuffed out.

But the blade-light ultimately halted before that slender neck, leaving only a shallow blood-line on the fair skin, and advanced no more.

The sa blood-line appeared on Muen’s neck. His face turned ugly:

“Death-Deed Writ!”

“Yes—the Death-Deed Writ.”

Freya slightly tilted her chin, making the curve of her swan neck even lovelier.

“If Mr. Muen kills , he’ll be beheaded at once too. Of course, with the speed of teleportation magic and the Church’s technique, within a few seconds they might still reattach the head.”

“But once you’re eliminated, you can’t do anything—including protecting your beloved little Saintess.”

She didn’t resist in any way, only smiled at Muen. Yet that flawless smile, in Muen’s eyes, was disgusting.

Muen snapped his head toward Margarita.

She was the one who had produced the Death-Deed Writ back then...

But Margarita only gave a strange look and shook her head. “Not my doing.”

Muen did not remove the blade from Freya’s neck and pressed on:

“But you also signed the Death-Deed Writ—why are you fine!”

The Death-Deed Writ had been produced precisely because Margarita didn’t trust Freya—the Saintess candidate with the most supporters—so Freya’s signing had been doubly confird. There was no way to pull petty tricks there.

And Muen’s move just now had confird the Writ’s effect.

Yet Freya had obviously driven a blade into her own Knight, and nothing had happened.

“Of course I’m fine, because I would never harm anyone.”

Freya lowered her eyes. “Right, my Brian?”

“Of course.”

Increasingly weak, unable even to stand, Brian showed a fervent, adoring smile:

“How could Lady Freya harm ? This is love for .”

“...”

F**k!

This works too?

What kind of simp superpower is that?

Muen’s eye twitched. He snapped another look at Margarita.

Margarita showed a wry smile:

“That was to prevent accidental injury.”

“...”

Muen blanked, then caught on.

If the Writ’s curse were triggered just by harming soone, then Ailag—who pulled that feeding-frenzy move earlier and accidentally injured quite a few—would’ve been sent away already.

But Brian’s through-the-roof simp soul was clearly a special case. After Freya’s abnormal act, even fools would stay wary of her.

Including her supporters. They rely thought Freya had a high chance of becoming the next Saintess and were placing early bets. They weren’t literal simps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Muen saw those supporters in a watchful state before the abnormal scene. Even that gaudy ugly hunk from before only let his eyes flicker at Muen’s blade against Freya’s neck—he made no move.

However...

Precisely because of that, the unease in Muen’s heart grew stronger.

Knowing she had no effective offensive ans, Freya had still launched an attack—though the first victim had been her own God’s Attendant Knight.

And it was exactly this blatant abnormality...

“What do you actually want? What is your goal? And you say you’re defecting—on whose behalf? Or—”

Clink.

Golden chains suddenly shot from beneath Freya’s feet and bound her tight.

Others had moved. Though they couldn’t harm her directly, at least they had to restrict her movents so she wouldn’t pull inexplicable stunts again.

Yet even with her delicate body bound by those cold chains—so provocatively tight—Freya’s smile didn’t fade in the slightest.

“Ah-ah, Mr. Muen, everyone—don’t look at with such scary eyes.”

“I said I wouldn’t harm anyone.”

“I just need you to cooperate a little...”

In an instant, Muen’s heart clenched.

That familiar premonition of death exploded in his mind. Before thought could catch up, his body was already moving on instinct.

A blade aid at a vital point grazed past Muen. He whipped around and saw... the gaudy ugly hunk in the tight white suit.

“You...”

You’re a simp too?

Muen reflexively wanted to bark the question, but before he could, he saw the gaudy ugly hunk wearing the sa look of disbelief.

“I... I’m not... I didn’t... I didn’t want to... but... I can’t control it.”

He stared at the weapon trembling in his hands. Terror flooded his eyes.

In the next second, terror turned to dread.

With a wet pff, he lowered his head in confusion.

A bloodstained blade-tip jutted from his chest.

“Cough... cough...”

The gaudy ugly hunk coughed up clots of blood and turned his head with difficulty.

He saw a familiar face—likewise blank.

It was his companion.

A companion who had lived and fought side by side with him, with deep affection.

“W-why...? Didn’t we agree... to make it all the way to the end... to use the money we earned here... to travel together? Did you... choose Freya?”

“No... I don’t know...”

Tears of pain ran from the corners of the other burly, jowly man’s eyes. “But I can’t control myself.”

A red line sprang across the jowly man’s neck. His head dropped to the ground.

Almost at the sa ti, pure white radiance appeared and wrapped his head and body, which vanished from the spot.

The curse of the Death-Deed Writ had been triggered.

And so had the teleportation scroll.

But it wasn’t over.

Pff.

Pff.

Pff.

Pff.

More sounds of blades punching through flesh rang out. People turned back in pain and saw faces they knew well.

Senior Sister Fanny stared blankly at Senior Sister Vicki behind her.

Ailag stared in horror at Seviel behind him.

Even Phil lost her usual languor, slowly lowering her head to stare dully at the long spear skewering her delicate body.

“Cough... cough... Little Lei-lei?”

Phil frowned, her face twisted with pain:

“If you think I pay too little, just say it. I can raise your pay—why use such extre ans?”

“N-no... that’s not it.”

The adventurer called Lightning Spear lost the coldness in her eyes; bewildernt like a child’s rose up instead:

“I can’t control myself—I can’t...”

Veins bulged on her forehead; the muscles in her arms spasd again and again, as if she were wrestling sothing inside.

But the outco was already set.

A red line surfaced on her neck. Pure white light blood and wrapped her as well.

In that instant, Muen’s eyes flew open.

Because at the mont Lightning Spear disappeared, Muen saw, tucked into her hair, sothing wholly at odds with her usual cold temperant... a spray of flowers.

Pale yellow flowers, now speckled with blood and even more uncanny. Though pinned in her hair, they seed to root in soil—swaying, swaying with the breeze.

“Flowers?”

Muen’s thoughts snapped into clarity.

[Mr. Muen, do you want my flowers?]

Muen whipped his head around and asked everyone, “Don’t tell —you all accepted Freya’s flowers!”

“Flowers?”

Most people showed bewildered expressions.

But that was just as Muen expected. Because “most people here” now referred to those who, after that sudden wave of friendly fire, were gravely wounded yet still remained—the majority that was now less than half of what they’d had before.

And the other small portion...

Muen’s gaze fell on the gaudy ugly hunk who had just ambushed him. The bouquet pinned to his chest was still fresh and dewy.