Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

After finishing my inspection of Paula Port and before heading back to the hotel, on a whim I decided to check in on Mr. Port—*eh, let’s just call him Benjamin*—from the hospital. But my goodwill ran out fast and I cut the visit short.
*Benjamin… That man is not right in the head.*

He’s in critical condition, only four days left to live, could even drop dead before the day’s over if things suddenly turned. And yet there he was, propped up in bed, sewing his niece a brand-new school bag. On top of that, earlier in the morning he’d fixed a broken toy spaceship that a neighborhood kid left with him, and even asked me to deliver it back.
That’s gotta be the kind of thing that becomes a keepsake after you die—I know these things. The way he’s calmly preparing for death is downright terrifying.

*He’s going to die, you know? Dead. He’s insane. In the good sense. In the “too good to be true” sense.*
If it were me, and I knew my time was almost up, I’d raid the butcher’s shop for the priciest cuts of meat, throw myself a luxury yakiniku party, and snag a copy of a game before release day from the game shop—all with Shiori, of course.
Compared to that, Benjamin is just selfless to a fault.

Well, whatever. Benjamin can live and die however he wants. I wash my hands of him.
Best case, some ridiculous miracle happens, his disease heals on its own, and all his grand self-sacrificing one-liners end up being massive duds—leaving him living the rest of his life feeling damn embarrassed.
*Peh!!!*

When I got back to our twin hotel room, Shiori was sitting upright with perfect posture on the edge of a stack of cardboard boxes, elegantly reading what was obviously a magical-girl picture book for the younger audience.
On the bed lay neatly unwrapped tapestries and gaudy heart-shaped wands in those eye-searing American colors.
She’d clearly gone on a shopping spree for magical-girl merch. Talk about someone who’s living her hobbies to the fullest. And I’m the same.

“Sorry to interrupt your fun, but can I grab a minute?”

I picked up a magical-girl doll that faintly resembled Touka-chan and asked. Without looking up, Shiori just held out her hand in a *wait-a-second* gesture while staring laser-focused at the picture book.
Two minutes later, she closed it with satisfaction and carefully placed it back in its box.

“Sorry for the wait. What is it?”
“I shadowed Paula all day, and—”

I told her what I’d seen at school, plus about visiting Benjamin. She thought for a bit, then picked up her tablet, fiddled with it, and showed me a screen filled with photos.

“Is the man leading that student secret organization among these?”
“Hold on…… uh… ah? This guy? Was that him? Yeah, that’s him. What list is this?”
“It’s the list of secret organization executives in New York.”
“Secret organization!?”
“These are only the ones with official websites.”
“Secret organization’s…?”

*Legitimacy aside, could you even call yourself a Secret Organization if you have a god damn official website?*

When we followed the links, we found the guy’s name was Jason Smith, a member of New York’s largest secret society: the Lunar Wisdom Order.
The Lunar Wisdom crowd partners with the medical megacorp Raincoat Inc. Their slogan is “A Bright Future Through Psychic Development,” and ever since the Super Water Sphere incident, they’ve grown at lightning speed. They’ve got a stable of top lawyers, Wall Street number-crunchers, even a senator under their belt. No wonder they’ve infiltrated schools too.

*America is terrifying.*
*…Then again, if Japan had let the Tanioka Group go unchecked, it might have ended the same way. Close call.*

A little digging turned up all sorts of shady rumors:

Raincoat Inc. supposedly secured massive numbers of test subjects under the guise of psychic-awakening clinical trials. They are apparently using them for grotesque human experiments.
Students attending Lunar Wisdom gatherings allegedly got exemptions from mandatory drug testing.
The mayor’s wife is rumored to be a member.

Allegedly, police are vehemently being refused entry into buildings belonging to the Lunar Wisdom group.
Supposedly, no one knows where the enormous donations from organization members are going.

The reason that all of this remains in the realms of rumor is due to the sheer lack of legal evidence. That’s the power of a mega corporation for you.

That’s as far as we got. Even if they have a tacky “official homepage,” the upper echelon—the ones holding the real secrets—are properly hidden.
*At least they’re doing* that *part right. Good job, guys. Secret organization vibes achieved.*
*Too bad their deeds are the opposite of noble.*

“They look dangerous. Do you want me to erase them? …should I?”

