Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

“My lady, please don’t move! Just one more sketch—just one more, I promise!”
“How many ‘just one mores’ has it been now…”

Murmuring weakly, Ekaterina nonetheless held the pose as she’d been asked to.
She was posing in a turning-back stance, while a burly middle-aged man sketched her with desperate focus. He was the wood sculptor commissioned to create a replica of the Night Queen of the Temple of the Sun God.

To make the goddess statue look more lifelike, he’d pleaded to use a living woman as a reference. “The duke’s daughter is said by the priests to look as though the goddess herself had taken mortal form. Please, allow me to study her,” he had begged so fervently that time was made for it.
Since the statue was ordered as a likeness of her late mother rather than simply a replica, having Ekaterina—who resembled her mother—serve as model would make the final work far more satisfying. Thus, neither Aleksei nor Ekaterina could refuse. They even interrupted their preparations for the journey back to their duchy to make time for it.

“My lady.”

Turning at the sound, Ekaterina saw Lev, the glass artisan, arriving with another man, led in by a maid who glanced nervously around the ducal mansion. Lev looked relieved to spot her.
But then his eyes widened.

“Forgive me, Lev. Please wait a moment, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course. …Um…”

As if making up his mind, Lev pulled out his ever-present sketchbook and glass pen.

“Would it be all right if I sketched you as well?”

.

After the sculptor finally left, satisfied at last, Ekaterina sat across from Lev and the other man in a small sitting room.
Mina poured tea, and Ekaterina took a sip first. It might have looked like she’d just been standing there, but honestly, she was exhausted. Modeling for a sculpture meant being observed from every direction.

“Please, both of you, help yourselves. Thank you for coming all this way.”
“Not at all, we’re honored to be invited to such a splendid place.”

Lev and the other man bowed. The second visitor appeared to be in his late twenties—green hair, yellow eyes, an intelligent air but with a square jaw that gave him a stubborn look.
He was a craftsman seeking to transfer to the Murano Workshop.

The four artisans Ekaterina had met recently had all decided to return to the Murano Workshop.
Apparently, the day after speaking with her, each of them had shown up with a signed employment contract. One said that when he discussed it with his wife, she’d urged him to take the offer immediately.
What Ekaterina hadn’t expected was that other craftsmen from various glass workshops, upon hearing the employment terms she’d offered them, began applying en masse to transfer to Murano as well.

The Murano Workshop still held the prestigious title of the Empire’s foremost glass atelier. And now it was backed by one of the Empire’s most illustrious houses—the Ducal House of Jurnova, with its immense wealth. They were developing innovative products, making successful offerings to His Majesty the Emperor, and hiring artisans on highly favorable terms.
In the workshops of the imperial capital, artisans usually worked under poor conditions. Once a craftsman acquired enough skill, it was normal to open one’s own workshop and become a master. Thus, even full-fledged craftsmen were still treated like apprentices under their employers.
So the terms Ekaterina offered were the kind that hired craftsmen could only dream of—pay directly proportional to effort, freedom from unfair exploitation, and even injury compensation, all clearly written and legally protected in the contract.
Even though the new Murano Workshop had yet to begin full operation, the deal was worth taking a gamble on. That was how many artisans felt.

However, among the applications, there had been one unusual request.

“You are Yegor Toma, the lens craftsman?”
“Yes. The workshop I worked for went under. When I heard about your offer, I thought I’d try my luck. I know it’s a different field, but I’m good at experimenting with new ideas. Please—give me a chance.”

Indeed, he made eyeglass lenses. Related to glass, yes, but—as he himself admitted—a different trade.
Yet upon receiving Lev’s letter reporting this, Ekaterina had immediately written back asking to meet the man.

Because ever since she decided to turn glass pens into a business, she had one concern: that in her past life, the golden age of glass pens had been exceedingly brief.
If treated purely as writing instruments, more convenient tools would eventually replace them—ballpoint pens, fountain pens, and the like.
In this world, where the quill was still standard, a cheap mass-produced version could probably make glass pens the most common writing implement for a while. But the larger the market share, the greater the fall when something better appeared. The shock could even endanger the entire workshop.
If she could establish them as luxury items, they’d have a better chance than in her past life. Continuing to produce glassware like cups and dishes would also diversify risk—but there were already countless such makers.

