The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 437: Don’t Look

“Lecher, take your filthy hands off her!”

With that furious, girlish shout, the standard-issue longsword snapped into a brutally sharp redirection, driving straight for Muen—who had been trying with all his might to protect Liya.

“Hm?”

Muen hadn’t had ti to process what “lecher” was supposed to an. Faced with the sudden strike, he could only respond in a rush.

But that abrupt change of move still made his counter a beat late.

Muen seized that fleeting opening with precision, twisting his body hard to the side. He finally managed to carry Liya out of the assassin’s line of attack.

Only, because of that evasive motion, he and Liya ended up holding each other even tighter. Liya’s high, snowy peaks were pressed flat against Muen’s solid pectorals.

From the “assassin’s” angle, one could clearly see the tense, breath-snatching deformation caused by that pressure.

And because of the violent motion, Liya’s soft hands instinctively hooked around Muen’s neck. Her warm breath fanned across his face at point-blank range.

They looked like a pair of lovers in heat, wrapped up in each other—one heartbeat away from lting into a kiss.

“You... bastard... right in front of , you actually—”

The black mist boiled visibly, like a salaryman who’d slogged through a whole day of work, opens the front door, and finds an extra pair of n’s shoes in the entryway—and familiar yet unfamiliar sounds coming from inside. Rage punched through the haze, nearly tearing it apart.

The “assassin” refused to accept it—she gripped her sword and thrust again.

Alas, this ti, it failed too.

Because, with a turn of the scene, that pretty figure hooked around Muen’s neck suddenly moved of her own accord, stepping in front of the “assassin.”

“Liya!”

Muen grabbed for Liya, alard, but Liya only glanced back with a reassuring smile, then turned a doubtful gaze toward the black mist before her.

After a mont’s hesitation, Liya spoke softly:

“Ariel?”

“......”

“Hah?”

What had been a tentative probe landed like a thunderclap inside the cramped sacred palanquin.

The figure in the mist froze.

Muen blinked—then jolted as if shocked. The small hand he was clasping suddenly felt like a live wire, throwing him into frantic hops along the edge of death.

The assassin is Ariel?

How could that be?

Muen’s mind denied it on reflex.

True, that voice had sounded familiar, and if it were Ariel, that “lecher” would ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) have rolled off her tongue quite naturally.

But why would Ariel be here?

How would she have beco an enemy assassin?

And why would she try to kill Liya?

None of it made sense on a logical level—every question scread to overturn the reality before his eyes.

Too bad... reality is reality.

No matter how bizarre, it remained an unarguable truth.

Under the tight focus of two pairs of eyes, the black mist draped over the “assassin” slowly thinned—finally revealing the true face within.

A pleasing, well-balanced face; slightly upturned willow brows; steadfast, confident eyes; lips that often curved into a rakish half-smile; and... a bona fide flat chest.

That’s right—the “assassin” before them was the absolutely real, 100% additive-free, the one and only fated protagonist of this very work, standard-bearer of the female AoTian archetype... and Liya’s childhood friend who’d been coveting her for ages—the girls-love ringleader.

—Ariel Bugaard.

Muen’s mouth fell open, big enough to fit a goose egg. He looked at Liya at his side (currently being coveted by Ariel), the corner of his eye twitching—full-on panic.

“Ariel? Why are you here?”

She’d suspected as much a mont ago, but seeing Ariel’s familiar face now, Liya couldn’t help feeling a bit lost. She blinked and asked with open curiosity:

“Did sothing happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Catching up can wait.”

Ariel ground her teeth, raised the longsword again, and leveled it straight at Muen:

“Let chop off this lecher’s pig trotters first!”

“No!”

Liya sprang up and, without the slightest hesitation, stood in front of Muen, saying earnestly:

“Ariel, you can’t do that!”

“Liya, you...”

Ariel’s body swayed as if struck by lightning.

“You’re actually shielding him? He was obviously about to molest you—so close you were pressed together—I’ve never even... Why? Don’t tell —”

“Muen didn’t molest !”

Liya puffed her cheeks in mild anger.

“Ariel, you misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?”

Ariel’s eyes widened, unable to parse it.

“You were wrapped around each other—how is that not molestation? Don’t tell it was you who—”

“Ahem.”

Feeling that things could not be allowed to run off the rails like this—and that if he didn’t retake the initiative, sooner or later he’d be slaughtered by the female AoTian as a pig offered to heaven—Muen gave two dry coughs and cut Ariel off.

He inconspicuously withdrew his “salty pig hand,” straightened his collar, and declared righteously:

“Miss Ariel, Liya’s right—you’ve misunderstood . I did nothing improper to her.”

After all, it only counts as impropriety if it’s one-sided. This was mutual—how could you call that molestation?

At most, call it flirting.

“Calm down first,” Muen advised.

“Not improper?”

Ariel’s brows knit tight, her gaze wary on Muen:

“But I clearly saw you—”

“I was protecting Liya.”

Muen squared his shoulders. Not a shred of falsehood in that.

“Protecting Liya... you? Why? On what authority?”