I felt partly responsible—this was the kind of dark underbelly society born from the psychic boom I unleashed.
But letting them grow unchecked was on the people of New York too. It’s not like no one could’ve stopped them. If every citizen just stopped supporting them tomorrow, Lunar Wisdom would collapse instantly.
Even if I did crush them now, a second and third Lunar Wisdom would pop up—it’s inevitable.

As I frowned, Shiori spoke thoughtfully.

“First we need evidence. We can’t move on rumors alone.”
“Then I’ll just sweep their hideouts one by one with telekinesis—”
“No, quicker to access the CIA’s database.”
“Oh? You can do that?”
“I have connections.”

My wife is too competent.
Actually, does she still need me for the whole supernatural show? I feel like I’m just a superpower-dispensing machine sitting on the sidelines.

Shiori accessed the CIA through a secure channel and pulled their files.

The head of Lunar Wisdom is Grandmaster John St. Germain.
Sounds fake as hell, but it’s his real name. He used to be a top biotech professor, but after the Super Water Sphere incident he left academia and joined Raincoat Inc. He quickly rose to prominence and became a key figure in Raincoat Inc., where he used his skillful management techniques to manipulate, pacify, and sometimes blackmail his many subordinates to his will. That’s how he built up the Lunar Wisdom Order, spreading it across New York.
Now they’ve got roughly 600,000 members nationwide, plus 300 executives—and they’re still growing.

Naturally the CIA has eyes on him, but St. Germain is also a rabid patriot. He’s been feeding the CIA his psychic research data wholesale, and in turn the CIA looks the other way.
As long as there’s a chance superpower awakening via medical tech succeeds, that’s straight-up national interest. Basically, a deal done behind closed doors.

*Ugly, dark grown-up politics.*
*Adults… are filthy…*

According to CIA intel, St. Germain is the central figure of the Lunar Wisdom Order. Take him out, and this cult weakens drastically.
After some discussion, we decided we’d integrate him into our supernatural show. We’ll make him the Boss Enemy of the New York chapter opening event.

Even without the staged event, John St. Germain is an invisible poison to the people of New York. The citizens deserve a chance to recognize his crimes and judge him for them.
Ideally, that judgment would come through legal or official means. But the “Grandmaster” John St. Germain is no fool; he’s built deep ties with corporations, the CIA, and top lawyers precisely to protect himself. A straightforward approach won’t work.

In other words, what we’re setting up is a stage where Paula, once her psychic powers awaken, will strike down John St. Germain and the Lunar Wisdom Order.
An underdog discovering superpowers and taking down villains—that’s about as American a story as you can get. I won’t deny there’s a shameless rubbernecking side of me that kind of wants to watch that play out in real life.
But even if it’s born out of our nosiness, if it creates a real chance to wipe out a dangerous organization, that’s not such a bad thing.

Still, setup as this may be, this is reality, not fiction. In this country, even drug busts can escalate into shootouts with cops getting killed. There’s no way a battle between a dark megacorp’s secret-society mastermind and a young psychic backed by the Invisible Titan ends without casualties.
Which means we need to set things up so there aren’t any casualties.

According to Shiori; *“All you have to do is break his spirit ahead of time.”*

In other words, we go in first and crush John St. Germain mentally. That way, we can make sure no deaths or sacrifices happen. If we can force him to agree to terms—say, that he’ll retreat once Paula defeats him without killing her—then things should go smoothly. The finer points of negotiation (read: “breaking”) aren’t my domain. That’s Shiori’s job.

*Defeating the Boss Enemy beforehand to establish him as the Boss Enemy later… Yeah, I’m not sure what sense that makes anymore.*

By the time we’d finished our research and planning, it was late at night. For the sake of her beauty routine, Shiori went to bed.
As for me, I was so pumped up after building the plan that I wanted to storm John St. Germain’s hideout right away. But if Shiori’s sleepy, then I’ve got no choice. We’ll leave it for tomorrow.

