The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

Ophelia pouted.

It wasn’t something she did often. After all, she had an image to maintain. And that was definitely as a secretive beauty who loitered in bars while everyone else paid for her drinks.

Or at least that was how it would go if she ever went to one.

Unlike all the other elves, she wasn’t a wine person. Which basically made her a social hermit.

But that was fine.

Ophelia had actual hobbies other than being constantly drunk.

She wasn’t a troublemaker … and that’s why she spent all her time sewing, baking, fishing, and very occasionally, sitting on the rooftops of cathedrals.

Not far above her, the heavens peeked between the clouds, the soft light revealing her delicate form as she dangled her legs over the edge. With the permanent breeze lifting the fragile strands of her hair, she was the very picture of a mysterious maiden doused beneath the moonlight.

A mysterious maiden who was also puffing her cheeks.

She was the Snow Dancer. Except she wasn’t the one dancing.

That was the funny clockwork doll, who definitely cheated at rock, paper, scissors–just like she cheated at stealing a dance with a princess.

Ophelia could see the bonfire in the distance, as well as the silhouettes of a princess and a clockwork doll twirling repeatedly. It wasn’t because of her elven eyes, but rather the fact that everyone else was giving them a wide berth, and she couldn’t imagine any other pair who could achieve that.

Thus, she leaned forwards, resting her elbows against her thighs and cheeks in her palms.

A thing her friendly ducks would never miss.

Quack, quack.

Ophelia glanced to the side.

Usually, Duck A and Duck B would be deciding who between them would take over the owl nest that a family had left behind.

Instead, they were both looking up in curiosity. And also admonishment.

“I’m not going to interrupt,” insisted Ophelia, allowing only the smallest of sighs to escape her lips. “Do I look like the type of elf who’d barge in on someone else’s dance? That’d just make me go from the Snow Dancer to the Snow Woman Who Hassled Other People Dancing. That’s just a mouthful.”

Quack quack.

“Okay, fine. I would. But only if I was bored. If I bother her now, that’s something I’ll definitely be punted away for. And not in a fun way. I’m too busy to walk all the way back. I still have work to do.”

Quack quack.

“Yeah, I know, right? When did I start doing things for free? I’m starting to think I might be a fraud.”

Ophelia waited for the reply.

Neither of her friendly ducks bothered to correct her. But that was only fair.

There was nothing to correct. She was about to do something a whole bunch of people would be grateful for. She doubted if a single kitchen pot would be thrown at her.

And if that wasn’t a sign of trouble, then nothing else was.

Regardless, she raised herself from the edge and stood up, holding back her hair as the breeze sought to fling it into her own mouth. She then turned to the rest of the grand rooftop.

She was impressed by what she saw.

Usually, nobody bothered making these things pretty up-close. Only thieves and labourers climbed them, and neither group were in the business of assigning ratings.

Here, however, there were fancy patterns etched into each of the tiles, each representing a reason she shouldn’t be here.

The institutions of the Holy Church represented sanctified grounds. And it was more than beams and pillars which kept them standing. Holy magic was inscribed from the foundations to the highest spire. And its purpose was to ward away things even worse than an elven thief in the night.

… Alternatively, it meant that if team evil wanted to hide something, there was no better place.

Thus, Ophelia walked deftly along the edge of the rooftop, before kneeling beside something so demure it was almost invisible to the naked eye.

Drowned in the shadow of one of the many steeples lay a pendant inscribed with a candle, the same as those worn by the sisters tending to the summer crowds below. Except no prayer spoken while wearing this would reach the ears above.

It would only go down and down and down.

Ophelia studied it for a moment, then drew her sword.

A moment later–

Nothing.

The pendant refused to offer even a clink when struck, remaining unmoving and unharmed.

Only the faintest thread of something dark seeped in reply. A miasma coiling around the tip of Ophelia’s sword as though seeking to devour it. But she hadn’t expected anything less.

Infernal anchors were often tougher than a lich’s phylactery. And while they differed in shape, what remained the same was their purpose in tethering something that didn’t belong.

That alone was reason enough for any thief to leave them be.

Not even the shadiest halfling in a backalley shop would buy something a devil was actively using as an anchor. But Ophelia hadn’t come to steal it.

She was here to earn the next bonfire dance.

Thus, she beckoned Duck A over with a confident smile. There were lots of things a sword couldn’t break. But she’d yet to discover anything a magical beak couldn’t.

“Come now, Snow Dancer. At least offer me the chance to haggle.”

