The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 464: The Last Dinner

“Mom, I’m back.”

The slightly shabby door was pushed open. Emily bounced into the house, calling out with lively energy.

The room was a bit dim. Emily felt around on the cabinet to the side, intending to light a candle, but then suddenly rembered how the Mayor Auntie had told her today that there absolutely must be no open fla, so she let it go.

She didn’t know why there had never been such a rule in past years, but Emily felt that since it was said by the Mayor Auntie who knew everything, then it certainly couldn’t be wrong.

The Goddess must really hate flas; in previous years it was precisely because there was fire that they failed to invite the Goddess’s blessing.

This year she had to obey, because her mother’s health was getting worse day by day.

Fortunately, Emily had long since gotten used to pitch-black nights; after all, to save money, her ho wasn’t lit by candles every single evening.

Emily shut the door and carefully latched all three security chains. After making sure the door was locked, she softened her steps and tiptoed toward the inner room.

She had been too excited just now and hadn’t considered what to do if Mom had already fallen asleep.

“Emily, are you back?”

At that mont, a gentle voice ca from the innermost room, making Emily pause mid-step. She stuck out her tongue playfully, then scratched her head in embarrassnt.

“Did I wake you up, Mom?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep yet. Tonight’s a big day for the town—how could I possibly sleep so early?” the person in the room said with a soft laugh.

Emily turned to look. Though it was already completely dark outside, the antique wall clock on the wall only pointed to around eight o’clock; it wasn’t that late.

Because of long-term illness, Mom’s sleep had never been regular anyway.

“Then I’ll go boil your dicine!”

Emily started bouncing again, a sweet smile blooming on her little face smudged pale by cheap powder.

She went to the kitchen, deftly put today’s herbs into the decoction pot, ladled the right amount of water from the water jar, and with so effort set the pot on the stove.

After finishing all that, Emily let out a long breath and proudly wiped the sweat from her forehead.

But just as she was about to continue, she ran into a problem.

They couldn’t build a fire today—so how was she supposed to boil Mom’s dicine?

Not boil it?

That wouldn’t do either. Mom had to drink her dicine every night before sleep, or she would definitely wake in the middle of the night from pain.

That was also why, even though the festival was at its liveliest, she had co back ho especially—Mom needed dicine on schedule every day.

“What do I do, what do I do?”

Emily fell into worry.

Just then, while she hesitated, a figure appeared at the doorway.

“No need to boil it.”

The faint starlight outside outlined the woman’s pale face.

“I boiled it in advance and already drank it. We won’t offend the Goddess.”

“Huh? Mom?”

Seeing the figure leaning /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ on the doorfra, Emily stared in surprise, eyes wide.

“You can get out of bed?”

“Mm.”

The woman smiled.

“Maybe the dicine worked better this ti. I feel much better.”

She stepped out from the shadows and stood before Emily.

Emily looked her mother up and down and discovered she really could stand and move properly now—at least she didn’t need soone to help her just to barely walk, like before.

Emily grew even happier. She felt that her efforts had worked: with the festival made as lively as lively could be, perhaps the Goddess’s gaze truly had fallen upon her beloved mom.

“Mom, do you want to eat sothing? I’ll make it for you!”

After being excited for a while, Emily suddenly rembered that Mom didn’t seem to have had dinner yet. She had planned to bring sothing tasty back from the festival, but now that Mom was already up, she couldn’t worry about that anymore.

She rembered there should still be a little food at ho.

“No need.”

But the woman shook her head and petted Emily’s head fondly.

“Let cook. It suddenly occurred to —it's been so long since I made you sothing to eat.”

“Eh, but...”

“No buts. Doesn’t little Emily miss Mom’s cooking?”

“I... I do!”

Emily blinked. In her mory, it really had been a long ti since she’d eaten food her mother made.

That taste had long since faded. She only vaguely rembered that every ti she ate Mom’s cooking, it made her feel especially at ease.

“B-but, we can’t light a fire today.”

Emily rembered this important matter, and her mood fell again.

“It’s fine.”

But the woman’s smile stayed gentle, as if she didn’t want sothing as small as this to disturb the big event of a mother cooking for her daughter.

“I have a way.”

“Really...”

With that last doubt dispelled, Emily’s eyes sparkled. “That’s great!”

“Go play for a bit. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Like an ordinary mother, she shooed Emily off to play and herself walked into the pitch-black kitchen.

That strange, never-before-felt sensation left Emily a little dazed. She stood there for a long ti.

“So that’s it—Mom can adapt to this dark environnt too. No need for lamp or fire.”

Emily wiped at the corners of her eyes. A certain warmth filled her heart. Even the noisy insect song at this mont sounded especially pleasant.

Emily returned to her own room. In truth, the empty room didn’t have anything for her to play with.

She simply sat at the head of the bed and habitually picked up the family photo that was extrely precious for an ordinary household, then carefully wiped it.

Screee—

From the kitchen ca the sound of blades grinding—that was her mom sharpening the knife, getting ready to make her a long-missed dinner.