However, in her previous world, even in twenty-first-century Japan, glass manufacturers had remained thriving companies.
Because they had transformed into lens manufacturers.
Optical and medical instruments—fields expected to keep growing for centuries—relied fundamentally on lenses. If they could begin cultivating precision manufacturing now, the Murano Workshop might survive even a hundred years later. Even if glass pens fell out of fashion, employment could be protected.

“I asked you here because I have something in mind I’d like made using lenses. Are you familiar with microscopes?”
“Microscopes… I’ve heard the name, but I’ve never seen one.”

Microscopes did exist in this world, but only in primitive form—barely stronger than magnifying glasses. They were rare curiosities owned by eccentric scholars. The Jurnova family possessed a few, purchased by her grandfather Sergei for her great-uncle Isaac’s research.
Science and technology struggled to develop here, likely because of the presence of magic. Rather than advance science, people relied on magical solutions instead.
Most of the Jurnova microscopes were in the great-uncle’s possession back in the duchy, but one remained in the capital mansion. Ekaterina brought it out, showed it to Toma, and demonstrated how it worked before explaining what she wanted.

“I’d like you to make something like this, but with a mirror beneath it. The object to be magnified would be placed on this platform, and the mirror below would be adjustable so light could be reflected upward to illuminate the sample brightly.”

She drew a simple sketch.
Microscopes in this world were shaped quite differently from those of her past life. There was no slide stage—specimens were placed directly on a table, making them hard to view. Simply changing the structure to a modern shape would greatly improve functionality.

“And there’s something I’d like you to research as well.”

Ultimately, she wanted to produce achromatic lenses—those that could correct color distortion and blurriness in the image’s center. They were made by combining convex and concave lenses with differing refractive indices and dispersions—or so she vaguely recalled from her university days, when she’d studied the history of microscopes as a side topic.
It was a wonder she even remembered such trivia. Human memory truly was mysterious.

“Two kinds of lenses…? You really come up with the wildest ideas.”

Said Toma, sounding half in awe. Realizing he’d spoken a bit rudely, he ducked his head apologetically—but he would be entirely correct.
Sorry. It’s not my idea, it’s from my past life’s knowledge, so forgive me.

“What do you think?”
“I can’t say if it’s possible, but it sounds fascinating. I’m the obsessive type—I enjoy experimenting. …And if I can make a living off it, all the better.”

Toma grinned. He might have a bold, cheeky streak.

“As long as I see progress, you’ll be compensated.”

It probably wouldn’t yield profit anytime soon.
In her past world, the hit erasable ballpoint pen had taken ten years to develop—and at first, the inventors hadn’t even intended for the ink to become invisible when rubbed; they’d only thought it amusing that friction made it change color. Funding something uncertain could still be worthwhile.
…Of course, that was easy for me to say, given the Jurnova family’s immense wealth. Sorry about that. Really, thank you for indulging me.

“I’ll have a written contract drawn up. Please review it carefully and sign if you’re satisfied with the terms.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that.”

Aside from Toma, the other applicants would have their skills evaluated by Lev; if they met Murano standards, they’d be hired. The framework for the workshop’s future operations was now complete.

“Lev, I’m sorry to be leaving the capital just as the workshop is starting.”
“Not at all, my lady. You’ve prepared everything for us. From here on, I’ll entrust the business side to the specialists and devote myself to crafting glass pens for Her Majesty the Empress and the Duke of Jursein. I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“It’s all thanks to your own talent and skill. Even while I’m away from the capital, don’t get so absorbed in work that you neglect your health, all right?”
“Yes, my lady.”

Bowing deeply, Lev handed Ekaterina a long, slender box.

“Um—after finishing His Majesty’s glass pen, I had some free time, so I made this for fun. …Please accept it, if you’d like.”
“Oh my!”

Opening the box, Ekaterina gasped in delight. Inside lay a single blue rose hair ornament, crafted entirely from blue glass.

“How beautiful… To create something like this just for a break—you truly are a genius, Lev. I’m deeply moved. How much shall I pay you?”
“No, please! I only wanted you to have it. Think of it as a token of my gratitude.”
“How kind of you. You really are such a gentle soul, Lev.”

When Ekaterina smiled at him, Lev turned scarlet and looked down.
Toma, sensing something, gave his back a knowing pat.

They’ve only just met, and they’re already this friendly, huh. Looks like the Murano Workshop’s work environment will be excellent!

Ekaterina watched the two of them with a bright smile.
Her mind, as always, was pointing in all the wrong directions.