Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

Unlike the Graviol Empire, also called the Millennium Nation, Livitium has stood for only a little more than thirty years since its founding.
Its provisional capital, the city of Cilento, seat of the Cilento Central Kingdom, likewise has only that much history behind it—a fledgling metropolis.

Originally, Cilento had been just a provincial city of a small northern kingdom. Yet, due to various circumstances, when the Livitium Imperial State was founded—and when, under the patronage of the Cardinal Rose Superempire, the Academy City known as the Imperial Academy of Livitium was established—Cilento was hastily dressed up to serve as the central city. And so, even to this day, the city remains riddled with half-built facilities, countless abandoned zones left behind by slapdash development plans. It is a beginner’s nightmare of a city, where stepping into a back alley means certain loss of one’s way.

In one such abandoned facility, there was a basement chamber leading into an underground passage about two mertes wide, reinforced with primitive concrete made from stone, volcanic ash, and limestone—what one would call geopolymer concrete.

The structure had originally been built as a work station for the sewer and waterworks that were meant to run like a web beneath the ground. But the passageways themselves were never put to use, and the whole facility was abandoned. Yes—listed and left to rot in the town hall’s ledgers. And yet there, a tiny flame flickered, as a small figure with a hooded cloak pulled fully over their head walked in with sure steps, stopped, and then came the lively echo of knocking.

The knock struck a set rhythm upon the door. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a decayed wooden gate, but judging from the sound, it must have iron plates set within for reinforcement. From beyond that door came the stirrings of movement, and the peephole above opened ever so slightly.
Eyes gleamed in the darkness like those of a predator. They gave the cloaked figure a wary glance, then swept the area for any sign of others.

For a moment, my breath caught when their gaze darted our way. But thanks to the averting ward woven by the elves—a barrier to drive away notice—they did not sense that we were hidden in the shadows, watching.
Between the suspicious visitor and the figure with those bestial eyes—clearly beastfolk by the looks of it—there was a brief exchange of coded signs through the door. Then, with the sound of a lock clicking open, the door swung swiftly inward, and the cloaked one slipped inside like a shadow.

Again came the sound of the lock, and the presence behind the door faded away.

“…Phew. As expected of the elves’ specialty in spirit sorcery. Even the sharp senses of a beastfolk failed to notice it.”

“Hmph. Naturally—… or so I’d like to say,” Ashimi muttered, speaking as if something were caught in his teeth, which was rare for him. “But with that black-hooded one just now, at this distance, it might’ve been a close call.”

“…Could it be because of that unnatural flow of spirits surrounding the figure?”
“You noticed. That was likely one of those detestable Spirit Tamers.”

At Ashimi’s bitter confirmation, I recalled a phrase I had once heard: ‘Elves are friends of spirits, unlike Spirit Tamers who force them into submission.’

“But… for a human Spirit Tamer, didn’t it feel like they were commanding quite a powerful spirit?”
Pryui tilted her head, her face showing puzzlement.

Ashimi’s expression grew even more sour.

“Half of it is intuition, but… I doubt that was a pure human. Their aura told me they were an elf… I caught a glimpse of the skin at the sleeve, and it was the complexion of the black elves who dwell in the Great Eastern Forest. But if that were the case, they should have noticed our warding barrier even at this range. Which means the most likely answer… is that the person is half-elf.”

“Half-elves, huh.”
Luke wore a conflicted look, very similar to Ashimi’s.

“Now that you mention it, that songstress you lot fawn over in the slums—she’s a half-elf too, isn’t she?”

And here Pryui casually sold out her comrades.
At that bombshell, I couldn’t help staring intently at Luke and Ashimi’s faces.

“N-no!”
“Please don’t misunderstand, Jill!”
“I’m merely making sure that someone with elf blood doesn’t disgrace themselves, that’s all.”
“She’s still just a young girl, not yet of age!”
“…Ah, sure, sure.”

Seeing the two desperately trying to explain themselves, I somehow felt like I had grasped the situation. So that’s it. I’d been wondering why the two of them had grown so close over the past year—now I see there was that reason behind it.

“Hm, the songstress of the slums, huh. I’ve heard of her. Come to think of it, Jill—I never heard you sing… Well, since it’s you, you’re probably good at it, aren’t you? Or wait, don’t tell me you’d completely catch us off guard by being horribly tone-deaf!?”

To Cestlavie’s question, I gave the safest reply: “Well, I think I’m just average.”

“Average, perhaps, but in truth your voice is like a heavenly hymn, or the chant of a goddess, perfectly befitting your appearance, Lady Clara…”
Coppelia, who had often heard me sing back when I was at the church, added the note with a matter-of-fact expression.

“—Tch.”
Clicking her tongue with clear displeasure was the small girl with an oversized attitude—and an equally oversized forehead.

“Well, in any case, it does seem certain that place is indeed the ‘Demihuman Liberation Front’s’ hideout, just as the intel suggested.”

Summing it up, I looked around at the companions gathered here.
There were fewer than ten of us in this spot, but Jesse, Bruno, along with others recruited jointly by us, Luke, and Lady Lieselotte had gathered ten times that number to surround the hideout.

“Still, it’s impressive you found the hideout the very same day. Even with our intel, we couldn’t narrow it down this precisely, nya.”

Chaton scratched his head, muttering, “Damn, you’ve made us pros look bad, nya,” while Coppelia puffed out her chest and boasted proudly.