Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

As Cestlavie looked back at the now completely buried corridor and sighed, a small shower of pebbles began to fall from the ceiling above, as if on cue. A groaning, creaking sound echoed—rock shifting.

“M-Maybe this area isn’t safe either…?!”

So much for being a “safe zone”—it looked like the collapse was spreading even this far.

Colin, glancing upward, started to panic, but Cestlavie raised a hand to calm him, then casually pulled a few talismans from his pocket and tossed them into the air. Instantly, the charms seemed to catch the wind, flying and sticking to the ceiling and walls.

“These are Earth Reinforcement Talismans. This should hold for a while.”

To demonstrate, Cestlavie knocked on the nearest wall, which responded with a solid, dull thud, like striking concrete.

“Oooh, not bad. Seems like the plebian’s party tricks can actually come in handy. So, can’t you also dig out the collapsed tunnel while you’re at it?”

Coppelia kicked the wall hard to test its strength, then asked with maddening cheer. But Magic Art isn’t omnipotent. It’s just a tool, a technology. It has limits. Digging through hundreds of mertes of collapsed cavern is no way a one-man job. As expected, Cestlavie shook his head.

“No way. Digging, debris removal, reinforcement… if I tried it alone, it’d take years.”
“Tch. Still just a useless commoner. Why don’t you start digging then, to atone for your uselessness? Even if it takes years?”

Coppelia flipped her attitude faster than lightning, as usual.

“We’re not building the Aonodōmon¹ here, so don’t be unreasonable, Coppelia. Besides, with my Magic and Spirit Arts, things can get unstable. Better not to tamper with it. Let’s accept that we have no way back and just move forward.”

As I added my own comment to Coppelia’s sharp tongue, I turned back to inspect the heavy door blocking our path.

Up until now, we’d been traveling through corridors modeled after natural caves, but this door and the wall around it were clearly artificial. The door itself was broad enough to let two adults walk through side by side, and it had a bronze-looking doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked—it wouldn’t budge, not by pushing, pulling, or even kicking (courtesy of Coppelia)…

“Wait, this is weird. A mouse wouldn’t even fit through here. So how did that mouse get inside and confirm there’s a golem in there?”

Pointing between the door and Algernon in Colin’s breast pocket, Coppelia asked the question I’d also been wondering.

“Uhh… ‘I knocked from the outside and they let me in’… is what he said?”
“Pfft! Like hell that would happen! Who the hell in their right mind opens a dungeon door just because someone knocks?!”

Colin, interpreting Algernon’s squeak, sounded unconvinced even himself. His explanation ended on a question mark.

And Coppelia, of course, laughed it off with scorn. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu—collapsed dungeons, residents answering after four knocks… hadn’t something like that happened before?

“Wait, don’t tell me the golem inside is another artificial human—like you, Coppelia?”
“No way. You think someone like me would be dumped in a trash heap like this? Hah!”

Coppelia denied it with a laugh.

“Remember, my skeleton is made of orichalcum, my brain is a philosopher’s stone, my heart is a perpetual engine crafted from a dragon gem, and my core is a radiant, black multifaceted cube—a Trapezohedron. I’m the world’s one and only, perfect Automaton.”

She’s not wrong. Taken individually, those parts—an orichalcum frame, philosopher’s stone, dragon gem, and some horrifying black polyhedron—are priceless. Any mage or alchemist would salivate over them. Coppelia really is a walking treasure vault… or a weapon stockpile.

“My former master used up an entire national budget to complete me—nearly collapsed the whole kingdom in the process. We bailed before it got too serious, but rumor has it taxes doubled, ten thousand people starved… but hey, if it’s me versus a measly ten thousand people, I think the choice is obvious.”
“““—HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!”””

Coppelia’s story of national ruin—told as casually as if she’d just burned a piece of toast—prompted Cestlavie, Regulus, and Colin, all from this very country, to rush at her instinctively.

In fairness, it wasn’t really her fault. But to pour that much budget and resources into a single project, and this is what they ended up with… it’s tragic, really.

“Well, Coppelia didn’t personally misuse the national funds, and the creator is already dead. It’s a bit unfair to hold her responsible, don’t you think?”

I tried to calm them down. The three of them didn’t seem happy about it, but they begrudgingly backed off.

“Exactly. As for what Lady Clara just said—while there might not be another perfect model like me, there could be prototypes or failed versions abandoned here. From what I’ve heard, when Automatons are given a sense of self, they tend to go insane, run wild for unknown reasons, and eventually self-destruct.”
“Ah—”
“Ah—”
“Ah—”
“Ah—”

We all nodded deeply in understanding.

Victor probably wanted to scrap Coppelia too. But after all the cost and pride sunk into her, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She really is a symbol of wasted genius—something no one could love, and that no one benefited from.

“…Why are you all looking at me like I’m some tragic figure?”

“A~nyway, assuming there’s a golem or some other guardian inside, why hasn’t it come out even after all the noise we made?”
“Golems are golems, they’re brainless dolls.”

Coppelia started berating Golems.

“If they’re told to guard a room, they’ll just stand there like statues until their cores run out of mana juice… Even if you knock, there’s no way one would just—”
“—Yes?”

Mid-rant, Coppelia slammed her fist on the door like a debt collector—again, and again—until finally, the door did open from the inside. What appeared was a golem with a face of stone or maybe metal, not particularly tall—about two mertes, maybe?—And it took Coppelia’s backfist right in the middle of its face at full force.

Both Coppelia, frozen in her punch pose, and the golem, unmoving with the door open, stood there in stunned silence. The whole room went awkwardly quiet.

Also… what was this golem? If I had to describe it, it was like a two-mertes-tall snowman made of rocks. The whole design looked half-baked—round and squat, like a certain chubby blue robot cat from the future.² It had round eyes, a wide mouth, and, bizarrely, a patch of orange hair on its head. Oh, and it was wearing a dirty maid outfit.

Matching colors, maid uniform—wait, could this thing be an early prototype of Coppelia?!

“—Hmm.”

While the rest of us were still processing, Coppelia slowly lowered her hand, stepped back a little, and faced off with the golem at arm’s length.

While we held our breath, Coppelia reached into her apron pocket and pulled out two flags—one red, one white.

In perfect sync, the golem did the same.

And thus, without a single word or cue, an intense battle of flags between the two maids began!

“Raise red!”
“Lower white!”
“Lower both, don’t raise red!”
“Raise both, but don’t lower white!”
“Lower red, lower white, and don’t spin around!”

“………Alright, let’s take a break now.”

As the two maids continued their endless, uncompromising duel, I, growing bored, pulled out some tea and cups from my Storage spell and suggested everyone sit down to take a breather.