The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

I gazed up at the glittering pile.

A moment later, an ogre offered me a wooden stool.

Even that wasn’t enough.

As I craned my neck, what blocked the view of the stars above The Gentle Princess was a mountain of hats rivalling the night sky in sparkless.

Whether it was a tiara embedded with rubies or a farmer’s hat still decorated with specks of mud, each item still managed to gleam … along with the remainder of the toiletries.

Yes.

Before me was all that the hells had to offer in compensation, requisitioned from the shelves and various cabinets beneath the bathroom sinks.

“Pwaaah~”

There was also Coppelia.

Taking a deep breath as she emerged from the top of the pile, she crawled her way out, causing a minor avalanche before sliding down the pile of glittering and cursed headwear.

Her smile made it clear she wished to do it again.

Instead, she diligently lounged upon the base of the mountain and nodded.

“Okay!” she said confidently. “I’ve calculated the total value of every item here!”

I clapped my hands in delight.

“Wonderful! How much is it?”

“A lot.”

“Truly? That’s excellent news! What kind of a lot?”

“The kind where you could offer it to dwarves to build a new castle and instead of haggling they offer to add an additional tower for free.”

I gasped.

“My, that’s … that’s unprecedented! This must truly be a vast … no, a ludicrous sum!”

“Mmh~! It’ll be really handy. When I told your overworked stewards how many basement floors my legitimate tower needed, I was worried they were going to fill up the hole with sweat.”

“I’m afraid that’s still a problem you need to solve. Preferably before it becomes a public hazard. Why, with this sum, there shall be no room for dawdling! In addition to your tower, I’ll be able to complete the princess bastion. My bedroom door will be the most secure in the world.”

Coppelia nodded with enthusiasm, knowing she’d be able to test my impenetrable defences.

“That’s great! … Except there might be a problem.”

“Well, I’ll also have my magical bed blocking it.”

“Not that. I mean you’re going to have to find people willing to accept cursed hats as legal tender.”

“Oh? In that case, there won’t be any issue. I intend to convert all of this into easily portable gold crowns first.”

“Eh? Is there a spell for that?”

“Yes, it’s called [Princess Entrepreneurship].”

“Uwah~ the people buying from you won’t have any idea what to expect.”

“Indeed, it’ll be hopelessly unfair, but also necessary. The Royal Villa has quite enough cursed artifacts already. Much better to be rid of everything while still in a semi-tidy pile.”

I smiled with confidence, then gave a shake of my bottomless pouch.

“... Ohohoho! Fortunately for all, I’m willing to offer a bulk discount. And there just so happens to be merchants loitering in my royal capital with no lack of finances when it comes to buying suspicious objects.”

Coppelia raised her arms and beamed.

“Trolls~!”

“Trolls.”

Ohohohohohoho!

Indeed, as expert curators, trolls could appraise in moments what a host of mages would need years to accomplish. And when they were done, I’d offer everything as a single discounted pile costing exactly everything they possessed–both here and in Troll Country.

… That’s right!

I would not only enrich myself, but do it at the expense of the locusts of the continent!

Rather than just arduously selling my hat mountain piecemeal, I would take the opportunity to bankrupt Troll Country, earning back all the taxes they’ve forgotten to pay … and that meant all my marriage concerns disappearing!

It … It was perfect!

The trolls would be my first and last customers! And once my personal finances were secure, nobody could afford to harass me! After all, I could simply bribe the worst of my suitors away!

Ohohoho!

Yes, there were few problems that being outrageously wealthy couldn’t fix.

Quack, quack.

… But if I had to name one of them, it would be the corner of the ship everyone was ignoring.

Not even the gulls would approach.

Possibly since they could sense that at least one of the ducks was indestructible, but also because it was currently occupied by a pair of elves in deep conversation.

Somehow finding the shadowiest spot even amidst the night, the Snow Dancer and the elven lady from before, who I now knew to be her mother, both wore serious expressions as they paid no heed to the world around them.

Seeing them together, the resemblance was almost uncanny.

After all ... they shared the same feeling of being completely up to no good.

Despite the elven lady having kindly opened a portal for me, she had neither requested nor provided any opportunity for me to offer a smile as gratitude. She’d immediately abducted her daughter and now they were doing what elves only did.

Plotting.

I watched, mildly horrified, as the elven lady nodded, her brows creased in seriousness, all the while mimicking an explosion. The Snow Dancer responded by raising her hand, before pretending to stab the air with an invisible knife.

Whether they were arguing or agreeing was a mystery.

I pursed my lips as I listened to the doomsday clock ticking down.

“... Coppelia?”

“Mmh~?”

“Did you know that there’s a popular saying regarding elves–that two’s a pair and three’s a conspiracy?”

“It kinda looks like you only need two for a conspiracy.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

For several moments, I fought against my better instincts to ask Coppelia what they were discussing, which princess it involved and when the murder was going to happen.

Instead, I witnessed them exchanging nods, before both turned in my direction.

