The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

A hoard of treasure.

Gemstones, jewellery and unassorted tableware. If it shone, it existed upon a heap of gold. 

And that included a dragon.

A truly mesmerising sight. Each scale glimmered like a shard of pristine emerald, putting even the fairy tales to shame. Here was a being who would never know the threat of poverty and all the slightly larger than average strawberries it brought, for he himself was a symbol of wealth. 

Literally so.

He was a walking, flying vault … and that meant I’d brook no excuses!

Indeed, one way or another, this dragon was going to contribute to the prosperity of my kingdom! 

If he could take to the sky, he could take to the Royal Treasury. And I had little doubt my servants would desire nothing more than to catch the rapidly falling pieces of treasure, knowing as my tax inspectors safely retrieved them away that my joy was all the warmer for it.

A fine sight and a finer thought, both worthy of my most innocent smile.

There was just one small problem. 

A blot so familiar it was the signature on every worthy endeavour.

Betrayal.

“My, how wonderful, Miss Fleur,” I said to the clockwork librarian idling upon the dragon’s snout. “... It is Fleur, yes? Or is it Fiore or Flora or–”

“It’s Fleur.”

“Excellent. Because I see loyalty is fragile no matter where I go. A welcome relief. It’s wonderful to know only my time has been betrayed, not my expectations.” 

The girl offered a lively smile. 

She ceased dangling her foot, instead swinging her legs up and down while casually booting the dragon’s snout with her heels.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. My loyalty is as durable as the enchanted steel I’m made from.”

“Then it must have been enchanted by a hag to be so brittle. I note you appear to have grown restless from posing. Have you been waiting long?”

“Only from the exact moment I sent you to search for a heroine who I’m told is enjoying a holiday far from here. You appear to have lost your way.”

“Quite so. I should be in my orchard measuring the bounciness index of the spring grass. Instead, I find myself here, forcing myself to wonder how I might have my horse carry this much gold up so many steps. Would you have a suggestion?”

“Yes. That you consider a different dilemma. This gold isn’t yours. It is the property of the Hidden Library.”

I clapped my hands in delight.

“My, then isn’t it well I’ve a more fitting representative to grant it all to me? Two, in fact. A dragon who will doubtless be grateful to be rescued from his plight. And an assistant librarian who’s sadly at threat of being promoted into an impending vacancy.”

Coppelia, for her part, was silently eyeing the bound and helpless dragon before her.

She offered no words at the cruel sight. Indeed, she couldn’t. Especially while she was clearly holding back a quivering finger while deliberating the ramifications of poking said bound and helpless dragon. 

I nudged her with my elbow.

“Oooh, Fleur!” she said, only now peering up at her colleague. She wore the joyful expression of one as accustomed to betrayal as I was. A most fitting handmaiden. “You found the big guy!”

“I did. And you found the Other Library.”

Coppelia pointed behind her.

“You mean the free slides?”

“I mean our greatest shame. This is where the works deemed unfitting for the main library are kept.”

“... Like shopping lists?”

“Like shopping lists.” 

The smile didn’t fall from the clockwork librarian’s lips. But the blush on her cheeks lessened. 

“Yet it doesn’t end there. There are also household cleaning notes, haircut appointment reminders and random scribbles not even legible to whoever wrote them. All given as payment for frequenting our curated shelves, filled with knowledge stretching back to the first word.”

“Really? I didn’t know we accepted litter. Didn’t we only take books as an admission fee?”

“Books by the famed and the illustrious. But how are we to know who will one day be a great wizard or a great hack? What is a shopping list today might contain the key to a working philosopher’s stone in the future. Or so our master believes. And so this sad pit is needed to bury the tragedy which is our lax admittance rules, until one scribble might prove valuable a thousand years down the line.”

Coppelia tilted her head in thought.

Then, she looked around her at the scattered bricks once more.

“Huh. Which meeting did we talk about this? Because I’m pretty sure I fell asleep.”

“There was no meeting. And stop falling asleep.”

