Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess

“That’s a curious statement,” Arlene said. “I am aware I have a few years on you, but I don’t look that old, do I?”

Scarlett considered her. While Arlene did have faint wrinkles and darker skin under her eyes, she didn’t appear much older than forty or so. Younger than Adalicia Mendenhall, probably.

She shook her head. “I do not believe you truly think that is what I meant.”

The woman showed a wry smile. “No, but one never knows. You certainly seem to know something that I do not, considering your previous words.”

Scarlett raised her hand and gestured at the houses in Freymeadow. “Do you know what this place is?”

Arlene studied her for a moment before looking around with an almost casual expression. “I wonder,” she drawled. “Most would have answered a simple village, but that’s not the response you are looking for, is it?”

Scarlett kept her eyes on the woman. She had always been curious exactly how self-aware Arlene was about her situation. Their previous interactions showed that she clearly had some idea that this place wasn’t entirely natural. There had to be a reason she always made them leave before nightfall after all, as if she was aware that outsiders couldn’t stay here all the time. But it was hard to tell if the woman was actually aware, or if it was subconscious in some way.

Scarlett pointed at a house on the other end side of the village square. It was a single building, with a timber base and a thatched roof. Behind it was a tiny patch of land with a small ramshackle shed that looked like it might collapse any day now.

“That home belongs to a Gill and Leticia Adlam,” she said. “Gill Adlam is one of the men that tends to the livestock outside the village, while his wife Leticia spends her days performing chores and processing the wool that they gather.“

Whenever she had to spend a day resting here in Freymeadow, those two were the ones Rosa convinced to lend out their home. They were a nice enough couple, even if the accommodations themselves were somewhat lackluster.

She turned to look at Arlene. “Other than when I travel to and from the village, I have never left this area or spoken with any of the villagers. You can personally attest to this, I suspect. Taking that into account, how do you think I know this information about the Adlams?”

“Are you playing riddles now?” the woman asked.

“I am simply attempting to answer your previous question.”

“Is that so? Then I would say that bard friend of yours could have told you. She charmed the children easily enough, so it would not be hard to learn about the adults.”

“And what if I tell you she has shared nothing of the sort?”

Arlene seemed to consider her for a brief second. “They could have been mentioned in the game you described.”

“It paid little attention to people whose impact on the overall narrative was that insignificant.”

A laugh escaped the woman’s mouth. “If that’s true, then I suppose I should be flattered that I was in it.”

Scarlett nodded. “If that is how you choose to view it, yes.”

“I do choose so, yes.” Arlene leaned back in her seat. “But I am not one to particularly enjoy riddles, so I will satisfy with these many tries. Tell me how you knew them.”

Scarlett watched her closely. It was difficult to tell if she actually gave up because she didn’t know, or if there was some other reason behind it. “I know their names and what they do because this is not the first time I visit this village. Nor was our first encounter two days ago our first proper meeting.” She waited for Arlene to meet her eyes. “…It has not escaped my attention that you have yet to ask what your role in the game was. Is there a reason for that?”

A knowing smile formed on the woman’s face. “There is. But it is most likely not the reason you are thinking of.” She turned away, gazing out in silence over the village for a while. “I presume that I don’t live to see the end of this game. Am I right?”

Scarlett paused. “…It depends on the actions of the person who plays the game. But there are only two possible endings that I know of.”

“From the tone of your voice, am I wrong to assume that my death is the more preferable of those?”

“…No.”

In truth, there was only one real ending to Arlene’s questline. It could only be reached if you fulfilled her final wish. Which meant letting her die.

The only other alternative was not completing the questline, consigning her to endlessly repeating the same five days and the Freymeadow’s demise for all eternity.

“Then what role I had doesn’t matter much, does it? It’s the same no matter what. As for you…” Arlene turned back to her. “You are here to ensure that I die, aren’t you?”

Scarlett stared at her. The woman said it in such a composed tone, but she could see so much unspoken emotion behind those eyes.

“…It is not my wish to see you dead,” she said.