The Snow Dancer offered a maidenly smile and a wave. She pointed to the ground several times, then cupped her hands to either side of her lips and mouthed something.

The elven lady beside her offered a kindly smile far different from how she appeared when I might have hired her familiar. She then offered a bow, before reaching out to her daughter.

A small glimmer of magic appeared. The Snow Dancer reached down to scoop up her ducks.

Snap.

And then they were gone in a brief haze of magic.

I turned to Coppelia.

“... What did the Snow Dancer say at the end there?”

“I think it was, ‘I’ll be right back. No dying yet.’”

I sighed into my palms.

Normally, the Snow Dancer skipping away before she could admit to any more crimes was useful. Except that if I knew anything about how that woman worked, it was that she was about to do something more inconvenient than what any devil could accomplish.

And now there were two of them.

Neither of whom were fishing for whatever treasure was rusting in the bottom of the lake.

A problem.

… And one that was now a mid-level underling’s.

“Guhh … ungh …”

The sound of rehabilitation came from the side.

Overseen by the ogres as they gleefully pointed, laughed and poked at someone officially lower ranked than them, the latest hoodlum that Reitzlake’s sewers had to offer was busy scrubbing away with a bar of soap.

Sweat dripped down his face, falling onto a smudge.

More would be needed.

Black as infernal flames, it was where the hat merchant’s soles had been as he lounged against the mast. And that meant the person responsible for summoning him needed to clean it up.

“I think you missed a spot,” said Coppelia, pointing helpfully at the large smudge.

“Yes, I missed the blackness upon all of your souls,” he said wearily. “This is not how someone of my stature should be treated. Had most of my peers not died in mysterious circumstances, they’d be advocating for my better treatment.”

“If you want, I can advocate for better soap. This one looks like it’s about to run out.”

“The quantity is irrelevant. This smudge was caused by the shadow of something so evil that it causes darkness itself to flee. It cannot be cleaned.”

“That’s just pragmatism and the principles of solubility talking. If you really put your heart into it, you can achieve anything. That’s my favourite lie.”

“Heart has little to do with achievement. Ample preparation does. Something I see has increasingly little bearing these days. I wonder why I even bother preparing a stage.”

The ogres parted to make room for me. I chose to remain where I was.

“My, it seems you need to work on your improvisation skills,” I said. “All the world’s a stage, and it has ever been harsh towards poor actors. You are quite lucky there are no crates of rotten fruit.”

The man paused long enough to offer me a thoughtful look.

He continued when an ogre poked him.

“Indeed, it is, Your Highness,” he said, almost whimsically. “I confess I’ve rather fallen by the wayside. There’s something to be said about a finely honed script, but also for the spontaneity of the mind. I believe I’ve succumbed to the same trap as many of my predecessors.”

“Now that’s simply far too much of a critique. After all, your performance ended in success.”

“I don’t consider scrubbing to be a sign of success.”

“Then you should see what failure looks like, particularly for those who seek to earn ultimate power from devils. Scrubbing is very much the happiest ending.”

The man braved a chuckle, stopping immediately when the nearest ogre leaned towards him.

“Then I suppose this is a worthy fate, for ultimate power was never my wish. Mine was a bit more modest. All I sought was a spectacle worthy of the good people of Reitzlake. It’s a crime that they cannot experience a good showing even if they pay for it. They certainly won’t find it under the damp ceiling of the Royal Arc Theatre.”

“Indeed, the Royal Arc Theatre is home to the worst plays that foreign diplomats must watch out of cultural obligation. You would fail to even reach the auditions. My apologies, but directors have no shortage of mid-level underlings. It’s a deeply competitive field.”

“I am not a mid-level underling,” the man snapped, all the while remembering to scrub. “I am the Dancing Rat, and under my purview, the royal capital was gripped in a fervour of drama, betrayal and violence like none other.”

“Please. That is called a tea party. And it happens every afternoon.”

“The War of the Streets was not a tea party. It was a festival celebrating the worst of the criminal underworld. And now that I, the head of the Thieves Guild has finally been apprehended, it is only fitting that I find a place in a dungeon alongside those I once called my own.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Hm. How curious.”

“What is, Your Highness?”

“You say ‘finally’, and yet you’ve the odour of someone who’s accustomed to escaping dungeons.”

The man shrugged, offering no denial.

“We all have our talents. Mine is not overstaying my part.”

“Wonderful. Then I hope you indulge in your next escape. Soap Island currently lacks for sewers, but it has the Emerald Sea. It shall be a scenic swim.”

“Yes, and also a brief one. Rats are good swimmers, but even they have limits. My solution instead is to not be incarcerated on an island inhabited by the Golden Bore. That would be a waste of my talents.”

“I hardly see why. Background Tree already makes for an excellent prop. Together, you two could discover true invisibility.”

The prospective extra squeezed his bar of soap until bubbles started appearing.

