I refused to file my taxes last year after Trump had already started engaging in excursions from democratic norms. It's like an abusive spouse demanding alimony during a contentious divorce.

More than $20bn. That’s roughly the cost of our military operation in Iran to date.

Tax day is a month away. If you’re like me, it makes your stomach turn to watch the US practice regime change in the Middle East – again. If you’re like me, the reckless murder of more than 150 little girls in the name of “liberating” Iranian women fills you with rage. The worst part? You and I literally paid for this.

Today, our government dollars at work look like the hellscape that was Tehran, where our military intentionally blew up oil storage facilities whose burning black rain will deliver cancer to generations to come. We are financing chemical warfare, a war crime, banned under the Geneva conventions. All of this, of course, against the backdrop of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, where up to 70% of the weapons come from the United States and the revolting and deadly paramilitary operations of our Department of Homeland Defense and ICE.

The American people did not sign up for this. Congress was neither consulted nor did it approve the opening attack on 28 February, contrary to the separation-of-powers bedrock our country was built upon. Most of us are fed up with unjustified conflicts and “forever wars”. In fact, 70% of voters opposed potential action in Iran before the first bombs fell. A majority continue to oppose the war now, and support will keep eroding as gas and food prices rise.

Comments

Artist: Gunjyou | pixiv | twitter | danbooru

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/poststakhanovist on 2026-03-26 17:59:52+00:00.

Not on our watch

UNAPAL Operations Log - 16/09/2791

WARNING: Comet GL464-2787 trajectory intersecting GL464D on 27/12/2791 with 98% confidence!

Preparing stealth launch of light impactor...

Light impactor successfully deployed, target tracking initiated.

Trtlzik, Lead Astronomer at the Grand Observatory

"Come here to see, young girl!"

Zrtlik cheerfully hopped forward, two pairs of eyes wide open in curiosity.

"I thought we couldn't see the comet anymore?"

"But now we can see what remains of it! Take a look through the telescope!"

Flying stars stretched bright yellow filaments, dipping into the horizon.

"It's like, a rain of light in the sky! That's amazing! Thank you aunt Trtlzik!"

"You see, the comet was headed straight for us, but it shattered a few days ago; now its fragments are burning in the sky!"

"But why? Why did it shatter?"

Trtlzik pondered it for a moment. "That's a question we have yet to answer, young girl... The Great Weaver works in mysterious ways!"

UNAPAL Operations Log - 26/04/2905

WARNING: Comet GL464-2905 intersecting GL464D on 15/05/2905 with 99% confidence!

WARNING: Unavailable time frame for stealth launch!

WARNING: Deploying emergency heavy impactor!

Target tracking initiated, please double check collision parameters.

Zrzilrz, Graduate Apprentice at the Grand Observatory

Zrzilrz hastily skittered into his overseer's study.

"Your attention madam, I found something peculiar when tracking the inbound comet!"

"Don't get your web in a bunch, young man, I told you this comet is likely to shatter from the heat of the sun before reaching us! No need to panic yet."

"About that... I think we're about to find the real cause behind the disintegration of the previous one, take a look at this light on the photographs, apparently moving towards it."

"Are you sure that's not an artifact of the sun's glare?"

"I checked the angles, it would make no sense to look like that. We'll know for sure if the comet shatters... tomorrow!"

"That would be a sensational discovery. By the Great Weaver... what would that even mean, a cosmic intervention?"

Zrzilrz confidently strode into the cavernous telescope room.

"Zrzilrz, you still look impossibly smug a week after your prediction."

"Actually, it's not just that now - field specialists have gathered remnants of the comet raining on our hemisphere, and found something very artificial looking, take a look."

"That's a big chunk... shaped like a shell fragment? This needs to be analyzed through a spectrometer quickly! Am I imagining things or the [UNAPAL] pattern on it looks like... writing symbols?"

"You are not."

