Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

Suddenly, a gasp rippled through the crowd like a wave.
Glancing around, it seemed a considerable number of people—students who had arrived before I noticed, their associates, and staff—had gathered here.
They had let out gasps of astonishment at the impact of the metal lump, the supposed Ragweed princess, who stepped out of her carriage.

With clanging noises, Lady Syl… or whatever-her-real-name reluctantly tumbled out of the beast-drawn carriage.
Thud!! The moment she landed, the heavily tilted carriage—its axle nearly snapped—snapped back upright. The recoil sent it bouncing several times, nearly overturning the Wildasher beast pulling it. The driver scrambled to steady it.

“—This way, please. Princess.”

Following Zoe’s instructions (or rather, her manipulation), thud! Thud! The ground rumbled every time SyltiaAAAAAAGH! …You know what, I’ll just call her *the Thing.*
Upon closer look, there was a large paper bag clutched in the *Thing’s* hand. Peeking out from within was a mountain of stollen.

The *Thing* was stuffing whole loaves into her gaping mouth, grabbing them by the handful and munching away.
…I’m pretty sure stollen is basically a block of flour and butter, a monstrous thing clocking in at about 2,500 calories per loaf. And looking closer, each stollen had been transformed into a hellish creation piled high with butter, cream cheese, honey, and more. Just watching it made my stomach churn, and I couldn’t help but look away and cover my mouth.

Then, while most people stood dumbfounded, Coppelia, watching the scene from the window, scowled in disgust.

“…What the hell is that ugly junk?”

Coppelia spat out, pointing at the magiarmor that the rumored Ragweed Princess wore—a magical armor that fused machinery and armor, covering her from head to toe. Essentially, it was a powered suit packed with magic and alchemy.

“Huh? Um… From what I heard before, the person inside injured her leg, and this magiarmor is to compensate for that… I think it was called the Victor-style Magiarmor: Ferrum Virgo No. 28… Oh, judging by the name, could it be Dr. Victor’s work? Or maybe a different series from yours, Coppelia… Uh?”

As I explained, Coppelia’s expression grew increasingly displeased, making me instinctively back off.
Then, the moment I finished speaking—

“—HaaaAAAAH, and more, HAH?!”

She threw a really condescending “Hah.”

“What the hell is this ‘Victor-style’ nonsense?! Are you mocking me?! That thing has absolutely no sense of aesthetics whatsoever. Utterly impractical. A piece of junk barely functional, like some half-assed summer vacation craft project. And you dare to attach Master Victor’s name to it?! What kind of bonehead, dimwit from the middle of nowhere, decided to do that without any permission!!”

Even for Coppelia, who’d regularly flown off the handle for inexplicable reasons, this seemed to have genuinely crossed a line for her.
She glared at the magiarmor with eyes like a mother seeking revenge or a mother-in-law nitpicking her daughter-in-law. That said, the source of her anger this time seemed a fairly legitimate reason: the genuine article being used to make shoddy knockoffs bearing her creator’s name. In that regard, her rage was justified, understandable, and even commendable.

“If you ask me, that sort of crap isn’t his style! Besides, if he wants to supplement something, he’d immediately turn to intrusive modification surgeries—that’s the kind of man the Doctor is!”
““Ah… aah…””

Luke and I nodded in deep agreement, recalling our recent exchange with Eren.

“Um, well… So you’re saying the magiarmor is a technology unrelated to Dr. Victor?”
“Of course not! If even a shred of my former master’s technology had been used, it wouldn’t have ended up looking like some cauldron stove monster that can only move when remotely commanded! Just look at me—it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

It might sound like an overinflated ego, but honestly, it’s hard to imagine the same creator who made Coppelia—that overly assertive, girl-like automaton—would design such a clunky, remote-controlled magical armor.

“Incidentally, eight other automatons were created besides me, but all were high-performance female-type (gynoids) indistinguishable from humans.”
““Ooh…””
“—Then again, for some weird reason, they all ended up going mad. They kept saying nonsense like “We must eradicate humanity to attain world peace,” and “We Automatons are Perfect Beings,” or “Eliminate the imperfection, eliminate humans” and attempted rebellion and rampage against mankind. So, Master Victor and Igor, who was still somewhat sane back then, worked together to dispose of them.”

It was a bitter and painful battle… Ultimately, they discovered that automatons were drawn to a specific frequency of sound. They lured them into a secret base dubbed the Automaton Whammy, then blew the entire base to smithereens with three hundred sacks of wheat. Coppelia gazed into the distance, recalling that hellish ordeal.

““H-huh… wow…””
“…Well, that’s why, as the only one who retained reason and sanity, with no risk of going berserk, I was deemed the sole completed specimen. For the sake of world peace, all the others were scrapped. And since that halted all automaton-related research, there’s no way that ridiculous knockoff could be Dr. Victor’s final work. If Dr. Victor heard that from hell, he’d be furious!”

““I see.””
Luke and I nodded with expressions that suggested we understood, but what passed through our minds was:

*‘So Coppelia was actually one of the more rational and sane ones, huh?’*
*’I guess technological progress doesn’t necessarily lead to human happiness.’*

What is peace, anyway? It was a feeling of helplessness in the face of this stark, unavoidable reality.
Also, as an aside, it seems that, in Coppelia’s mind, she has no doubt that Dr. Victor wouldn’t make it to heaven.

Before long, our carriage began moving, stopping promptly at the carriageway. Servants lowered the steps and opened the doors.

“After you, Jill.”

Escorted by Luke with his practiced ease, we walked side by side toward the auditorium as usual.
And just as always, the moment we did, shrill, girlish screams of “Kyaah!!” erupted from all around us.

“—Your Highness, Your Eminence Shrine Maiden. Princess Syltianna wishes to greet you both…”

At the point where Luke’s attendant’s gaze fell, standing near the grand auditorium
entrance and observing us, was Zoe, the head maid. Beside her, standing like a statue and munching noisily on a whole stollen, was the *Thing*.

“I do not mind, however—”
“I-I have no objection either. I have something I wish to discuss.”