The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 573: Biting Back

He was an old man who looked very ordinary.

His clothes weren’t as ornate as a noble’s, and his bearing remindered of no high-ranking authority. Though he wore a smile, his eyes were turbid, his presence weak, and his complexion even a little pale. Compared with the imperial ministers around him, he seed out of place.

Like a common wealthy old gentleman who had wandered into the Empire’s highest-level political struggle by mistake.

But...

The family-crest signet ring with a ruby on his finger, and that familiar face known to everyone present, made Sharp—who had been full of confidence, ready to take revenge for last night—freeze in place in an instant. His montum collapsed completely, and he stood there like a wooden chicken.

"Fa... Father?"

Like he’d seen a ghost, Sharp strained his eyes wide, his pupils reflecting the old man who rely smiled and watched him. Seeing ghosts in broad daylight was of course impossible. Sharp thought soone had used magic on him and produced a hallucination.

But then again, this was the palace. The forbidden spell that shrouded the palace sealed all use of magic power and battle qi. No one would dare use any illusion magic on him here.

Yet this was precisely what shouldn’t have been possible—because the real Old Dion should be...

Sharp stiffly turned his head and saw Prince Albert on the other side of the long table.

At this mont Albert’s face was terrifyingly dark, his gaze also locked on the old man. But Celicia was seated right beside him, acting extrely concerned and asking after him with warmth, forcing him to put on a smile and respond.

Seeing this scene, in an instant, Sharp understood.

This was yet another of Princess Celicia’s thods. After realizing she couldn’t harm Albert’s soul through the connection to the body, she imdiately changed her approach and began making a play with Old Dion’s body.

This was sothing he had thought about all night—many possible ways Princess Celicia might respond to his pressure—yet he still hadn’t thought of this. He also couldn’t understand how Princess Celicia could make a body with no soul, and not even a brain, move. So in that instant, he was even a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

"Sharp? Sharp? Lord Sharp!"

Pink Bear snapped the dazed Sharp back to reality. Then, from who-knows-where, he produced a curly white wig and put it on his head, and took out a monocle. Like an excellent high judge, he put on airs and carefully flipped through the letters in his hands with round bear eyes.

"About my question just now—can you explain?"

"..."

Explain?

How could he explain?

Say that was only Father’s body, now being used by Princess Celicia; that Father’s true soul was inside the Crown Prince’s body?

"Fake!"

After a mont of silence, Sharp suddenly pointed at the old man and gritted his teeth. "This is a fake. He isn’t my father! My father is already dead!"

Even though he knew it wasn’t fake—on so level, that truly was his “father”—Sharp also knew very well that at a ti like this, he absolutely could not acknowledge it. Because the mont he acknowledged it, the other side could make far too much of that identity.

"Oh? Fake? To directly say your own father is a fake—what an unexpected claim."

Pink Bear pushed up the monocle that reflected so inexplicable light.

"So, does Lord Sharp think everyone here is blind—unable to tell whether this is Marquis Dion or not? Besides, I rember that before entering the palace, you have to have your identity checked, right? Do you think a fake could swagger into the palace so openly, and then swagger before us so openly?"

"Th..." Sharp choked.

"Ah, I get it!"

Pink Bear slapped a bear paw and spoke as if suddenly enlightened.

"This is that thing—your dead father was too worried about his unpromising son, so he specially returned from the dead to visit. A moving story, huh?"

"No, the palace is covered by a forbidden spell. A dead soul couldn’t get in either, alright."

At the side, Marquis Angus had been flipping through the detailed files about last night’s attack on the estate and Sharp’s accusation against Celicia. Seeing Pink Bear getting more and more off the rails, he could only helplessly interrupt and take over.

"As for this matter—setting aside the many contradictory and bizarre points—Mr. Sharp says his father, that is, the old Marquis Dion, has already died. But the problem is: a marquis’s death is a huge matter. Why have we received no news?"

"Th... that’s because, because the Empire’s situation has been too turbulent recently. If word of Father’s death got out at a ti like this, it would be bad for House Dion, so I sealed the news!"

Sharp abruptly looked at Celicia and said in a low voice, "Princess Celicia also knew this. When she visited, I told her this—"

"Sorry."

Celicia cut him off. She took a light sip of coffee and said unhurriedly, "I’m the defendant right now. It’s not good for to say anything at a ti like this, so don’t ask ."

"..."

Sharp’s furious expression stiffened on his face. His pale lips opened and closed, but he could no longer say anything.

He swept his gaze around, looking at those faces full of suspicion, looking at Celicia’s impassive face, then looking at Albert, who had been silent from start to finish. And suddenly he realized: to prove that a leading “real” person was a fake—especially when that person was his father—was simply impossible for him.