Hakim Springbloom, UNAPAL headquarters

Hakim tried to mask his mischevious intent, casually announcing the historic news.

"Hey Abdul, it looks like one of our charge species found out about us, surveillance data shows their media is abuzz with speculation since the latest comet interception."

"Oh damn... wait, which one?"

Hakim stepped forward and deployed the holographic display of his smartphone.

"This one!"

"ARGH! Dude, you know I'm arachnophobic!"

Hakim cackled heartily for half a minute, until Abdul composed himself.

"How long have you waited to do that... anyways, did you tell Shiki about this?"

"Yeah she's aware!"

"What did she tell you?"

"Don't mess it up you goobers!"

"She just loves ancient lingo. Alright, guess I have a speech to prepare."

Rizlrz, Consort of the Prospective Matriarch and Astronaut of Project Unravel

Conflicting emotions swarmed Rizlrz's brain as the deadline for the final checklist drew near. His mission was historic in so many ways - first male astronaut, first person to escape the Cradle's orbit, and hopefully the first to gather evidence of civilization existing outside of the Cradle. He was so proud, inspiring and empowering men to take their share of glory in domains previously dominated by women, yet being pushed to volunteer for such a risky mission, navigating and exploring an asteroid belt, felt awfully analogous to the cannibalistic traditions of antiquity. He nervously checked fuel levels, they would allow the transfer burn to proceed - and decided to contact mission control, perhaps for the last time.

"Project Unravel capsule to mission control, standing by for final checklist."

"Project Unravel capsule, do you hear this? Can you understand me?"

"Yes mission control, I hear you loud and clear."

"We are not mission control."

Rizlrz's sensitive outer layer of hair stood straight, making him feel oppressed in his space suit.

"Who are you then?"

"I am [Abdul Cohen] of the United Nations Agency for the Protection of Alien Life, we decided to contact you before you could embark on a dangerous mission to the asteroid belt that would result in contacting us anyway."

Rizlrz stood speechless for a while. Then he blurted out the first question that came to his mind.

"Did you do it, did you shatter the comets?"

"We did, we took the liberty to install a semi-automated asteroid impactor factory hidden in the inner asteroid belt, 300 years ago; it was operating covertly until circumstances revealed its work to you."

Despite himself, Rizlrz asked, "Why? Why go through all that trouble?"

"To be honest, this was the cheapest and least controversial option that we could agree on. After internal politics spoiled the uplift attempt of blind sentients from the under-ice oceans of Europa, we decided to avoid contact with planet-bound alien species, long story short - our agency was created and probes dispatched to life-bearing worlds in the vicinity of our solar system."

"Are you not in the asteroid belt?"

"Oh no , I'm happily sat in an office on Earth, we can communicate using uuuh unshareable technology. For further questions , our ambassador [Shiki Levasseur] is authorized to provide you with any information that is safe to share."

"I see. But with respect , you told me how , not why."

"It is our agency's mission. What we say to an unfeeling universe attempting to destroy civilizations with cosmic disasters - not on our watch!"

Artist: Rolua | fediverse | bluesky | pixiv | twitter | tumblr | danbooru

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Fulliron on 2026-03-26 17:46:07+00:00.

The salvager's life is... unpredictable.

The Void is, well, mostly void, so even small claims might take 3 days at FTL to sweep, only to find naught but exhausted reaction mass. But I have to say, one of those two-bit claims was my most interesting ever. Not most profitable, but definitely interesting.

So I come outta hyperlight and do an active scan. Not expecting to get anything back, I'm not even scanning in the hydrogen band. Instead, I get two pings; a return ping for a probable ship hulk about 2000 klicks out, and a weak comms hail. So I set a 6 hour burn and take a look at the hail. Now, I wasn't working with a crew at the time, so there shouldn't've been anyone to hail me in half a light. And yet, hail. Check the thing, and it's barely more than static. At least, with the normal comms transceiver. I went to ignore it as lucky static, when another burst came in. Closer this time. I was gettin' real uneasy; I'm permitted and all, but survivors always make claims rough, and I certainly didn't have lawyer money at the time.