“But it is your ultimate aim, if you want to achieve your goal here,” Arlene replied. There wasn’t a shred of judgement in her gaze.

“You could simply give me the casket.”

The woman looked back at the wooden casket behind her. “You know I won’t.”

“…Why?” Scarlett asked.

“You already know why, or you wouldn’t be asking me to teach you.”

Both of them fell silent.

Scarlett found some of her irritation and anger from earlier rising up again, and she wanted to say something, anything, to convince the woman. This had never been a matter of Arlene not being able to give Scarlett what she needed. It had always been that the woman refused. And just like in the game, there was only one way of getting through her stubbornness.

Arlene shifted in her seat to peer up at the bright blue sky. Her fingers ran over the book in her lap. “Two days, you say? Then I would forget about this conversation?”

Scarlett kept quiet.

The woman smiled. “No, I guess I don’t need your confirmation. I know better than anyone what happens in two days. I was just uncertain about what came after that, but your words have made it clear enough.” She raised a hand and flames took shape above it, forming the vague image of Freymeadow. “I thought some of your technique looked similar, you see.” She spoke almost absentmindedly. “How many times have we spoken like this?”

“…This is the first time we have ever conversed in this manner,” Scarlett admitted. “But we’ve had dozens of conversations before this. More often than not, it does not prove fruitful for me.”

“I can imagine.” Arlene chuckled to herself. “Do I always give you a hard time?”

“…Sometimes, yes.”

“Good. Otherwise, I would have been disappointed in myself. Would have been a waste of an excellent opportunity.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “I had my suspicions that you took joy in tormenting me.”

The woman’s hand ran through the fiery projection of a village and it dissipated into the air as she looked back at Scarlett with a shrug of her shoulders. “I believe I mentioned having a terrible personality. There’s a reason most of my family pretends I never existed. Several reasons, really, but that doesn’t matter to you. You should have expected as much, though, if I taught you in that game as well.”

“You did not teach anything in the game.”

Her eyes widened just slightly. “I didn’t?”

“In the game, you were simply a…questgiver,” Scarlett said. “The player could learn nothing from you.”

“A questgiver…?” Arlene knitted her brows. “I gave people tasks to complete? Just so that they could grow stronger in a fraction of the time it took me to do the same? That was my purpose?”

“Part of it, yes.”

“Well, that is disappointing.” The woman shook her head with a sigh. “I can understand it, but it’s disappointing nonetheless.”

“Does that mean you know what quests you might have given?”

This was something Scarlett had been curious about for a while. The woman had yet to even try giving her any of the quests from the game, even after she had grown so much stronger than the first time she arrived here.

Arlene cocked her head to the side. “Several things come to mind, yes.”

“Then would it be too much to ask you to give one to me now?”

The system might accept it as an actual quest if Arlene said it out loud, which meant extra skill points when completing it.

The woman let out a small scoff. “Oh, no. You are far too weak.”

Scarlett frowned. “You have seen the proficiency that my skills provide me, and the rate at which I grow.”

“Yes, and I’m not impressed. Your control is even worse now than it was before, and you’re not even a third as powerful as you could be. Your flames certainly hold a lot of heat behind them, but anyone above a certain level would find it child’s play to counter them. I thought it was interesting what you were trying to do with the hydrokinesis, but that is still miles behind your other techniques.”

“That is why I wished for you to teach me.”

“And it’s also why I would never accept you.” Arlene gave her a long, probing look. “You have tried to convince me several times, haven’t you? And I assume I’ve told you no each time.”

Scarlett drew her mouth together. “…Yes. Sometimes you provide me with some guidance, but you always refuse to teach me properly.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Did you not tell me a mere moment ago? It is because I am not strong enough.”

It fit with what Scarlett knew from the game, where Arlene would only give quests to the player if they were above level fifty. Scarlett actually considered herself stronger than that, but her strength was a bit lopsided and difficult to quantify.

