Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

One day after school, two figures stood in the second equipment storage room of the Darres School gymnasium.
A delinquent with a split lip glared bitterly upward at the pink-haired beauty standing defiantly before him. He had called out Hank, only to have this frail-looking girl appear in his place and sock him square in the face, sending him tumbling into a pile of basketballs.

“Y-you f̲u̲c̲k̲…”
“What a boring last line.”

The mysterious, overwhelmingly strong girl replied coldly to the frustrated delinquent.
Rumors had been circulating around school recently: the nerds—especially Hank—had somehow acquired a bodyguard.
That bodyguard bore an uncanny resemblance to a VR avatar sold on the market called Pinky. With fluorescent pink, long curly hair, an anime-esque figure with exaggerated curves, and large, sparkling violet eyes, she was dressed in a Japanese-style sailor uniform. Exactly like the game’s avatar.

She would appear out of nowhere wherever bullied, harassed, or humiliated nerds were being targeted, issue a brief warning—or sometimes none at all—and then violently resolve the situation before disappearing.
Despite her petite, featherweight-like build (around 47 kg), she could throw punches with heavyweight-level power (over 90 kg). Her punches weren’t particularly fast or refined, but they carried enough force to knock out any thug.

Because of her sudden appearances and departures, she quickly earned a nickname: “Pinky Bouncer,” or simply “Bouncer.”
Eventually, even she began introducing herself by that name.

“Damn it!”
“Ungh!”

The delinquent sprang to his feet and swung at Bouncer. She failed to dodge, taking the blow to her shoulder and letting out a cute, pained gasp. She held her ground, but from the adjacent equipment room came a crash like a 100-kilo man falling into a pile of traffic cones.

“…Using a punch like that only to hurt others? I don’t understand you people.”
“W-Wait! Don’t you know who’s backing me—GAAH!”

Bouncer ignored his plea and dropped him with a knockout punch. She exhaled sharply and vanished. Moments later, Paula emerged from the neighboring equipment room, clutching her shoulder in pain and sneaking a look around to make sure no one was watching.

Her Doppelgänger ability had grown significantly thanks to constant training, even as she carried out her vigilante work at school.
Most of her training was done with VR gear. She controlled a “virtual self” in a simulated world from her real-world body, honing her powers. Now her Doppelgänger could move independently—running, striking—even when Paula’s real body remained still. Training with a voice changer had also allowed her to transform her Doppelgänger’s natural voice into a cute yet commanding tone completely unlike her own.
Her range had increased to around five meters. However, damage feedback remained a weakness—every hit her Doppelgänger took was mirrored on her real body.

In psychic training, linking supernatural sensations to one’s five senses is critical. In that regard, Paula’s power meshed perfectly with VR-based training.
Her rapid growth was a testament to both her natural talent and this perfect synergy between ability and method.

Still, she was far from fully developed. Taking down all the delinquents and rooting out the so-called “secret society” behind the school’s troubles wouldn’t be easy.
Even with the means to fight back, Paula lacked the ability to constantly monitor all the bullied students. And responding to violence with violence was dangerous in its own right.
As she herself admitted, she wasn’t yet strong enough to truly protect—and keep protecting—those in need.

“Good work.”

Hank was waiting by the school gate with a can of soda, which he tossed to her. Paula cracked it open and gulped down the sugary drink with a sigh.

“Can I go home now? If I leave, I won’t be around to help anyone staying late.”
“You’ll wear yourself out, Paula. If something happens while you’re home, we’ll handle it tomorrow. We’re watching 24/7, and I’ve got logs.”

Saying so, Hank waved the tablet he was holding.
Paula had told Hank about her powers early on. She wasn’t yet strong enough to protect him unconditionally, so she figured it’d be easier if he understood her abilities.
Hank was smart and tech-savvy. Pooling their money, they bought hidden cameras and installed them in bullying hotspots around the school. Hank monitored the feeds and alerted Paula when she needed to act. Once a passive victim who could only endure, Hank had been inspired by Paula’s courage to stand up.

Together, they made an effective team: Paula couldn’t be everywhere at once, and Hank lacked the strength to intervene, but combined, they could act swiftly. I’d deliberately chosen someone like Hank to get involved with Paula. Half of their teamwork’s success was inevitable by design.

…But here’s the twist: Paula and Hank had, in fact, been fighting St. Germain all along.

St. Germain, the Grandmaster of the Lunar Wisdom Order, controlled an immense information network spanning all of New York. He was also an executive of the massive medical corporation Raincoat Inc., a well-connected university alumnus, a philanthropist, and a patriotic figure with ties to the military and government.