So I switch the comm's mode a couple times, still just getting static, until I think I hit the wrong button a few too many times and got it to fallback into raw data mode. I don't read binary, not really, but… you don't Voidhop for as long as I have without picking up the difference between random static and proper data. It's sometimes the difference between a huge score and freezing in your wrecker's cockpit for a month eating expired rations just to keep a few fumes in the tank. Funny thing is though, any survivor in that sector would have a proper ident-code as a message header. These data blasts didn't have that.

About this time, I got into visual range on the possible wreck. It was… a Sight. Mostly, it was some ancient Hegemony patrol frigate, but some enterprising SOB had welded like 20 more guns and a fuckin sombrero onto it. The hulk wasn't even in that bad of a condition. One giant hole in the engine compartment, but the engines were still mostly there and the guns were still in their mounts. My little wrecker wouldn't be able to scratch the thing, but I had a feeling, if I could hook in and commandeer the engines to my navi-computer, I'd probably be able to jump the damn thing whole back to port. Hegemony always built like granite.

I'm doing my final burn to match velocities when I get another comm ping, so clear it had to be from the ship. Didn't have much choice at that point, so I prepped a burst back with some config data. I swear though, as soon as I opened the channel, my ship went insane. Engines cut, alarms blared, and I swear my clamps tried to eject. Then the message sent, and... silence. Until, impossibly, a voice came over. "Um. Sorry about that. Been so long, I forgot you might not be expecting Party Time. What... year, is it?" Thought it was a fucking ghost, at first, and I wasn't far off. The SOB had rigged a full-dive sim into "the Fiesta Ship II" and then, somehow, pushed the damn thing to almost a gigalight. Somehow, and without time dilation safeties. So at speed, his fuckin' body withered away to nothing, and he'd been drifting for who knows how long after a coolant tank blew out. Why'd he do it? "We know we can go fast, yes? But truly, do we know how fast?" I had to concede, we do not. "Well. Do you want to see?"

You asked me, when you sat down, how long I'd been a scavver. That depends on your frame of reference. From mine? Maybe 30 or so years. From yours? I gotta ask. How fast've you gone?

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Vorash134 on 2026-03-26 17:01:46+00:00.

The explorer ship New Horizons entered the system and immediately began scanning everything it's sensors could reach. The ship's course would take it through the system to the yellow G-type star in the center and then back out the other side, only stopping for a closer look if something truly remarkable came up on sensors. The crew doubted that would happen, though they hoped it would. They always hoped, but in the 3 years they'd been out in the deep dark, they had yet to find anything that counted as truly remarkable.

This system wasn't proving to be any different. It consisted of a fairly normal G-type, main sequence star, about halfway through it's life. It was orbited by roughly 9 planets, 10 if someone was feeling generous, none of which were habitable as is. A couple might be, with some work, but it was for the higher ups to determine if they were worth the effort. The other planets were all just gas giants with fairly normal compositions. Though the largest one had so many satellites of it's own that it was practically a system within a system.

The ship was most of the way through the system when the probes registered something that sent shockwaves through the crew. On one of the inner planets, the probes had found evidence of life.

It was long gone, but sentient life had once lived on the surface of the planet, if the roads and ruined cities were any indication. The images the probes sent back were of a bleak desolated world, with dry riverbeds, broken buildings and strange vehicles, all slowly decaying back into the soil of the planet. Slowly, the ship altered course.

They spent a week in orbit, sending down expedition teams and testing everything. The air was unbreathable. What water there was, was so polluted it was nearly impossible to purify. They managed to find a few computers and gather some data, though they couldn't translate what they found. A week was all the time the New Horizons could spare though, and soon enough it was once again on its way. A full report was sent back to the homeworld, along with a recommendation for an archeological team to examine the world, and whoever these people had been.