“It’s not about strength,” Arlene said. “It’s about potential. I look at you and I see a conundrum. Power and skill mixed with inexperience and ignorance that suggests laziness. An unwillingness to grow. Someone gifted with talent that they don’t have the will to use. That is what you appeared to be when I first saw you, and I had no interest in teaching someone like that. That was the main reason, at least. My opinion changed later on as I observed you, but that doesn’t matter much if I keep forgetting about it.”

Scarlett stared at the woman. That was the reason? If that was true, then it didn’t matter how much she upgraded her skills. Would she have to search for another person to teach her, after all? Considering her goal, though, Arlene was without a doubt the best teacher she could find. Not to mention how other people would react to seeing her growth rate whenever she upgraded a skill. She also didn’t know if there were any other mages as experienced with her particular type of magic as Arlene was. When she had inquired into the matter with Adalicia, the wizard had given her the impression that most mages didn’t spend much time using pyrokinesis and its other-school equivalents in practice.

“All that said…” Arlene considered her for a few seconds. “Knowing what I do now, I don’t see as much of a reason to say no.”

Scarlett blinked. “You are saying that you will teach me?”

“I am saying that now I would accept your request, and for as long as my current memories go.”

The momentary joy that had appeared inside Scarlett died out. That meant she would be back at square one the next time the loop restarted. Would she have to repeat this entire conversation every single time in order to convince the woman? She wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. She would, if she had to, but the thought didn’t fill her with excitement. Despite how calmly Arlene seemed to be taking it, telling a woman that the world she knew was a game and that she was stuck in a never-ending loop of her own nightmare wasn’t something Scarlett took pleasure in.

Even if she might be able to skip the part about her own identity in the future, it was an uncomfortable experience. Presumably for them both.

Arlene seemed to watch her reaction, and soon let out a sigh. The woman waved her hand, and more fire appeared above it. The magic was shaped like a wheel, with strands of flames moving at its center in a tiny, intricate whirlpool of interlocking motion.

“Shape your magic into something like this,” she said.

Scarlett examined it for a while before raising her arm. She took a breath, trying to focus her attention so that she didn’t lose control like earlier. Then she conjured her own fire. It took on a similar shape to Arlene’s; circular with flames gathered in the middle as a churning mass of movement.

“No, that’s not right. Try again.”

Frowning, she tried once more, and when that attempt failed as well, she tried again and again. Arlene guided her along the way, and eventually, she succeeded in creating something that looked almost exactly like hers.

The woman nodded her head in satisfaction. “In the future, when you introduce yourself to me, show me this exact configuration. That way, we won’t have to bother with the same bells and whistles every time.”

Scarlett looked at her fire, eyeing the whirlpool at its center. “Is there something special about this structure in particular?”

It looked interesting, yes, but she couldn’t tell if it did anything other than that. It also only took her about five minutes and a small amount of mana to learn, so it couldn’t be that impressive.

“There isn’t, no,” Arlene answered.

“Why would this be likely to convince you in the future, then?”

The woman simply shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? Call it a hunch. I don’t have the time or opportunity to teach you anything more complicated, so this will have to do.”

“We have more than one day left,” Scarlett pointed out. “Surely there is something you could teach me in that time. The water whips that I am able to create were taught by you, and that took less than one day.”

“Let me rephrase that. I’m choosing not to teach you anything more complicated.” Arlene gave her a long, honest look. “For now, I think you should take a break. You’ve been pushing yourself, haven’t you? Magic isn’t something you want to practice on a tired mind. Nothing is, really. Take this chance to relax.”

“Time moves differently here in Freymeadow than outside the village, and I am not as affected by exhaustion here. I am not saying that I do not require rest, but it would be a waste to not use any of these remaining two days productively.”

“To me, that sounds like even more of a reason to take things slow.” The woman glanced at Scarlett’s fire and it suddenly extinguished itself. “If that bothers you, then you might feel better to know that I am not giving you a choice.”

Scarlett fought back a scowl at having her magic dismissed so easily, and she could have sworn that the woman shot her a smile filled with mirth.

Was Scarlett only surrounded by people that enjoyed tormenting her?