The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 64: The Love God’s Whisper (4)

Smoke billowed thick through the air.

The # Nоvеlight # aftershock had kicked up a violent gust, whipping Muen’s blond hair into a tousled ss.

His heart was equally disheveled.

Fortunately, his heart was resilient.

With grilled fish in hand, Muen paused in thought, then slowly turned his head away.

—Let’s pretend I didn’t see that.

Just a teor strike. It’s not like so symbiotic alien is going to crawl out of it and announce an invasion of Earth or anything. No reason to panic.

He was a man who’d been hit by a dump truck and lived to tell the tale, even got transmigrated across worlds. How could he possibly lack this much composure?

Fish. Focus on the fish. Don’t worry about it.

Crunch—

Just as Muen was about to sink his teeth into the fragrant grilled fish, a shrill, teeth-grinding sound cut through the lingering smoke at the impact site.

It sounded like tal opening.

Huh?

Muen froze, mouth still open in mid-bite.

tal opening?

You’re just a goddamn teor. Why would you make a sound like that?

Wait a second...

Could it be...

A spaceship?

His eyes flew wide open.

It wasn’t a teor—it was a lost spaceship!

And that sound—wasn’t it the ship’s hatch creaking open? The aliens inside were just about to erge, ready to take their first historic steps on solid ground.

“One small step for ... one giant leap for Zetan-kind...”

Sorry, got a little off track there.

Still. Aliens! He kind of wanted to see them with his own eyes...

Wait no, what the hell is he thinking? This world runs on western fantasy tropes. If aliens actually showed up, readers would accuse the author of writing complete dogshit.

So yeah, probably not aliens.

But it didn’t matter.

Right now, he had a mission: eat this damn fish.

And not even Jesus could stop him.

“Cough, cough...”

Just as Muen made another attempt to bite into the grilled fish, he heard a coughing fit behind him—soone hacking from the smoke.

The voice. It sounded... familiar.

Sounded a lot like Anne.

Hah. Yeah, right. No way. He’d run so damn far—how would she even find him?

It’s not like she’s a bloodhound, tracking him by scent from kiloters away.

“...?”

But. And this was a big “but.”

There was a tiny, tiny chance...

That it was Anne.

That tallic opening sound—if it had co from her ability—it would all make sense.

Muen glanced down at the fish in his hands, paused for a mont... then suddenly hurled it to the ground.

“You bastard. You’ll be the death of !”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and prepared to bolt.

Not even Jesus could stop him—but Anne? Anne was scarier than Jesus.

Jesus wouldn’t lock him up and play bondage gas, after all.

But then—

“...Young Master?”

Too late.

A familiar, uncertain voice called from behind him.

Yep. It was Anne.

“...Heh...”

A dry, forced laugh rattled out of Muen’s throat. He turned his head stiffly, awkwardly trying to sound casual.

“Long ti no see, Anne. You’ve... been doing well, I hope?”

He’d planned to open with the classic bastard trifecta—sweet talk, deflect, and gaslight—but dropped the act before it even began.

Because sothing about Anne felt... off.

Her hair was disheveled, her face exhausted. The immaculate maid uniform she always wore was stained, torn in places, revealing glimpses of her pale skin beneath.

Behind her, in the crater ford by the impact, lay what appeared to be a tallic sphere—likely sothing she’d conjured herself. But its surface was now marred with brutal dents and jagged scars, like it had been viciously attacked.

“Anne... what happened?”

Even soone as oblivious as Muen could tell sothing was wrong. His smirk faded; his face turned serious.

“Were you fighting soone?”

“...”

Anne didn’t answer imdiately. She stared straight at him, eyes locked for a long mont. Then she drew in a deep breath, expression smoothing back into its usual calm as she smiled.

“It’s nothing, Young Master.”

“Bullshit. Look at yourself—”

“I just tripped.”

“Do you take for a fucking idiot?”

“I’m telling the truth.”

Anne paused, then added:

“Besides... Young Master, aren’t you going to run? If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to take you back.”

“This ti, I’ll lock you in a custom-built cage. You’ll never escape again.”

As she spoke, Anne took two steps forward, clearly about to grab him.

But Muen didn’t move.

He stood his ground, eyes fixed on hers.

Watching as she drew closer and closer.

A rare expression crept onto his face—one that carried the weight of his title as the son of a duke. The authority of a Campbell.

“Then co take .”

“...”

“Anne. Co on. Catch . I’m not running.”

“...”

Anne’s hand reached halfway, nearly brushing against him—then suddenly dropped, limp at her side.

A helpless, bitter smile crossed her face.

“This... This is the mont you’re supposed to run, isn’t it, Young Master? A once-in-a-lifeti chance...”

“You chase, I flee. If you don’t chase, why would I flee?”

Muen shrugged, offering an excuse even he didn’t believe. Then, gently:

“Tell what really happened, Anne.”

“Well...”

Anne sighed, resigned. She had just opened her mouth to speak when—

BOOM.

An earth-shaking roar erupted from the other side of the small hill behind Muen.

At the hill’s peak, a forest of trees suddenly toppled, birds too slow to escape bursting into flight in a panicked swarm.

“Master—!!”

“Where are you?! Co accept my love!”

“I love you!”

Like hundreds of people shouting at once, voices overlapped and echoed through the mountains, drilling straight into the eardrums with painful clarity.

Instinctively, Muen clapped his hands over his ears.

He didn’t even have ti to process the aning of the words before he saw it—

A creature, easily as tall as the hill itself, slowly rose into view from the other side.

“...What the hell—”

Muen stared at the monster, eyes bulging, jaw dropped wide enough to swallow an egg whole.

Grotesque flesh grew in unchecked chaos, forming twisted limbs that flailed mindlessly. Its body writhed like a mass of human parts fused together, crawling forward and leaving blood-slick trails in its wake. Any plant it touched withered instantly.

Countless deford arms and legs flailed on its surface, squirming like grass blown in an autumn wind.

And on its chest, hundreds of human faces were cramd together in a dense, hideous cluster. So crying, so laughing, so mournful, so enraged, so numb, so hopeless.

But all of them, no matter what emotion their eyes held...

...wore the sa gentle smile, whispering tenderly:

“I love you...”

“...Fuck.”

Muen shivered involuntarily, feeling his sanity drain like water from a cracked bowl.

He was just here to fish. Where the hell had this thing crawled out from?

He wracked his mory. No monster he knew of looked remotely like this.

So kind of mutant bred on nuclear waste?

No, no. This world didn’t have Japan.

Besides...

Muen’s eyes swept over the monster again, especially the grotesque clump of faces embedded in its chest, and felt a chill crawl down his spine.

There was no mistaking it.

No matter how you looked at it...

This thing used to be human.