“On the authority that I’m currently the Church’s specially-conferred Honorary Sanctum Knight! My duty is to guard Her Holiness the Saintess at arm’s length!”

“Honorary Sanctum Knight?”

Suspicion still clouded Ariel’s eyes, but the Church-insignia badge on Muen’s chest didn’t look like sothing easily faked.

“Eh? Wait—?”

And just as Ariel scrutinized the badge for a flaw... a few of Muen’s recent words jumped, unbidden, into her mind.

Forcing her to consider sothing she’d had no ti to consider before.

“Her Holiness the Saintess? You... who are you calling ‘Her Holiness the Saintess’?”

Ariel stared at Muen and asked, one word at a ti, utterly flat.

“Hm? Who’s the Saintess?”

Muen blinked again. Then, taking in Ariel’s genuinely baffled face, he arched a brow. That snag in logic he’d felt earlier seed to finally find its source.

“Her Holiness the Saintess... obviously refers to Liya. This is the Saintess’s processional palanquin. Inside, it’s just Liya and . I can’t exactly be the Saintess, can I?”

Ariel’s slender body trembled.

“Now that you ntion it...”

Muen rubbed his chin, giving Ariel a rather odd once-over.

“The reason I reacted like that just now is because so assassin suddenly attacked. So... aren’t you the one who should be explaining first, Miss ‘Assassin’?”

Ariel trembled again.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Liya still looked completely at sea, and she chid in:

“Why would you do that, Ariel? Did I do sothing you hated?”

“......”

At last, Ariel’s delicate body began to shake—hard.

She slowly turned, once more facing the childhood friend she hadn’t seen for so long, the one she thought of day and night.

With the fire burned away, she could finally see that figure clearly.

This was a reunion after ages apart; it should have filled her with indescribable joy. So why was the scene before her so utterly different from what she’d imagined?

Weren’t they supposed to et under sunset-washed streets, beside murmuring water, at the two ends of a little bridge scored by ti? To find each other there, gaze from afar?

She would be in a fluttering white dress, tears of joy shining in her eyes.

She herself would wear a sharp, tailored suit, a freshly picked rose pinned to her chest, her smile gentle.

They would wave across the small bridge; the wind chi under the eaves would ring. No words spoken—but everything... understood.

—Wasn’t that how it should have been?

But now.

At this mont.

She was in a white dress—even more stunning than ever before.

Not only that, she was shrouded head to toe in a halo called “Saintess,” a mantle she didn’t quite know what to do with.

And herself?

Ariel looked down at her own state.

The carefully chosen fitted suit had been torn to rags in the earlier battle.

—There’d been no helping it. Against two full Fifth-Rank martialists, one Radiant-Rank mage, and over a dozen Fourth-Rank powerhouses—even she could count it a barely scraped win.

Had she not exploded mid-fight and nudged her realm up another notch, she might have fallen there.

The price... was this miserable sight.

The ripped clothes were the least of it. Reflected in her sword, her hair was a ss, her eyes blood-red. Because of the aftereffects of a certain forbidden art, black veins like little snakes crept from her collar up to her neck—downright horrifying.

In stark contrast stood that hateful guy at Liya’s side.

He was in a suit too, yet on him it fit perfectly. His tall, straight fra filled out the lines with ease. The gold collar and cuffs set off his nobility at just the right pitch. The bespoke tailoring put him miles beyond the off-the-rack stuff she’d grabbed from a roadside shop.

Paired with sun-spilled golden hair and a strikingly handso face, he looked—damn it—even more suited to stand beside a maiden than she did...

As if her wretched entrance weren’t bad enough, the universe had planted a textbook example right beside it.

Could anything in this world be sadder?

After a brief, hollow silence, Ariel’s lips trembled. She finally spoke:

“Liya, I—”

Boom!

Her words hadn’t even begun when a violent roar made all three inside the palanquin freeze.

Outside the gauze, the sky brightened at once. So ban that had been drawn across the heavens retreated completely with a helpless sigh.

Then the wind howled in.

The white veils draped over the great palanquin were torn wide open.

All three looked up at the sa ti—sohow, ranks of knights in gleaming silver armor had already encircled the palanquin three deep, then three more.

At their head stood the very one who’d briefly crossed swords with Ariel earlier—Siel. He glared into the palanquin at Ariel as if mortally insulted, and he raised his longsword in fury.

“Everyone—alive, take this villain who dared disturb the sacred procession and attempted to assassinate Her Highness!”

“Wash away the sha of the Sanctum Knights—right here, right now!”

“Advance!”

Amid the deafening roar, Muen and Liya stared, stunned, as chains of binding prohibitions rained from the sky. For a mont, golden light filled the air—magnificent beyond words.

The two of them were struck dumb.

And Ariel—Ariel was on the verge of tears.

So there was sothing more tragic after all.

Too bad—she no longer had a shred of strength left to resist.

All she could do, under Liya’s blank, stunned gaze, was get slamd to the floor and, with both hands clamped over her face, wear a twisted mask of pain and helplessness. Tears in her voice, a forced smile on her lips, she shook her head hard:

“Uu... Liya, don’t look—don’t look at ...”

“Uu-uu... it hurts... please... don’t look at ...”