Morning, the next day.
Grandmaster John St. Germain of the Lunar Wisdom Order is insanely busy. His appointments are booked solid far into the future. There’s no way to get a meeting with him through ordinary channels.
So instead, we paid a little early-morning visit to his personal suite at the top of a skyscraper owned by the Lunar Wisdom. With time-stop and psychokinesis, we bypassed all the external surveillance, flew straight to the top floor, opened the window from the inside, and peeled open a 60-centimeter-thick steel bulkhead like paper. Infiltration complete. Both Shiori and I had our hoods pulled low. Since I can’t disguise my voice like Shiori can, I had a voice changer running.

It was a wide, elegant room, exactly what you’d expect from a rich guy. John St. Germain was lounging on the sofa, brushing his teeth while reading the paper. The instant he saw us come through the blown-open bulkhead, he drew a pistol and fired a burst without hesitation.

“Whoa—!?”

I literally hopped from surprise, but I was fine. Thank god for my ever-present telekinetic barrier.
Haven’t been shot at in a while. American guns sure have big calibers. And his aim—damn, he’s good. Judging from the barrier’s feedback, all five rounds hit, two of them dead-on between the eyes.

*What the hell is this guy? As if being a high-spec mastermind wasn’t enough, he’s also a crack shot? Strong.*

Before he could empty the clip, Shiori made her move. The pistol vanished from his hand and reappeared neatly disassembled and laid out on the coffee table.
John St. Germain stared at his empty hand in shock. I used psychokinesis to force him back down into the sofa.
Now then, spirit-breaking time—

“I won’t resist. I’ll comply.”
“!?”

Before I could even get a word out, John St. Germain calmly lowered his head and said that.
*Wait, that’s too fast, damn it.*
*Shouldn’t you be at least a little panicked? Confused? Resisting?*

After a short pause, Shiori asked crisply:

“…Who am I?”
“The Time Lady. And the one beside you—the Invisible Titan.”
“Explain how we infiltrated.”
“During time stop, you flew from the outside with telekinesis to the top floor. The bulkhead—eroded by accelerated time, or perhaps broken with telekinesis… judging from the marks, telekinesis. You destroyed it and entered. May I ask a question?”
“No. Deduce our purpose.”
“Negotiation, of course. Not assassination. With your power, I’d already be dead if that were the case. This isn’t personal. It’s too polite for that. Short-term, I’d say you’re testing my crisis-thinking under duress, gauging my threat level.”
“95 points.”

*What? What is even happening?*
*This is moving way too fast. I can’t keep up.*

“I’m honored by the generous score, Time Lady.”
“Then I’ll state our demands. Within three months, an esper will come to defeat you. You are to repel them—but killing or leaving lasting physical or mental damage is forbidden.”
“Understood.”
“You are forbidden from leaking any of this encounter. If you break that, we’ll erase your memory and take appropriate measures.”
“Understood.”
“Further instructions will be delivered in unmistakable form.”
“Understood.”
“……”

John St. Germain gave instant responses to every statement. I think I get what’s happening. Sort of.
*But seriously—what is this guy’s deal? He’s too reasonable. Or maybe just too comprehensive? The exchange is so smooth the whole conversation is racing ahead unnaturally.*
*I mean, sure, I think he’s really understanding everything. But it feels like a trap. Shiori’s running the dialogue, and this is the opposite of stalling, so it’s fine? Right?*

Even Shiori’s a little thrown off—I can feel it. She glanced at me under her hood, silently asking *“What now?”* But hell if I know. I can’t follow this development either. It’s terrifying. I’ll just leave it to her.

When I shrugged, she paused again, then said:

“…Since you’re being so cooperative, I’ll allow you one question.”
“I appreciate it. Then—are espers *h̲o̲m̲o̲ sapiens*?”
“Yes. You’re free to move.”

At her word, I released the psychokinetic bind. John St. Germain sprang for the desk. His sudden, fast movement made me tense up, but what he grabbed wasn’t a weapon, instead it’s pen and paper. Flushed, breathing hard, eyes bloodshot, he began scrawling equations and notes in a frenzy.

*This-this is terrifying. New York is terrifying. This city is nothing but lunatics!*
*Let’s just go home. Back to the hotel. Put away the voice changer I prepped but didn’t even get to use. And sleep. I’m exhausted.*