“I’ve a better suggestion,” he said, glancing towards a familiar silhouette in the distance. “A dungeon worthy of my stature. And also what I have to offer. Send me to the bottom of Reitzlake Castle, far enough from the Crown Prince’s nose, but near enough to his ears. I have information that he will find extremely pertinent.”

I let out a gasp.

“Oh? In that case, why didn’t you say so? Please summarise all the relevant lies on the way to Soap Island. Somebody will pass them along.”

“The degree of lies will lessen depending on my treatment. For know this, Your Highness–I am neither here alone nor of my own accord. I am intimately familiar with the darkness which hounds you. And my knowledge is available for a very reasonable price.”

He raised himself slightly, the scrubbing coming to a halt.

But this time, no ogre came to poke him.

“Should you pay it, I will reveal to you those your sword cannot reach. I will list each and every shadow that has infiltrated the crevices of your home. I will pull aside at last the curtain which mutes the footsteps and hides the faces of those you seek the most. I will speak of that which haunts your every movement, so that perhaps you, and you alone may disperse it. I will offer you the secrets of … Lotus House.”

A glint of triumph appeared in the man’s eyes, as though arriving at a destination he had set upon since long in the past.

He wore a satisfied smile.

A smile which slowly became more puzzled, mirroring my own.

“... Excuse me?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Lotus House,” he said, stumbling very slightly. “Those … monsters you have fought silently in the shadows throughout your kingdom. While I am not an official member and thus not liable for any actions committed while unwillingly coerced into doing their bidding at threat of my life, I still have plentiful information to exchange. A cheap price for the comforts of a castle dungeon, for everything concerning Lotus House is ruinously expensive.”

Several moments passed.

“Who?” I asked, failing to recall that name at all.

The man stared.

“A fine jest, Your Highness … but you needn’t pretend any longer. That part of the Grand Dance is over, and now we are onto the next. It is now the main sequence, where the hems twirl amidst daggers pressed upon backs. You have been openly thwarting Lotus House all the way from the steps of your home to the borders of your kingdom, your footwork sweeping us aside as cleanly as the righteousness of your blade.”

I looked at him in confusion.

“I have never heard of this … Lotus House. What is it? Are you referring to a clothing atelier?”

“... Hm?”

“If so, I’ve no wish to hear their complaints. What my royal seamstress does in her spare time has nothing to do with me. I’m not responsible for any lost sales.”

The man blinked several times.

Then … his mouth slowly widened as he stared.

“My gods,” he said. “You … You have no idea who we are, do you?”

“Absolutely not. Nor do I care to. There are always organisations with dull names in the shadows. What each middling one does is beyond the attention of either myself or the Crown Prince. If an errant … lotus grows, we can simply uproot it.”

“You cannot uproot Lotus House.” The man’s voice was suddenly an extra octave higher. “They are the darkness which light fears, cast by the figure of none other than the Grand Duchess herself. They are–”

“Ohohohohohoho!!”

I immediately raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.

A look of utter shock came over the man. And for good reason. He could already tell that he was about to learn something common sense should have already taught him.

“Ohohoho … please, is that meant to alarm me?”

“Lotus House is–”

“A fanciful name for weeds. But it cannot be helped. Her shadow is everywhere. It blocks my view. It’s only natural that unwanted foliage should grow in plentiful amounts. And all of it can be removed.”

“Not all of it,” the man insisted, clutching his bar of soap. “And certainly not without my insight. I am willing to provide it. I simply need my various demands met.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

What the demands were, I would never know.

Joining the waves gently crashing against The Gentle Princess came the sound of bells as Reitzlake’s docks welcomed our swift return.

An unexpected ceremony awaited as crowds gathered, each curious festivalgoer none the wiser as they expressed their joy at the sight of the kingdom’s finest ever ship, its deck now alight with the many torches carried by all those still searching for any stowaways.

Most of all, however, was the smile of their beautiful princess.

Ohohohohoho!

Indeed, it only made sense that they would be there to welcome me!

Yes … even if for some reason, that also included foreign delegations!

There were the guards as they attempted to convince the crowd that there was no event taking place, the sweat clear upon their faces. There were the dockworkers and sailors forced away from the taverns as they rushed to make sense of whatever rumours they had heard.

However, there was also the distinctive group bearing the civil attire of the Granholtz Embassy with its ambassador at the helm.

A curious thing.

After all, there was no diplomatic reason that he should feel the need to welcome The Gentle Princess after returning from what was officially a brief patrol of the lake.

Even so, it wasn’t the ambassador who drew my eye as I leaned over the edge of the ship.

It was the maiden who stood slightly before him.

She was clearly far younger in age, and yet she waited in the highest position of honour amongst their group.

Unlike the rest, she alone wore the uniform of a military officer … albeit one slightly different from any I’d seen before.

And not in a chaste way.

Black with delicate lines of gold and a peaked cap, it would almost have been normal were it not for the skirt with garter belts and stockings.

A thing so scandalous I was rendered speechless.

Yet it wasn’t her choice of legwear that demanded my attention.

It was the expectant smile.

And the eyes of contrasting scarlet and gold.