Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

“Sechs, Algernon is neither food nor a toy. Could you please return him to Colin?”

Just like the saying “a cat toying with a mouse,” Sechs, the winged cat, had been playing with the captured mouse, Algernon, while keeping him alive. I decided to negotiate and ask him to let Algernon go.

No, it’s not like I can actually speak Cat (and in the first place, is he even a cat?), but since Sechs isn’t truly my pet but something Luke had left for me—Well, Luke won’t even be alive until 20 years later, so forget dying, he’s not even conceived yet. It feels tropey to say “I’ve known you before you were even born,” doesn’t it?—it felt like good manners to at least start with polite negotiation.

By the way, cats and dogs who catch mice seem to each have their own personalities. My own dear Vier, for example, was the type who would go straight for the kill and then eat it happily (what exactly she ate, I preferred not to investigate for the sake of my mental health). But some prefer to show off the catch to their owners, play with it alive, or line up the corpses… personality really shines through in this area.

Fortunately, Sechs turned out to be of the “play” variety, so Algernon was still alive and well.

Sechs did put up a bit of resistance when I tried to take away his precious toy, but in the end, he is a cat. A few strategic pets on his back and nape, some gentle strokes along his throat and under his chin, and before long, he was purring happily and flopping over like a boneless feline pancake. By the time I was squishing his exposed belly and he was all but melting, he had completely forgotten about the mouse.

Meanwhile, Colin quickly reclaimed his dear friend, hugging him with tears in his eyes, while I continued enjoying Sechs’s fluffy belly. Sechs and I were both deeply satisfied.

♦♢♦♢

Algernon darted along the edge where the phosphorescent rocks’ pale light faded into shadow.

Catching sight of Sechs—still cradled in my arms—the mouse froze in utter despair for a heartbeat, then snapped back to his senses and leapt straight into Colin’s waiting hands, scampering up his sleeve and vanishing into the safety of his breast pocket.

*Squee squee squee squee!!*

From that refuge Algernon chirped busily, while Colin bent close, nodding and whispering back. They really did seem to be carrying on a conversation.

The exchange went on for a while until Coppelia, growing impatient, voiced the question on everyone’s mind:

“So, what’s it saying, you rat‑man lower than the common riff‑raff over there?”
“R‑rat‑man? Excuse me! I have a perfectly respectable name—”
“A kitchen vermin who can only form equal friendships with disease‑ridden pests hardly needs more than ‘rat‑man.’ Hmph.”

Coppelia, ever the maid, merciless toward rodents, cut him down without a shred of courtesy.

“Algernon bathes and sunbathes every day, he’s perfectly healthy! Judging him just for being a mouse is prejudice! Every creature, be it earthworms, mole‑crickets, water‑striders, they’re all living beings, all friends. Yet the church types keep calling any non‑human race inferior and discriminating against them. That’s why we journalists fight day and night with our pens to stamp out that bias!”
“Mmm‑hmm? Summarized, that means you swap small animals and creepy‑crawlies in place of real friends and go around badmouthing the church. Typical rat‑man behavior.”
“Stop twisting my words! I have human friends too! And you, you look like the sort who doesn’t have any friends at all!”

Stung by her insult, Colin shot back, striking a surprisingly sharp nerve.

Come to think of it, Coppelia’s human relationships do run purely on power balances: above or below, ally or enemy. The idea of her forming an equal friendship is… hard to imagine.

Just when I thought as much—she completely proved me wrong.

“Hmph! That’s just what I’d expect from a clueless little rat-man… Honestly, saying I don’t have any friends? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got at least tens of thousands of friends just in this Holy Capital alone!”
““Ehhhhhh, that’s a lie (isn’t it) (right)?!””

Tens of thousands of people in this city who actually get along with Coppelia? Even for a tall tale, you’re overshooting by three digits!

“Why are you looking so shocked too, Lady Clara?”
“Eh—? Uhm, well… you see… Ah, yes! Coppelia, you’re always so diligently devoted to your duties as my maid, aren’t you? I just… I realized I’ve never really considered whether you have any personal time or get to socialize with friends. I was suddenly struck by how inconsiderate I’ve been.”

In truth, Coppelia is quite the competent maid. And being unpaid, inexhaustible, and tireless, she easily becomes a favorite of Lady Theresa of the St. Ravier Church, who leads a life of poverty… I mean, *noble simplicity*.

Thanks to special dispensation, she’s allowed to serve me almost exclusively, bypassing the usual assistant-shrine maiden or failed cleric-attendants that typically accompany one of my ranks. She’s with me practically from “good morning” to “good night.” Which is why I had honestly never imagined her having any relationships outside of my orbit.

“Please rest easy! So long as I’m by your side, Lady Clara, this Coppelia shall serve you joyfully—be it for a hundred years, a thousand years, twenty-four hours a day, year-round, without end!”
“…That kind of devotion sounds worse than a stalker, honestly. Umm, interpersonal relationships are important, so maybe you should try switching between work and rest? Make time for friends, broaden your social circle a little more?”
“No worries! All my friends want me to be with you, Lady Clara! And even if I leave them alone, my number of friends just keeps increasing at an accelerating rate!”

“And here’s proof!!”

With that declaration, Coppelia thrust something in front of us: a metal plate that closely resembled the adventurer registration cards commonly used at guilds and similar institutions.

Etched into it with incredibly detailed miniature engraving was Coppelia’s face, and next to it, gleaming in bold letters, was the shocking inscription:

“*‘Official Fan Club Membership Card of Lady Clara the Shrine Maiden Princess’* …what in the world is this?!”

“What else? As it says, it’s a membership card for Lady Clara’s official fan club. Oh, by the way, the miniature portrait is a special perk for founding members with single-digit membership numbers, or for premium members who pay an annual fee of over 10,000 gold coins. Only the most dedicated simps…er, I mean, valued supporters get this benefit.”
“I never gave it official approval!! And what kind of shady scam are you running!? Wait—if your membership number is in the single digits, then you’re definitely the founder, aren’t you!?”

I couldn’t help but shout, but then I noticed something strange—Regulus was sneaking a greedy little peek at Coppelia’s card, and Cestlavie… Cestlavie looked flustered, clutching his chest and averting his gaze. *…Don’t tell me—you’re a member too?*