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It’s easy to underestimate her due to her usual antics—but in truth, Coppelia really does possess the abilities she so boldly praises herself for.
If only she could rein in her wild behavior and act with reason instead of impulse, she would be perfect…
It’s rather frustrating in that sense, but according to her:
“All-Purpose Maid skills! Absolute loyalty! The highest performance in the world! And a healthy lack of reason and self-restraint! This is true perfection! It proves the genius of Professor Victor, who deliberately left this flaw in!! Aren’t I just like you, Lady Clara?!”
I had no idea why she sought my agreement at the end there.

Anyway, under Coppelia’s direction, we took a sip of the tea she served and caught our breath, when Viola spoke up first.

“Judging from the situation, it looks like the ‘Demihuman Liberation Front’ was just used by that person for their own ends.”

A fair point—but as for who this “Jin” really is, we have absolutely no clue. Why couldn’t he have conveniently blabbed his ‘secrets for the grave’ back there? If this were a comic or a movie, that would’ve been the scene where the overconfident villain digs his own grave.

“The Liberation Front never planned to target either Jill or King Aulanthia. It was ‘Jin’ who forced them to carry it out, right? So maybe it was personal revenge?”
“Jill. Do you have any recollection of that half–dark elf who called himself ‘Jin’?”
“None. If it’s someone who bears a grudge against the ‘Shrine Maiden Princess’ rather than me personally, that might be another matter.”

Both Luke and Lady Lieselotte pressed me for confirmation, but as far as my personal acquaintances go, no one fits that description.
Well, maybe I’ve earned someone’s hatred without realizing it—but that would be chasing clouds.

“Could there be anything from the dark elves’ side? Jill, you’re close with the elves. Maybe it’s fallout from some racial conflict?”

To Cestlavie’s suggestion, Ashimi flatly replied, “No.”

“Compared to the elves, the dark elves are few in number, and they live far apart—one group in the west of the continent, the other in the east. There’s hardly any contact at all. We’re practically strangers who happen to be related.”
“Well, we pay our respects to their Fairy Queen, Titania, and if we happen to meet a dark elf, we exchange greetings—but that’s about as far as our relationship goes. If they want to trade with humans or welcome them into their kin, that’s their business. We don’t interfere, and they don’t either.”

With Ashimi and Pryui’s typical elf-like, detached answers, we found ourselves at a dead end again.

“Oh, then what about the tradition of rejecting half-elves?”

My somewhat rude question made Ashimi grimace.

“It’s not like we reject them. Most half-elves are born between an elven father and a Bean mother, so naturally, they live among humans. It’s the humans who discriminate, not us.”
“Ah, I see. Elves do have the looks, after all. So they play around and then dump them, huh.”

Ashimi tried to protest—“Hey, wait a minute, girl!”—but Eren’s disdainful glare was quickly joined by:

“How disgraceful,” said Lady Lieselotte.
“Not taking responsibility as a man is the act of a beast,” said Viola, as if it were none of her concern.
“Good-looking guys are the enemy,” muttered Bruno darkly, eyes hollow with resentment.
“I don’t really like half-elves myself—they’ve got short lifespans, weak magic, they inherit the iron allergy, and are basically bundles of recessive traits,” Coppelia grumbled, somehow off-topic.

Surrounded by all these voices of condemnation, Ashimi snapped, “Don’t lump me together with a few scoundrels! Pryui, say something!”
But Pryui brushed him off coldly. “You’re always lumping ‘humans’ together yourself. Take this as a chance to fix that shallow worldview.”

“…………”
As I was quietly thinking, Luke and Cestlavie noticed my expression and exchanged uneasy looks.

“Jill, is something wrong?”
“Did you catch a hint of something?”

“Not exactly a hint, but… I feel like we’re overlooking something. Something’s bothering me.”
It felt like I was one step away from grasping it.

Everyone noticed my mood and fell silent, focusing on me—which only made that elusive thought slip further away.

Then came a knock at the door, and from outside, Curtis the butler’s voice called:

“Excuse me, my lady. You have guests from the town of Consul. Shall I show them in, or would you prefer they wait in another room?”
“From Consul?!”

The name “Consul” immediately made me think of Miss Christy—but if that were the case, Curtis wouldn’t refer to her simply as ‘a guest.’ So who could it be?
Before I could ask, Curtis announced the names.

“It’s Sir Eraldo and Miss Caldina.”
“…………”

Who… were they again?
“No way! The Guildmaster and the receptionist, Miss Caldina!?”

The first to recognize the name was Bruno, who cried out in disbelief.

“Ah… right…”
Now that he mentioned it, yes—that’s their name, huh. I was originally registered with the Consul branch of the Adventurers’ Guild, wasn’t I? I’d nearly forgotten after being inactive for a whole year. Come to think of it, I’d heard I needed to renew my suspended guild license soon. Could this be about that? No, no, surely the branch master wouldn’t personally come all this way just for that. …Right?