Emily sniffled a little, wiping the photo. By the dim light outside the window, she looked at the rugged man in the picture who had once been the best hunter in town.

“Dad, Mom’s illness is getting better. Do you see? Before long she’ll be able to take out to fly kites again—she promised .”

Next was herself in the photo. Different from now, carefree—possessing the innocence that belonged to her age.

Lastly, Mom...

The mom in the photo was the sa as Mom now—so gentle, so kind, and so...

Emily’s little hand paused.

She stared blankly at the smiling, amiable woman in the picture.

Thud—

A sharp chopping sound ca from the kitchen, as if a sharp knife were cutting sothing.

Emily flinched, nearly dropping the family photo.

But she didn’t pay attention to the sounds from the kitchen at all. It was like she’d been shocked; she put the photo back where it belonged.

Her small chest heaved, and even the heavy powder couldn’t hide what surfaced on that little face... terror.

Thud—

Another loud sound, as if the woman hadn’t held the knife steady and accidentally let it fall to the floor.

“M—Mom?”

Emily finally snapped out of it and called anxiously:

“Are... are you okay?”

“E-Emily.”

Mom’s voice sounded.

But it wasn’t the gentle voice Emily knew.

That voice was hoarse, low, like the lant of soone drowning, carrying a suffocating quality that made one shiver.

“Emily, do... do you rember... rember what your father... left you?”

“Eh? What?”

Before Emily could understand what Mom ant, the woman’s voice returned to normal.

“Ah, little Emily, sorry, I accidentally dropped the knife. Seems I haven’t moved in too long—my body’s still a bit stiff.”

“I—is that so?”

“Co, hurry and eat. Dinner’s ready.”

The woman slowly walked out of the kitchen. In one hand she still held a kitchen knife that had been ground very sharp; in the other she balanced a battered tray bearing a square piece of at.

The at looked delicious. The mont Emily stepped out of her room, it set her craving alight; saliva flooded her mouth, and her stomach growled.

“What’s wrong? Not coming over?”

The woman looked in puzzlent at Emily, who stood there in a daze.

“This is your favorite thing to eat.”

“I... I want to use the bathroom.”

She glanced at the at that really was her favorite, then looked up at the mother she loved most. Emily suddenly spoke.

“The bathroom?”

The woman froze, then pretended to frown in annoyance and scolded:

“You child—how have you still not changed that habit? You always have to use the bathroom before eating. Go on, go, and rember to wash your hands!”

“...Mm.”

Hearing that familiar scolding, Emily’s small body trembled, but she still turned and headed for the bathroom—the direction opposite the kitchen and closer to the front door.

The woman waited quietly, humming a lovely little tune. It was the lullaby Emily liked best.

Soon, Emily returned.

She looked up at her mother and said:

“Mom, can you give a hug?”

“Mm? You child, dinner’s ready. Why are you acting up again?”

“N-no... I just... it’s just been so long since I hugged you.”

“You can.”

Her eyes gentle, the woman walked over slowly, still holding the sharp kitchen knife as she naturally opened her arms.

“After the hug, you’ll eat properly. If you don’t like this, I have a second course.”

“Mm.”

Emily nodded lightly, then... extended the hands she’d been hiding behind her back.

In that mont, what greeted the woman was not a hug, but...

A crossbow.

Twang—

The bolt fired, slicing through the air.

It was an ordinary chanical crossbow, made small and neat, with no trace of magic. Naturally it wasn’t contraband; it was just a relic left by a hunter to protect his family.

Even so, it wasn’t sothing a little girl could fully control. The bolt that had been properly aid suddenly kicked upward under the strong recoil, skimming over the woman’s head and nailing into the wall to the side.

The woman staggered and fell to the floor, her expression instantly going blank.

“Why?”

“B-because...”

Emily too was slamd hard against the wall by the recoil and slid down it slowly.

Clutching the crossbow tight, her tender voice grew hoarse and trembling.

“My mom is a gentle, kind, beautiful person.

She has lovely brown hair and the brightest eyes in town.

Her face is prettier than the spring fields, and when she smiles, it’s like a flower blooming.

She loves her daughter most, and her daughter loves her most.

But...

My mom... doesn’t have insects on her head!”

Through misty tears, Emily saw her mother’s appearance at this mont.

Her brown hair was withered and ssy. The once-lovely face was shriveled and pale, the eye sockets sunken; her eyes were no longer bright.

Most importantly, on the top of her head, a fist-sized, pitch-black, enormous insect was coiled there—its ferocious mouthparts probing into the skull, happily ** the woman’s brain matter.

Perhaps because Emily had inadvertently broken this cognitive misdirection, the insect let out an angry screech. Its hideous limbs scraped and writhed.

The woman convulsed violently in response. With a grotesque motion, she suddenly crawled up from the floor, her four limbs spasming wildly as if each had a will of its own. Like a beast, she looked as if she might pounce at any mont on her beloved daughter.

But the woman’s movents suddenly stopped.

One side of her face was twisted and ferocious with rage, while the other side, tears flowing, smiled gently.

“Emily... you did very well.”

The woman said softly:

“Next... aim at .”