Ophelia paused, then glanced behind her.

There, sitting where she had been not-sulking only moments earlier, was a figure she’d spied through the scrying orb.

A human male dressed as a slightly scruffy looking merchant.

He wore a smile borrowed straight from trolls as he set his gaze upon the city filled with all the innocent souls he’d yet to gobble up.

After all, this man was a devil. But he wasn’t an ordinary one, either.

Despite his home having been drenched in princess light, which as far as Ophelia knew was the most lethal force in existence, he’d managed to skitter away without burning like a vampire in the sun.

Plus although he looked like any of the weirdos who only whispered in really low voices when they wanted to recruit her, he was also powerful enough to overcome the sanctified aura of a cathedral.

Even amongst devils, this one was dangerous.

Thus, Ophelia nodded.

“Nah.”

She didn’t even need to point at what needed chiselling.

Clink.

With a single peck, Duck A enthusiastically pierced the infernal anchor.

The effect was immediate.

As though made from the most brittle of material, a clear fracture appeared as the magic shielding it was breached. Even Duck B was unimpressed, flapping its wings as it offered to go find something more worthwhile.

The devil wasn’t the least bit fussed. Or so he appeared.

“A difficult customer, I see,” he said, offering a nod before turning his attention to where a bonfire was merrily burning. “But for one whose eyes are set upon the radiance of a princess, I expect that the flames of a devil’s ire matter little to you. She’s quite a magnificent human, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how she keeps her hair smelling nice even though she spends so long with a horse. I’m 50% sure she’s a pixie at this point.”

“A pixie relies on glamours and tricks to achieve all they do. The princess is the genuine article. She is the constellation that all the stars wish to join. And that is why yours are not the only eyes upon her. A problem, I believe, for your wishes to marry her.”

“Yeah, it’s awful. There’s going to be so much stabbing. People will think I’m a normal elf.”

“That would be a terrible accusation. Normal elves are the most mundane mortals I have had the displeasure of dealing with. Meaning no offence, of course.”

“None taken. I mean, I say worse things. All the time.”

“And still we both hold back. Despite common belief, it isn’t the desperate that devils approach, but the powerful, for they know least the limits of ambition. And yet there’s something irksome in the fact that all the power, wealth and authority an elven sage might claim is never enough. They must always add a line about some rival needing to be gorged by a gryphon. The amount of bloodshed, even for me, is rather troubling.”

Ophelia groaned.

Of all the people who agreed with her, it had to be a devil. That meant even fewer would believe her.

“You, however,” continued the hat man, “are an entirely different matter. For one thing, you have little need of help when it comes to violence.”

“Just so you know, if you want to tempt me, you need compliments, not insults. I’m a peaceful elf.”

“Snow Dancer, I believe you are quite literally the reason why there is now a no-sword policy for all elven Yule gatherings.”

“Okay. I’ve said this before. It isn’t my fault if my cousins are better at being stabbed than stabbing. If they have a problem with that, then don’t start pointing swords at me.”

“It could be argued that pointing swords during extended elven reunions is simply a matter of theatrical tradition. Actually going through with the stabbing is not mandatory. I do not mean that as an insult, but praise of the highest order. Threats, after all, exist only to be acted upon. Which is why I’m currently concerned as to why you’re using a duck to attack my infernal anchor.”

Ophelia shrugged.

“That’s just normal curiosity.”

The devil’s eyes glinted as he closely peered at Duck A.

A moment later, he stood up, then offered a bow.

“... Indeed,” he said, as Duck A continued pecking at the pendant. “Your particularly regal duck appears to have a fondness for all things expensive. But I bear no dislike for those with an appreciation for the finer things. So perhaps I can offer something better for you both.”

Click.

He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, a silver tiara infused with stardust and emeralds appeared in the air, before falling on his outstretched palm.

“The Verdant Crown,” he said, presenting it like a waiter with a tray. “One of the original treasures of the Elven Kingdom. Lost for centuries at sea, its magic was so potent that the compasses of all elven sailors never faltered. And perhaps with the right bearer, it will guide the way once again. A fine gift to grace even a fae treasury. But for you, Snow Dancer, it is enough for you to become an elven princess.”

Ophelia stood up to study it.

Then, she flicked it over the edge of the roof with her sword. She doubted if it reached the bottom.

“A crown isn’t enough to make me a princess.”

“I disagree. As recent precedent has shown, a crown is all that is required. Eucian of the Stars dug his from the mud and that was enough for him to be accepted as king.”

“Yeah. And then he got his head chopped off.”