That expedition arrived three years later and they began sending down shuttles almost before the ship had entered its parking orbit.

Teams in full containment suits began collecting samples in earnest, trying to understand. They remarked on the strange blocky architecture. They collected samples of wirting and art. They even collected the remains of a couple of ground vehicles. Soil, air, and water samples were analyzed. The remains of animals, long dead and little more than skeletons now, were also collected.

As the expedition neared its end, one of the teams came across what looked like a bunker. The outer hatch had rusted shut, but they were able to get it open with some effort. Once past the airlock, they entered a small complex of rooms and corridors. In the largest of these rooms, clearly designed as a mess hall, stood a large, black, stone obelisk covered in writing. At its base, sat a skeleton wearing the tattered remains of clothing, a hammer and chisel on the floor beside it.

The team couldn't read the words carved into the stone since the translation programs hadn't been successful yet, so they examined the skeleton. Clearly, it had been bipedal, with two arms and a single head. And, if the hammer and chisel were any indication, this had been the dominant species of the planet. Other skeletons were found throughout the complex and they collected as many of them as they could, being as respectful as possible.

The expedition left eventually, to examine their finds with better instruments, and pour through the data, trying to find anything trace of who these people were.

A graduate student eventually cracked the code. She had learned of the mysterious world and its forgotten people when everyone else did, though she had only been a child. Now, nearly 20 years after the first expedition returned, she had finally learned how to read the alien language. And after reading what was on the stone obelisk, she almost wished she hadn't.

She presented her findings at a conference that summer. The room packed with scholars from all over, all of them eager to hear the secrets she had unveiled. She finished her presentation with a reading of the stone obelisk, and when she was done, the room sat in stunned silence for a long time.

"We called ourselves humans. We called our planet Earth, or Terra, or Gia. We lived. We laughed. We loved with a fierceness unrivaled. We hated, and we feared. We created and we destroyed. We dreamed. Oh, how we dreamed. We dreamed of going to the stars. We dreamed so many things. But we were arrogant and greedy. Arrogant that we thought we could control each other instead of work together. Greedy for wealth or power. But it in the end I think it was fear that ultimately did us in. Fear of each other. Fear of the unknown. Fear of our own differences, even though differences are what made us great. We listened to fear and anger when we should have listened to hope and love. We called empathy a sin in the end, not realizing that empathy could lift us all up. We destroyed our planet. Treated its resources as infinite. Gave too much power to those few who thought themselves above the rest of us because they had more wealth or power. We fed an endless cycle, and in the end it destroyed us. So, I write this epitaph, this final message to any who find us. We were human. We existed. Learn from us. Remember us."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SomeOtherTroper on 2026-03-26 14:03:30+00:00.

[Sgt. Jake Moses]

I was awoken by some rude knocking at my door and a call of "SERGEANT MOSES!" that my military training advised me it would be unwise to not attend.

...at least I'd hung all my stuff up before I went to sleep (I am done with trying to calculate what's actually day and night out here), so I yelled "COMING!" while pulling my uniform on, and eventually opened my door to a Space Otter with a staff (so that's how he made such loud knocks!) and an oddly familiar robe.

Or is that just how all hooded robes look? It looked a lot like a monk's robe from Earth.

He said something I couldn't understand. I, fairly obviously, couldn't fucking understand it, so he made a couple of radio calls that I assume were for a translator, and eventually the Agent showed up, and absolutely showered him with language he bit back on, and ...ok, that didn't go so well.

Eventually we were in a room that oddly resembled a temple, but with a pool in the middle, with paintings on the walls around it behind the pillars, and my translator said "he's going to explain our marriage customs to you", while glaring at both me and at the Chaplain by turns.

Then he said something, and she started screaming at him. This was obviously going to go badly, and it did. Only one of them knew my language more than my basic name and title, and I didn't know why the Agent was so angry (at a Chaplain, no less), but I...

