Villainess Level 99: I May Be the Hidden Boss but I’m Not the Demon Lord - Volume 4 - Chapter Aft

Afterword

Hello! It’s been a while. I’m Satori Tanabata. It’s been some time since the last volume was released, so thank you for picking up this fourth volume.

I was planning on providing all of you with an apology in writing to make up for the delay in the release of volume four, but I don’t think it would be any fun for you to read walls of groveling text. That’s why I’d like to talk about something more fun... So let’s talk about jealousy instead!

Well, rather than “jealousy,” maybe this is best described as a story of frustration. I’m not trying to describe the thick, muddy feeling that comes with a deep grudge, but rather a light, determined feeling, like the way someone might feel when facing their rival.

I’ve always loved novels, manga, and anime, and so I’ve read/watched many things. Whenever I found something I liked, it would genuinely fill me with joy, and it was so much fun. But recently, I’ve started to feel frustrated when I find something I like. The reason for this is clear: it’s because I started writing novels myself.

Of course, it’s not like every piece of media I consume fills me with frustration. There are actually more stories that don’t fill me with frustration than ones that do. Stories from a different genre, for example, like science fiction or shonen manga, are works I can genuinely enjoy.

The ones that make me feel the most frustrated are stories in a similar genre to Villainess Level 99. It’s like how a daifuku might get jealous of a dorayaki, which are both Japanese sweets, but it wouldn’t get jealous of a beef bowl, since that’s a savory dish. Even though they’re all food, beef bowls exist in a different realm, so they’re not of concern to the daifuku, whereas other desserts are.

You might be thinking that I’m talking about other villainess stories when I say stories similar to Villainess Level 99, but that’s not the case. Even if they’re villainess stories, the lovey-dovey romance ones make me giggle and go, “Whoa...it’s so sweet,” and the stories that focus more on politics really impress me and make me go, “Wow, this author’s so knowledgeable.” Even within the genre of villainess stories, the content can be as different as Japanese sweets and Western sweets are. If I’m selling daifuku, then I can enjoy macarons and gâteau au chocolats without thinking anything other than, “Delicious.”

The ones that make me frustrated are the ones with female protagonists that are heavy on the comedy. It’s not just novels either—if there’s a manga with those elements, I end up feeling frustrated. This ends up being applicable to quite a few villainess stories.

I get frustrated seeing the plots that other authors come up with, and thinking about how I could never write something as interesting... Still, I love traditional Japanese sweets, so I eat everything I can get my hands on.

I keep eating various sweets, like manju and dango, while repeatedly yelling, “Delicious! Yummy! Tasty! ...But I’m sad,” as I continue to make my daifuku. That’s the kind of weirdo I am.

All kinds of desserts have their own strengths, and no one can say one kind is objectively better than the others. Every dessert is one of a kind—they’re all different, and they’re all great. As I continued peacefully and naively kneading the mochi for my daifuku, something appeared before me: the strawberry daifuku.

The strawberry daifuku inherits the elements of the standard daifuku, but it’s equipped with the unique weapon of “strawberry.” It’s definitely better than a conventional daifuku. This strawberry daifuku is the comic adaptation of Villainess Level 99.

“Come on, it’s just a daifuku with a strawberry—the same story but with art for everything, right? The mochi skin and red bean paste are the same as the daifuku—the story is exactly the same,” was what I told myself. But I took a bite, and I was completely blown away. It was so delicious that even the regular daifuku part tasted better. The tartness of the strawberry really enhanced the sweetness of the red bean paste.

I was so frustrated. It was one thing to lose because of the strawberry, but it felt like my red bean paste was inferior as well. The red bean paste in the strawberry daifuku is just a little different from mine—specifically, Alicia is a really good girl in the adaptation. I want that red bean paste, not mine!

I wanted to recreate that delicious variety of red bean paste, the comic version of Alicia, but I ended up with something different, and that’s what led to this volume. I’m sure you know this after reading the story, but I’m not sure how this happened...

Also, the strawberry daifuku—I mean, the first volume of the comic adaptation—is currently out. Yumiella in chibi form is adorable and squishy-looking (like a daifuku), so I hope you’ll grab a copy if you haven’t already. It pains me to say this, but it’s an irrefutable fact that the strawberry daifuku is delicious, so I recommend it with every fiber of my being.

Anyway... The way I phrased things makes it sound like the comic adaptation was what made me write Alicia back in, but I actually wanted Alicia to show up again for reasons completely unrelated to the manga. I regret how I handled Alicia in the first volume. She didn’t become a total villain like the Demon Lord or the god of evil, but she didn’t get tossed into the Yumiella Comedy Realm like the duke did either, so I feel like her arc ended up being half-baked.

With Alicia’s reappearance, I feel like she was able to change and grow(?) while also providing some comedy to the story. I don’t think I have any more regrets about her, but I can’t say for sure...

And so, such was the tale of how one daifuku maker who’s jealous of other traditional Japanese sweets agonized over the deliciousness of the strawberry daifuku, which the maker had one-sidedly decided was their rival. My goal is to one day obtain the power of whipped cream and use it to make a whipped cream daifuku.

As with the previous volumes, Tea provided the illustrations for volume four. The art near the beginning of the volume that illustrates the point in the story in which Yumiella is broken is amazing.

I apologize for putting my thanks to everyone at the end. To my two editors, for whom I’m always causing trouble; to the illustrator, Tea; to the proofreaders; to everyone involved in the publishing of this book; and to everyone who continues to support this series—I truly thank you.