The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 50: The Result of Training
“Master~ What are you doing in a place like this~?”
Crescent moon eyes.
So beautiful.
But right now, Muen felt like a helpless little rabbit caught in the eyes of a predator—his blood froze, and an icy chill spread from the pit of his stomach.
“A-Anne... how did you find ...?”
“Hehe~ I could sll your scent from ten ters away, Master~”
Right. If yanderes were this powerful, why not just let them bring world peace?
No ti for jokes. Every muscle in Muen’s body tensed in an instant.
He hadn’t been naive enough to pin all his hopes on a clean, stealthy escape. He’d always known this mont—facing Anne head-on—might co.
He’d trained endlessly in the Black Book for exactly this.
Bang!
Muen slamd his fist into the cabinet door.
Already old and worn, the door let out a groaning screech as it broke loose and crashed toward Anne, who’d been bracing against it.
Caught completely off guard—not just by the ambush but by the sheer force behind it—Anne stumbled backward.
Muen seized the chance. He burst out of the cabinet and launched a flying kick at the door, sending it crashing forward.
The tal door caved in, and Anne, light as a bird with broken wings, was flung backward and slamd into the wall.
“...Sorry.”
Muen muttered under his breath, then turned on his heel and bolted.
But Anne wasn’t about to let him off that easy.
BANG!
The poor cabinet door, abused once again, was sent flying back with a thunderous crash—launched like a missile toward the fleeing Muen.
He skidded to a stop and twisted sideways just in ti to dodge it.
But in that split-second, Muen’s eyes caught sothing behind the door—a shadow, trailing it like a ghost.
Anne.
Using the door as cover, she’d closed the distance. In her hand glead a dagger, cold and rciless, aid straight for Muen’s abdon.
“Don’t worry, Master. I’ve studied human anatomy for this very scenario. I won’t hit anything vital,” Anne said, expressionless.
“That’s even more terrifying!!”
Panic shot through Muen’s chest—but only for a mont.
He forced himself calm.
Without even thinking—like instinct—he raised the machete in his hand to block.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying, blades dancing so fast they left trails in the air.
Anne’s assault ca like a torrential downpour. Her dagger was practically an extension of her body, every swing executed with ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) surgical precision.
But—
Even so, Anne began to realize with shock: she couldn’t land a single blow.
The machete in Muen’s hands moved with practiced ease—as if he’d been using it all his life. Not only was he parrying her attacks with perfect timing, he was even finding gaps to counter.
But how? Her master, who had never even touched a kitchen knife under her protection all these years?
How could he wield a machete like this?
Self-taught?
Anne couldn’t comprehend it.
Just like she couldn’t comprehend how he’d escaped the cell to begin with.
“Master, when did you get so good? Have you been secretly training in martial arts?” Anne narrowed her eyes. Her Master... had changed. So much.
“Why didn’t I notice it before...?”
“Heh... who knows? Maybe I trained in my dreams or sothing.” Muen gave her a roguish smirk.
[Dagger Combat Technique LV5]!
All those sleepless nights, swinging a blade in the Black Book’s hellish loops—dying over and over again—they’d finally paid off.
Even if the machete wasn’t a true dagger, the similar shape didn’t hinder him at all.
He wasn’t just defending anymore.
Muen’s stance shifted. The machete that had just been a shield now turned into a weapon—fluid, aggressive, unpredictable.
He didn’t back away. He advanced.
“What...?”
For the first ti, a flicker of panic surfaced in Anne’s eyes.
Under Muen’s rusted blade, she found herself unable to keep up.
That was impossible.
Even if her martial training had always been limited by her duties as a maid, she’d still been practicing for years.
But Muen... she watched him every day. He had no ti, no opportunity to train.
Could he really have trained in his dreams?
“It’s over!”
In the brief mont Anne hesitated, Muen made his move—he slapped her dagger away, stepped in close, and brought the machete down toward her stomach.
At the last second, when he realized Anne couldn’t dodge, Muen’s expression twisted.
He adjusted his grip.
Struck with the flat of the blade.
Even so, the full-force blow made Anne’s body curl in pain. Her elegant face contorted, unable to mask the agony.
“It’s over.”
Muen forced down the pang of guilt in his chest and kept his expression cold.
“Anne. Your plan failed.”
“Hehe~ Master is so gentle. You used the back of the blade?”
“Well... it’s not like you’ve actually hurt . And you are still my personal maid.”
Muen sighed.
“In any case, you can’t imprison anymore. Give it up, Anne. I’ll go easy on you.”
“...Master, so you really do still love ?”
She didn’t seem to hear his reasoning at all. She lifted her head, her face flushed with sothing disturbingly unnatural.
“I love you too, Master. So why won’t you stay by my side—forever?”
“...Sorry. That kind of twisted love? I’ll pass.”
Muen shook his head.
“I see... That’s unfortunate. Then I’ll just have to win you over... with a love that burns even hotter.”
Despite the pain still etched on her face, Anne smiled.
A crazed, deranged smile.
I want it.
I want it.
I want to own you forever, my dearest Master.
“...What the—?”
Muen felt a shiver crawl down his spine.
Sothing was wrong.
Did Anne have sothing else up her sleeve?
He’d already gauged it during their fight—Anne wasn’t all that powerful. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have needed to rely on drugs or ambushes.
Which made sense. As his maid, her ti should’ve been spent caring for him, not cultivating martial strength.
At most, maybe she was just abnormally strong for her rank.
But now—every part of Muen’s body scread that sothing was coming. Sothing bad.
“Damn it. Gotta strike first!”
Without hesitation, Muen raised the machete and swung again.
Still with the blunt side.
This ti, he aid for her swan-like neck.
Knock her out. That was the plan.
But—
“Huh?!”
Muen gasped.
Because mid-swing...
The machete—froze.
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