It's honestly the first time I've felt truly isolated on this voyage. The Agent was the one who was screamingly angry, although the Chaplain was getting there, and she was also the only one I could hope to understand me, but in her current state, I'm not sure that was possible.

I really hadn't been giving the Captain and Ensign Fern enough credit for everything they'd been doing to keep me from feeling alone in this tin can of crazy Space Otters, simply by speaking my language, and through ...other means.

I had absolutely no idea what the two otters were disagreeing about, but whatever was going on was exploding from a screaming argument into an outright fight in the middle of a ...temple? ...chapel? I wasn't really sure what the word for this space was. It seemed unsuited for this kind of violence, at least to my eyes.

So I pulled the trigger and called Fern.

I told her, in a few quick words, what I was looking at, and she instantly dropped the call. I hoped that meant she was on her way, because although I'd experienced a bit of 'play fighting' with the Space Otters, this was starting to get really close to the edge of that, and I felt like trying to intervene, especially when only one side could understand I was saying "stop!", was a bad idea.

The doors slammed open, and Ensign Fern came to the rescue, in a somewhat crumpled uniform showing she outranked them both, and a haircut that (I later learned) marked her as a convict. That last bit probably helped here, because she absolutely radiated intimidation, combining both her rank and an aura of "I just got out of prison, do you think I'm afraid of going back?" Neither the Chaplain nor the Agent had been at that briefing.

She didn't enter their fight, she simply terrified them out of having it with a few crisp words.

They broke it up in seconds, and the Agent retreated, merely saying "you have a new translator" to me before walking out and shutting the doors behind her with ...I'm not sure I'd call it a bang, or even a slam, but it was very audible. The Chaplain retrieved his staff and propped himself up with it, saying some things I didn't understand.

"Could you please help me understand what just happened?" I asked Fern, "and, more importantly, why?"

Fern took a very deep breath.

"Our field Agent," she began, stiffening herself as if she was about to say something she didn't want to have to say, "has a ...I think the best translation is 'a significant doctrinal difference'? with our Chaplain. That's probably what set things off. I'm betting he said something she really didn't like, and things escalated." Then she sighed.

"This isn't how I wanted you to learn about our religion," she told me, and then said some things to the Chaplain that seemed to mollify him a bit, "but it's my fault for putting you in that situation. I asked for the Chaplain to teach you, and forgot you'd need a translator."

"I probably should have spent more time learning the language," I said, taking some of the fault for my own. She relayed what I could only assume was a translation of this to the Chaplain, and he seemed to perk up a lot. Fern looked a lot less tense too, after he said a few things.

Now that his hood (and a lot of his robe) had been ripped or displaced, I noticed that the Chaplain's fur had gone gray, and even white, in many places, especially on his muzzle and head. So he was older than the other crew members I'd interacted with. Hopefully a bit more understanding than some of them.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said to him, with a bow, and Fern translated. That seemed to really perk him up, as he began to talk at Fern while getting his robes back together. Well, as much as he could, given the rents the Agent's claws had put in them, but he managed pretty decently.

"I didn't want to have to give this lecture," Fern told me, once the old Space Otter was done speaking with her, "but it's my own selfishness that ruined that first attempt at translation for you."

"It's fine," I said, embracing her, and unsure whether to - "since we're in the presence of another officer," I asked, "should I use your title or your name?"

"My name is fine," she said, "in this space, rank matters very little."

"It's fine, Fern," I said, hugging her tighter, and noticed the Chaplain trying not to laugh.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/kayenano on 2026-03-26 03:36:20+00:00.

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Synopsis:

Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.

Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.

Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.

Chapter 505: Lotuses In The Moonlight

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 sparkles. 

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 ...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1s3wodq/the_villainess_is_an_ss_rank_adventurer_chapter/

Nobody has the time to wait for trypsin to do its work

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