“By you.”

“Exactly. That means I know all about eligibility. A crown isn’t enough to make me a princess. It’s a certificate I need.”

The devil’s smile widened. He stretched out his arms.

“Well, then I have just the certificate for you.”

Fwooosh.

All of a sudden, a flaming scroll of parchment unfurled itself before Ophelia.

Lines of infernal script crawled across the surface, each alive with the promise of wealth beyond measure. The scent of brimstone and temptation filled the air as the parchment hovered in place, its hellfire glow shooing the night from the rooftop.

Ophelia hummed.

“Could you make the flames bigger? If so, I can use it for my kitchen. You have no idea how jealous the neighbourhood aunties will be if they know I can make tea in the middle of the night.”

“An infernal contract isn’t a kitchen apparatus.”

“Well, you should think about advertising it that way. You’ll be a lot more successful.”

“Success is not in short supply. This contract is proof of my authority. And also your wishes come to life. There is, as you can expect, quite a few points, but the most pertinent is that I will provide irrefutable proof of your royal lineage declaring you a bona fide elven princess.”

Ophelia nodded.

“Nope, I’m good. I can become a princess on my own.”

The devil paused. The flames dimmed ever so slightly.

“... Snow Dancer, you cannot become a princess on your own.”

“Why not? You’re the second person to say that.”

“There will be more, since it’s an extremely convoluted matter requiring either the complicity of an entire nation’s ruling elite or an improbable hoard of official family records that need to pass the most stringent of magical examination. It’s something very few can do and even fewer can afford. I’m willing to offer it for a very small price.”

“Now that’s just rude. If my soul was on sale, it’d be kept behind a glass cabinet.”

“It isn’t your soul I want … it’s for you to immediately cease whatever it is you’re planning.”

Ophelia blinked.

“Oh. Is that it?”

“That is it.” The devil held up his palms, revealing all he had to show. “I am a merchant, Snow Dancer, and this means I have excellent intuition for worthwhile customers, especially those I’m not scheduled to meet. You are neither virtuous nor foolish enough to seek my removal. You should not be here. And that makes you very dangerous.”

Ophelia poked the contract.

It dispersed at once, dousing the rooftop in moonlight once again.

“It’s not me you need to worry about. It’s the magpies. You shouldn’t keep your shiny, expensive things on a cathedral rooftop. If they lift them away, you’re pretty much stuffed.”

“Thank you. But the only avian wildlife I need fear is your pets. A highly undignified problem. In truth, while the destruction of my anchor would only be a mild inconvenience, there is something particularly grating about having my plans delayed by a duck.”

“Well, if it’s not a duck, it’s going to be a princess. That’s why I’m going to save her the hassle.”

The devil stared for several moments, his polite smile fixed.

Then, he let out a chuckle.

“... Ah, so this is why you are here. To think that the famed Snow Dancer has been enthralled so badly. I dared not think something as simple as a maiden seeking to impress a princess is truly all the reason you would need to risk confrontation with a devil.”

Ophelia pointed at herself.

“I like being useful,” she said simply.

An expression of carefully crafted delight appeared on the devil’s face.

“Then let us both be useful. I know not what you have heard, Snow Dancer, but rest assured, I have only the princess’s best intentions in mind. We are kindred spirits in this regard–and I am willing to prove it. I wish for her to be free of all the world’s petty ills shackling her to the mud. Together, we can loosen the chains, and in doing so, right the wrongs of the very world.”

Ophelia nodded.

After all, she heard Duck A beginning to chisel away faster.

“I know an easier way. Get rid of the devil who’s definitely a problem.”

“I am not a problem. I am the solution. One that will see every problem for the princess removed.”

“Please. That’s even worse.”

“Excuse me?”

“Having no problems just sounds boring. Who wants to live like that? But obviously, there needs to be a limit. I can help with that.”

Ophelia placed her hand to her chest and smiled.

“That’s why … I want to be her only problem!”

The devil’s polite smile faded at last.

Instead, he looked genuinely confused. At least until he replaced it with fatigue.

“... I see that elves remain the most difficult customers of all. So be it, then. Allow me to inform you that I am lawfully obliged to defend my property. I will not have my meticulously laid plans for the downfall of the heavens to be delayed by a maiden and her ducks.”

Ophelia shrugged.

“Everyone has a plan. And then they get stabbed in the face.”

Silence passed.

The devil glanced down at Ophelia’s sword.

A moment later–

“[Snowstorm Crescent].”

“[Darkness].”