Unless he had the guts to throw everything out into the open right now.

"As for this, allow to explain."

The old Marquis Dion, who had been watching the whole ti, suddenly stood up. After nodding politely to everyone, he looked at his “son.” The smile on his face suddenly beca three parts anger, three parts disappointnt, three parts complicated.

"This matter must start with last night’s attack on the marquis’s estate."

"Please speak."

Pink Bear sohow produced an enormous bucket of popcorn and sat ready for battle.

"I believe everyone has received the news. Last night, the Dion marquis’s estate was attacked by unknown rioters and suffered heavy losses. And among the rumors, there is one saying Princess Celicia sent people to attack the estate."

"That’s right."

Everyone nodded.

Although only one night had passed, perhaps under the push of certain interested parties, the rumor that Princess Celicia personally planned this attack had already spread among many Upper City nobles.

"As for this matter, I can guarantee it with the face of a marquis’s house... it’s true."

"Ridiculous—this matter was clearly—huh? What did you say?"

Sharp, who had been holding in a bellyful of words ready to refute, froze, staring at the old Marquis Dion in disbelief.

"I said, this matter is true. Princess Celicia is indeed the mastermind behind the attack on the marquis’s estate!"

The old Marquis Dion °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° spoke with absolute certainty. Just as everyone was shocked that he dared so bluntly point the spear at the princess, Celicia nodded.

"That’s right. I did it. I can’t deny it."

"Hm?"

This ti, even the others were truly at a loss. Openly attacking a marquis’s estate was a grave cri. Even a princess might not be able to bear it. Celicia just admitted it like that?

"As for the reason—"

"The reason is for ."

The old Marquis Dion took over, pressing a hand to his chest, his face full of sincerity and gratitude.

"Her Highness attacked the marquis’s estate to save —to save this old man who was imprisoned by his own unfilial son. And this was also sothing I begged Her Highness to do in secret."

"Hah? Imprisoned? Save... save you?"

Sharp was completely dumbfounded.

Save you—what kind of joke is that? Back then you were a corpse. How do you save a corpse?

And what is this imprisonnt nonsense? You can’t just lie like this. Why would I imprison a corpse?

"Is that so?"

The one who was dazed was Sharp. The others, who didn’t yet know the full truth, instead nodded thoughtfully.

Judging by how father and son looked completely at odds now, sothing like this really was possible. They were nobles, after all. Through all ages, what disgusting business of fathers and sons and brothers killing each other hadn’t happened in great noble houses? It sounded far more plausible than “a dead soul returned” or “a corpse revived.”

"My rebellious son, taking advantage of my severe illness, imprisoned and seized the marquis’s authority for himself. It’s truly infuriating."

The old Marquis Dion clenched a fist and shook his head.

"But if it were only that, I could have accepted my fate. After all, I don’t have many years left. If it’s sothing that should be given to him, then give it to him."

"But... once I realized a certain matter, I could no longer sit still. I could not sit by and watch my rebellious son drag House Dion into the abyss of destruction, nor could I watch him continue down the wrong path. That’s why, taking advantage of the ti Princess Celicia ca to visit last ti, I secretly contacted her and asked her to rescue ."

"I see."

Even Pink Bear finally turned solemn. While continuing to stuff popcorn into his bear mouth, he asked seriously, "And the certain matter you realized refers to...?"

"That matter is..."

The old Marquis Dion lifted his head, drew a deep breath, then beat his chest and stamped his feet, speaking slowly, one word at a ti.

"That rebellious son actually participated in the assassination of Prince Albert in the Lower City not long ago!"

"Hah?"

"Hm?"

"What?"

At those words, even the ministers who usually had excellent composure couldn’t help showing shocked expressions.

Although they had prepared to eat lon—no, to welco the truth—they hadn’t expected the hidden filth to involve such a major case.

There was no need to describe how much upheaval the last assassination case had caused across the Empire, because even a prince had been buried in it.

The detailed threads of that case had been under investigation the whole ti. Although the mastermind had been determined to be Prince Andrew, who was now dead, so of his supporters were still hidden in the fog. Recent investigations, under obstruction from all sides, had also begun to show signs of being quietly dropped.

After all, no one wanted to offend the many great nobles behind the scenes for the sake of a prince who was already dead. Those pushed out to take the blade were mostly just insignificant small fish and shrimp.

But now, the hand behind that matter was actually exposed under these circumstances—and it was a father reporting his own son?

What kind of fairy tale was this?

Supporting princes, placing bets, physically eliminating competitors—everyone did it, but once it got exposed, heads would roll!