“Oh, phew. So just regular secret stuff, then?”

“Regular secret stuff you’re not told precisely because of this attitude. You started working in the library before I did, and you’re still an assistant.” 

“Ahaha~ I try.”

The younger librarian’s smile quivered.

“Try in the other direction. If you want to know all the secrets of the library, you need to start taking your duties more seriously. The way you mess around doing who knows what in the muddiest, bleakest and saddest backwaters of the continent instead of your assigned task is unacceptable.”

I gave a little gasp.

To think Coppelia’s work involved straying into the Granholtz Embassy! When did that happen?

“Hey! I take my work seriously! I review every bakery I visit in the Coppelia Guidebook!”

“That isn’t your job.”

“Hmmmm~ are you sure? Because it sort of feels like our jobs are flexible. I thought yours was making sure the big guy takes his witch’s brew so his snores don’t shake the library. But you’ve gone ahead and added a bunch of chains which really don’t look secure in the slightest as well. They must be comfortable. I don’t hear a thing.”

Fleur sat up a little straighter, the pride evident in the way she ceased swinging her legs.

“Naturally. Unlike yourself, I take my role seriously. Which is why I’ve been working hard to resolve all the issues the library currently faces.”

“Really? Does that include the bottom floor bathroom? Because I’m tired of hearing the complaints just because humans are gross.”

“Actually, yes. We’re now finally able to afford hiring a plumber.” 

“... Eh? We have to pay someone?”

“Of course we have to pay someone. We have to pay everyone. Do you think our workers from Witschblume hike through a forest out of generosity? Or that the enchantments maintain themselves? Or the treants are fine with just eating intruders?”

“I mean, I figured that’s what the free buffet table is for.”

“The free buffet table isn’t free. And I’ve decided to get rid of it. The library isn’t a restaurant.” 

Coppelia gasped.

She stepped away, seeing at last the full extent of the betrayal before her.

“Oh boy. You’re in trouble now. You know how much the big guy likes those cheap pancakes.” 

A girlish laugh filled the stale air.

“Trouble? Why would I be in trouble? I’m doing as I’ve been commanded. My role is to keep the library functional. Something my gift shop, my fundraisers and my enslaved overseer exploiting the minds and vulnerabilities of the very wealthy has allowed to happen.”

“Well, you better be quick. You don’t have much time to fix the bathroom before you get bonked.”

“I have all the time in the world. Because the first issue I’m fixing is the most pressing.”

Fleur pointed at the dragon beneath her. At last, her lively smile was erased.

“Him.”

In response to the knitted brows, the ancient green dragon gave a whiff of a snore. Whatever words lost in time that meant, Coppelia could only agree with a shrug.

“Eehh, if he did something to annoy you, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. You know what he’s like.”

“I know exactly what he’s like.”

The girl with the pinafore dress raised herself, standing upon the dragon’s snout.

She briefly peered behind her. The expression of distaste she wore as she took in the sight of the dragon was still stuck to her face as she turned to us.

“He is lazy,” she declared. “Do you think this is some alchemist’s concoction I’ve put him under? That I forced him into these chains? He is simply tired. From a short flight, no less. He’s spent so long curled up in his lair that only a whisper of an unearthed 5th edition of The Arcane Atlus could rouse him. And this is the result. A slumber as though he’s just burned down a minor town.”

Fleur clenched her fists, trying and failing to quell her dissatisfaction. 

In fact, she only seemed to grow more discontent.

“... Are you aware, Coppelia, of who our master was before he was called Virudaax the Learned?”

“No, and I feel like it’d be awkward to find out now. He’s definitely been arrested for something weird.” 

“He’s never been arrested.”

“Are you sure? … Because sometimes I look at him and I think, yup, he’s spent time behind bars.”

“He’s a dragon. He can’t be arrested. And that’s the whole point. He was Virudaax the Venomous.” 

“Ohhh … that was a real title? I just thought people called him that sometimes because he’s grumpy.”

