The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 417: Get Out

“Heh-heh-heh...”

After the cloud and rain had passed, Muen humd a little tune, enjoying the airy, clear-headed bliss of his post-sage ti as he once again admired Liya’s shy process of getting dressed.

For a lovely girl, there were, in Muen’s opinion, two particular monts when she was at her most seductive and captivating.

The first was undressing.

Layers of fabric, peeled away beneath nimble fingers, fluttered like the wings of butterflies, revealing little by little the girl’s skin as smooth as white jade, her graceful curves, her proud peaks, her secret garden.

Accompanied by the rhythm of practiced intimacy and deepening warmth, one could watch her flushed, most enchanting face as her temperature rose.

The second, of course, was dressing.

Scattered garnts gathered once more—each ti she bent to pick them up, the unintentional curve of her back, the lift of her hips, the soft sway of her chest; the way she grew shy and annoyed under his gaze, her instinctive attempts to cover herself, the way she concealed each inch of beauty and mystery back beneath her fitting clothes, layer by layer—all of it stirred endless imagination and lingering thoughts.

Naturally, if she would let him join in this part, just as she had in the first, the scene would certainly gain a special flavor.

Unfortunately, the bashful girl, rely being watched by Muen while she dressed, was already so flustered and angry that she glared at the lecher several tis with her dewy eyes.

If he pushed his luck any further, she’d explode.

So Muen could only be a refined gentleman—one who gazes but does not defile.

“Bad man...”

Liya muttered as she picked up the long dress that had been torn to rags, a trace of helpless sweetness in her eyes. She pulled on a white gown and tied a slim black belt around her waist.

The ethereal girl looked even purer in white; only the rosy tint on her face and the misty shyness in her eyes made her seem all the more irresistible, like spring water shimring under warm sunlight.

Thinking of spring water made Muen recall her voice just monts ago—gentle, flowing, whispering low, seductive to the extre.

But it wasn’t just the girl who now felt light and hollow. Muen, too, felt empty.

From top to bottom, inside and out—completely drained.

Truly—out of ammo and dry on rations.

Not a single drop left.

“Still staring.”

Liya planted her hands on her hips, puffed up with indignation.

“Get up, we have serious business to do.”

“Serious business? Didn’t we just finish serious business?” Muen smiled playfully.

“Th-that wasn’t serious business!”

Liya glared at him, flushed with both sha and anger. She ant to stomp over and thump his chest, but after two steps her legs went soft and she stumbled straight into his arms.

So much for Holy Light being omnipotent.

Muen laughed as he wrapped an arm around her waist—but then felt a sharp sting on his shoulder.

Looking down, he found Liya had bitten him lightly, scolding through her teeth, “Let... let go, you pervert.”

“All right, all right, I’m a pervert. I won’t touch you.”

Muen ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) hurriedly loosened his hold, watching her pretend to compose herself with forced calm, and couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

How adorable.

...

...

After the intimacy, they still had to return to the “serious business.” Yet when Liya stopped and looked around, a sudden confusion washed over her.

Right. What exactly was her “business” now?

The devouring of the Red Sun had erased not only the tower but the entire surrounding space. Looking out, she saw the plains of Kanteville stretching endlessly before her. All the blood-red horror and grotesque sights were gone. What remained was an ordinary plain, an ordinary land—but lifeless and silent to the horizon.

This Kanteville likely held no other living beings besides Muen and Liya.

Everything was over. The dust had settled.

She had not beco the Saintess who saved this nation, but rather the sinner who bore the sins of a million souls.

“...I’m sorry.”

Muen’s fingers combed gently through her hair as he spoke softly.

“I broke my promise.”

“No...”

Liya shook her head with a faint smile. “This was my own choice. It has nothing to do with you, Muen.”

“...”

Though she smiled, the faintly dazed look in her eyes made Muen’s heart ache.

The girl had indeed faced her own heart and chosen the love she cherished more—but how could she so easily cast aside the goal and faith she had pursued for ten years? Losing that qualification must be unbearably painful for her.

Muen took her small hand.

“Will you co back to Belrand with ? That’s your ho too.”

“Belrand...”

A trace of nostalgia flickered in Liya’s eyes.

Indeed, aside from the Church, the place she rembered most was Belrand—the academy.

Now that she could no longer be Saintess, returning to Belrand, to the academy, to Muen, should be the best choice.

But...

After a mont’s thought, she said,

“I... I’ll think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because everything I have now still cos from the Church. I need to see what the Church decides next. And besides...”

She paused.

“Even if I can’t beco Saintess, I still want to use what strength I have to do sothing. Belrand is wonderful, but it’s too wonderful. There, I might not be able to do anything at all.”

“I see...”

Muen didn’t press further. He squeezed her hand lightly. “We can think about it later. We’ve stayed in here long enough; the others are probably getting impatient.”

“Mm.”

At the words ‘long enough,’ Liya’s cheeks flushed again.

After comforting her for a while, Muen pulled out a teleportation scroll, ready to crush it.

But before doing so, he glanced around one last ti, taking in the surroundings with faint nostalgia.

This place did hold plenty of mories—for better or worse.

He wondered if he’d ever have a chance to—

Huh?

Just as he slowed his motion, a creak sounded. A golden door suddenly opened before him, its light flickering as though inviting him in.

“That’s... odd. Is this thing’s AI that smart?”

Muen looked at the door, then down at the intact scroll in his hand—and an uneasy feeling rose sharply in his chest.

Before he could even react, a trendous force burst from the void and—accurately—kicked him right in the ass.

Stumbling forward, Muen was launched like a ball straight through the doorway.

From the sheer strength and precision, he could perfectly feel the irritation and impatience behind that kick.

Like a gardener watching a boar root back and forth through his painstakingly tended cabbage patch—over and over—then dawdle without leaving.

If you won’t get out yourself, I’ll make you get out.

“Fuck—”

The curse barely left his lips before his world beca that of a plush toy tossed into a spinning washing machine.

His body floated in total void, spinning at insane speed.

Three thousand spins to the left, three thousand to the right, up and down another three thousand.

In the few seconds it took to pass through space, Muen felt as though his brain fluid, stomach acid, and every half-liquid substance in his body had been thoroughly blended.

The ti was both short and endless. When light finally returned, he landed hard on solid ground.

The world was still tilting crazily. Muen struggled to open his eyes—only to find several strange faces staring down at him, all with the sa peculiar expression.

“Yo, Muen.”

Paul waved at him, looking him up and down curiously.

“Judging from that elegant appearance and the way you made your entrance... don’t tell sobody screwed you over in there?”