It was this network that let him quickly learn of strange incidents at Darres High and suspect a new esper’s emergence—likely the very one hinted at by the Time Lady herself. To confirm this, he recreated the scenario: using the school’s so-called “Psychic Research Society,” he sicced delinquents on Hank again.
Predictably, Paula intervened as Bouncer again.
The Bouncer wasn’t a student, a faculty member, a contractor, or even a local resident. A quick investigation showed how strikingly similar she was to the commercial VR avatar. Records revealed that only two Darres students had purchased that avatar: Paula Port and another. Of which, Paula had been present at both Bouncer sightings.
With that much information at hand, St. Germain simply had men follow Paula to confirm that she possessed the superpower to summon? this Pinky Bouncer character.

After identifying Paula as the esper, he used the Research Society as pawns, orchestrating incidents to gauge her powers, character, and resolve.
There seemed to be whispers spreading around those who knew John St. Germain well: the Grandmaster seemed busier than ever but also unusually cheerful.

Now, even with the most exceptional information network at hand, any ordinary person would be drowning in the noise, unable to extrapolate the piece of info they’re looking for.
But not St. Germain.
His ability to sift out meaningful information from the vast ocean of raw data, isolate it, analyze it, conduct additional research and verification, and derive the truth out of it was downright terrifying.

This wasn’t his first esper investigation.
He’d done the same procedure many times before.
He had hunted countless suspects, endured disappointment after disappointment, and yet he never gave up.
And now, after finally being contacted by real espers, he was in the middle of investigating another one. I could only imagine how elated St. Germain was.

Paula’s unprecedented growth was astounding, but St. Germain’s devilish intellect was equally frightening. Honestly, he gave me the chills.
Without Shiori at my side when dealing with him, I’d probably end up a drugged puppet before I even realized it. Scary stuff.

Now then. Both our villain and our superhero were making steady developments, but finally the day comes where the not-so-super hero will be departing.

After a long fight against his illness, Benjamin Port passed away.

He’d already outlived the doctor’s prognosis by ten days. Just right when we had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he would somehow recover, he was gone.
To be entirely fair, he had been terminally ill. His body was extremely frail, one foot already in the grave, and he himself said that he accepted his death and fully intended to die. Shiori and I didn’t know him for long, and we were prepared for it ever since our first meeting, so this news didn’t come as a shock for us.

But for his wife, Maisie, and his niece, Paula, there couldn’t have been a harsher wake up call.
In America, funerals generally proceed in this order: wake, service (held in a church), and burial.
Benjamin had been a quiet pillar of safety in Queens for many years. His steady, unglamorous good deeds had left a lasting impression on the people he had saved. He was a figure greatly endeared.
Because of that, naturally his funeral would be large in scale, but Maisie was a middle class citizen. A funeral that size would be beyond her.
She needed help.

Hence, with the generous cooperation of the Raincoat Inc., the funeral was held solemnly and Benjamin Port was mourned by many attendees.

The Raincoat Inc. had reached out to the Ports three days before Benjamin’s death.
They were prepared to provide Benjamin with medical assistance free of charge, and to assist with the funeral if he were to pass away due to lack of resources.
Being a local celebrity, this was not the first time Benjamin had been offered assistance, though this was the first one coming from a corporation as big as the Raincoat Inc. Benjamin kept his calm as he discussed the matter with an agent of Raincoat’s with Maisie in the room.
In the end, Benjamin accepted Raincoat’s assistance. He was worried his family would be overwhelmed after he died.

Benjamin’s death came the very day after he agreed to the offer.

The skies were clear on the day of his burial. His black coffin was lowered into the earth as many mourners looked on.

Once the priest concluded the service and people began leaving, Shiori tugged my sleeve and gestured toward a tree.
There, I saw Paula in her mourning dress, red-eyed and teary, standing by Maisie as a well-dressed gentleman approached.

“My condolences. I am deeply sorry for your loss.”
“…Thank you. We’re so grateful to you, Mr. St. Germain, for making this beautiful funeral possible.”

Maisie couldn’t bring herself to speak, and so Paula answered in her stead. She’d met St. Germain during the service but hadn’t really spoken to him until now.
They shook hands and exchanged more words.

“Of course. And if you ever need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to reach out. As I mentioned earlier, Raincoat will cover all funeral costs. And if you plan to attend college, we’ll gladly support you. Even if it’s just trouble at school or a small personal matter, I’m here.”
“That’s… very generous. I don’t know if we could ever repay you.”

St. Germain clasped Paula’s plump hand in his bony fingers and smiled with saintly warmth.

“There’s no need. I’m certain you’ll accomplish great things, worthy of your uncle’s name. I’ll be cheering for you.”