“No. They call him that because he used to rule the skies over Witschblume with an iron claw. Now he can barely rule a library. A dragon without a hoard is a dragon without pride. That is an insult to someone so great. But the worst slight comes from himself. All he does is sleep and read and eat as he sees fit. Our master needs to work. He has not a speck of dignity. And I will see it restored.”

Coppelia nodded.

Then, she turned to me with an enthusiastic smile.

“... Do you wanna do the thing now?”

I blinked in response … all the while clasping both hands tightly over my mouth as I struggled to hold back the wheeze. 

After much effort, I summoned every inch of the trained actress in me to still my emotions. I sucked in a deep breath, felt my mind clear, then gingerly raised a palm.

“Please don’t mind me. I’m holding back my judging laughter in respect of your right of priority. This is your colleague’s inane scheme, after all.”

“Oh, it’s fine! You can go ahead!”

“Truly? … Very well, then.”

I nodded as I instantly dropped a hand, shifting the other to only barely cover my smile.

And then–

“… Ohhohhohohohohho!!”

The mocking laughter reverberated throughout the cavern. Its echo was the only reply as the clockwork librarian offered a querying tilt of her head.

“Excuse me … but is something about this conversation amusing, adventurer?”

“It is. And I wouldn’t dare insult your craft by implying otherwise. Tragic comedies are notoriously difficult to write. To possess the absolute worst reason for kidnapping a dragon while simultaneously earning my ire is a play unlike any I’ve had the chance to throw a rotten apple at. An impressive 6.5/10. Frankly, I had no idea Ouzelia’s theatre scene was so developed. If you give me a moment, I will return with the worst apples my saddlebag has to offer.”

“This is not a play.”

“No? … And yet your overly dramatic line about your dragon lacking pride is particularly noteworthy.” 

I held up my finger, silencing the reply.

“You speak as if your dragon degrades himself. Rest assured, it’s quite the opposite. By lazing, he displays he is above the expectations of those beneath him. That is pride. He does not need to be in the sky to rule any more than a king needs to be on a throne. He is and will always be a dragon. And the greatest insult is for one of his own subordinates to claim to know his wishes or needs.”

The librarian’s expression had not a hint of a permanently grateful hue to it. 

That dropped her score to a 3.5/10. To pretend to be filled with gratitude for my remarks was a basic staple when being judged by me.

“You hold dragons in high regard. That is a mistake. They are as slovenly as the worst of us.”

“Please. You may insult your employer, but not me. There is no us. I am in a league of my own. When it comes to my ability to curl up in my bed, not even a dragon can match me.”

“Then it’s just as well your influence will not affect him. When he wakes, he will take to the sky as he is meant to. As a dragon of old, earning both his keep and the respect of those around him.”

I pointed helpfully at the very large dragon.

“Clearly, not all clockwork dolls are made equal. If you were, your eyes would see that you have as much means to force this dragon to fly as you do me.”

The clockwork doll’s smile returned in full. 

Frankly, she was wasted in a library. To telegraph the exact moment she’d reveal the crux of her scheme meant she was better plying her trade in court. 

“True … I cannot force him into any action.” She gestured at my impending payment for dragon rescue services. “But gold can. For dragons who witness treasure do more than sleep on it. They covet it.” 

Coppelia clicked her fingers, understanding lighting up her face where boredom only filled mine.

“Ooh, I get it now! That’s how you want to make him work again! … Goldlust!”

“Goldlust,” repeated Fleur in satisfaction. “The disease all dragons fight. And for one who has not seen the corner of a treasure chest for centuries, the brightness of even a modest heap will overwhelm him like stars to a hermit. He will take to the sky as he once did, gathering all wealth towards him as his forgotten instincts compel him to.”

Coppelia nodded fervently.

“Mmh, mmh~ that sounds terrible.”

“So it will be for all those who have mocked him, even as they took advantage of his shelves.”

“No, I mean, terrible as in not going to work. You know a hero’s just going to come along, right?”

The almighty scoff which came was the only appropriate thing I’d heard all day.

“A hero? … Do you see what heroes are these days? They are not dragonslayers. They are diplomats. And they are predictable. Once a hero comes to calm the master from his goldlust, he will return as a dragon refreshed both in mind and in gold, for not even the bravest hero would dare separate a dragon from his riches. That would be moronic.”

Clink.

I kneeled down to examine an amber garnet peeking out from the pile. Middling quality. But passable.

I popped it into my bottomless pouch.

“A novel plan,” I said, generously ignoring the scandalised look towards me. “To drive your own dragon to madness. Unfortunately, I need him whole enough to agree to my demands. And your written confession will make for a mildly useful bargaining chip when I exploit him for my own ends.”

I waited for her to begin fishing for a piece of parchment from the endless nearby piles. 

She didn’t. Yet.

“I think not,” she replied. “You are a stranger here. You’ve no right to ask anything of a blade of grass.”

“Incorrect. Every blade of grass currently owes me compensation for leeching off my warming presence. I intend to claim in full. Beginning with what you conveniently have available.”

The librarian leaned slightly forwards. Her blasé expression answered before her words did.  

“No,” she said simply. “And I will not allow you to disrupt our master’s awakening.” 

“If you’ve a single working cog, you shall. For the alternative is to raise arms against one of your own. You may be a terrible schemer, but I do not believe that your quest to cruelly lift this dragon from his deserved life of sloth means you would consider harming Coppelia. She is not only your co-worker, but also your less treasonous cousin for all I know.”

Clap.

A flash of darkness filled the cavern. But it hadn’t come from the clockwork doll in front of me.

Instead, I turned to see the sight of Coppelia innocently whistling as she hugged a giant scythe.

“Coppelia?!” I said, already grieving for the next few moments.

“Present~!”

“Why do you have your scythe out?!”

“Hm? Isn’t this the bit where we normally beat each other up?”

“Yes, it is! But that’s beside the point! Surely, there’s an amicable solution which results in our complete victory which doesn’t involve wanton violence against one of your own?”

“Ahahaha~ that boat’s sailed aaaages ago.”

Fleur gave a simple nod.

“It’s true. Our training as librarians involve studious amounts of practical exercises in throwing out troublesome guests. Naturally, we practise with each other.”

Ughhhhh.

I sent my groan towards the pinprick of a night sky peeking high through the cavern ceiling.

“... Fine. I see restraint is not on today’s theatre programme. And what is your weapon, then? Do you also possess a giant shadowy scythe?”

“Only Coppelia has something ridiculous like that.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Because I’m amazing.”

I held out my palm, waiting for whatever ghastly answer which was still yet to be deposited. 

“Very well, then. You don’t misuse farming tools. What weapon do you abuse?”

“I don’t have a weapon.”

Clap.

The clockwork librarian brought her hands together. 

However, there was no flash of engulfing darkness. No blade or spell answered her call.

Instead … it was something far, far worse. 

“I have administrator access to the Clockwork Repository,” she said, her hands separating to a black window as ominous as it was familiar. “That means my weapon is all the things stored inside.”

I pursed my lips.

Few things gave me reason to pause. But the litany of … stuff which Coppelia put in that mysterious black box of hers were all of them. 

Frankly, everything she’d ever tossed inside was a concern. 

However … if I had to pick the absolute worst one, it was undoubtedly something she’d given over to the library itself. A thing so ghastly I needed to strain my mind to remember it. 

Which is why–

I felt nothing but grief as a large, disembodied silhouette poked through the inky surface.

Scales as black as midnight. A row of serrated fangs, save for one which had been hacked off courtesy of an insane elven woman. And a pair of golden eyes simmering with all the shades of disdain, humiliation, fury and imminent satisfaction.

“Well now,” said the wyvern head. “If it isn’t the consequences of your actions.”

The jaws tightened into an impression of a smile.

And then–

That black maw opened to a gathering ball of flames.