Chapter 4: The Organization Techniques Meant for Slacking Off Somehow Became Worshiped as “Divine Work”
People say that when humans have too much free time, they start thinking about useless things, but being too busy also leads to nothing good.
Still, when it comes to “making life easier,” humans are creatures capable of squeezing out astonishing ingenuity.
Right now, I am feeling overwhelmingly moved.
As I stare at the contents of the small wooden boxes lined up in front of me.
“…Good.
Now I won’t have to climb up and down ladders for no reason anymore.”
Inside the boxes are palm-sized pieces of thick paper packed tightly together.
They are “search cards,” which I spent three days creating.
The collection in this Second Library is enormous.
One of a librarian’s duties is “finding the book a user is looking for,” but relying on memory and thinking, ‘Was it around here?’ every time is inefficient.
More importantly, walking around unnecessarily makes your legs swell.
Heels are exhausting.
So I decided to introduce a “library classification system” from my memories of a previous life.
“000: General Works”
“100: Philosophy”
“200: History”
…
“900: Literature”
Each book is assigned a three-digit number based on its content, and a label is affixed to its spine.
Then, cards listing that number, the title, and the author are arranged in boxes in alphabetical order by the author’s name.
With this, I can identify a book’s location while remaining seated.
“I don’t want to move.”
A single-minded desire gave birth to this crystallization of laziness.
I nod in satisfaction and sip my tea.
Two o’clock in the afternoon.
As usual, Mr. Bear, Claude-sama, arrives.
He looks slightly healthier today.
Perhaps it is the effect of my cookie offerings.
“…Sorry to intrude.”
He sits on his usual sofa with practiced ease and takes a sip of the tea I brewed.
Then his eyes land on the wooden box on my desk.
“What is that?”
“Oh, this?”
I slide the wooden box toward him.
“It’s a catalog of the books.
Walking around checking the shelves was troublesome, so I organized everything onto cards.”
“A catalog…?”
He curiously pinches one card between his fingers.
He looks at the words “913: Epic of the Founding of Lutetia, Volume One,” then flips it over to see the shelf number written on the back.
“…What are these numbers?”
“They’re classification numbers.
Books with similar content are grouped on shelves with the same number.
For example, history is in the 200s, magical theory in the 400s, and so on.”
His hand stops.
He begins flipping through the other cards.
Gradually, his pace quickens.
“…Did you write all of this out?
Every single one of the tens of thousands of books in this room?”
“Yes.
Well, I just copied the titles using magic and cut the paper.”
It is an application of my 《Clean》 magic.
Placing ink onto paper and peeling it off are essentially the same.
Still holding the cards, he stares up at the bookshelves in a daze.
Then, in a trembling voice, he murmurs.
“…Knowledge has been systematized…”
“Yes?”
“Even the Royal Archive classifies books by the author’s rank or the year they were donated.
So if you want to research a particular phenomenon, you have to open thousands of books one by one.
There is knowledge that no one could reach even if they devoted their entire lifetime to it.”
He looks at me.
His eyes are shining frighteningly brightly.
Like a boy who has discovered a legendary holy sword.
“You have created a ‘map to knowledge.’
This is a revolution.”
“…I see.”
I give a half-hearted response.
How exaggerated.
It is just organization.
Even a supermarket separates shelves into “vegetables,” “meat,” and “sweets.”
If everything were mixed together, shopping would be inconvenient.
That is all this is.
“With this, we can reach necessary knowledge in the shortest possible time…!
Administrative efficiency and research speed will change dramatically!”
He jumps up in excitement and begins muttering to himself while taking notes.
Well, if he is happy, that is fine.
I finish my cooling tea.
The disturbance happens an hour later.
Thud thud thud!
Unrestrained footsteps shatter the silence.
“Is this the place!
The one said to house the ‘Fountain of Wisdom’!”
The door flies open violently, and a group of white-bearded elderly men rushes in like an avalanche.
All of them wear thick glasses, their breathing rough with excitement.
They are wearing the robes of the Royal Academy.
Professors.
“W-what is going on?”
As I stand there blinking in confusion, the elderly man at the front lunges for the wooden box on my desk.
“This must be it!
The ‘magical search device’ Lord Claude spoke of!”
“No, it’s just paper cards—”
“Oh…!
Look at this beautiful classification!
History and geography are adjacent, and natural science and magical studies are systematically connected!
It is as if the truths of the universe themselves are laid bare!”
“Divine work…!”
The old men begin worshipping the cards.
Please wait.
This is not the truth of the universe.
It is an office rule devised by a librarian from my previous life.
“Um, excuse me.
Please keep it down—”
As I try to stop them, one professor grabs my hand.
“You created this!?
What kind of philosophical reasoning led you to this concept of the ‘decimal system’!?”
Spit flies.
He is too close.
I step back and answer honestly.
“…Humans have ten fingers, so I thought it was a nice, round number.”
A moment of silence.
The professors exchange looks, then erupt in admiration all at once.
“What insight…!
A call to ‘return to the origins of humanity’!”
“Measuring a complex world using one’s own body as a standard… truly the realm of enlightenment!”
“Wise one!
Please, lecture us!”
No.
That is not it.
I tried to deny it, but their intensity overwhelms me and no words come out.
They surround me.
The air feels thin.
My peaceful workplace has turned into a sauna from the heat of elderly enthusiasm.
‘I want to go home…’
I glance at the clock.
Four forty-five.
Fifteen minutes until quitting time.
At this rate, I will be bombarded with questions and forced into overtime.
That alone is unacceptable.
I look toward the corner of the room, seeking help.
There, having retreated to the wall at some point, is Mr. Bear.
He is wearing a wry smile.
Then, meeting my silent plea for help, he slowly steps forward.
“…That is enough, all of you.”
A low, clear voice.
That alone brings the excited professors to a dead halt.
“L-Lord Claude…”
“She values her time for contemplation above all else.
You would not wish to lose such a precious ‘custodian of knowledge’ by making a ruckus, would you?”
Claude-sama places a gentle hand on my shoulder.
It is large and warm.
“She created this classification to give us the weapon called ‘efficiency.’
If you understand that intent, then the proper course is to copy this catalog yourselves and verify it.
…Not to steal her time.”
The professors look as if they have been struck by lightning and bow deeply.
“O-our sincerest apologies!
We were so moved that we forgot all decorum!”
“We will immediately produce copies and begin our research!”
“Wise one, we shall come again to seek your teachings!”
They depart like a storm, clutching papers covered in frantic notes of the card contents.
Bang.
The door closes.
Silence returns once more.
I slump to the floor.
“…I’m exhausted.”
“I am sorry.
I may have bragged about you a little.”
Claude-sama lowers his brows apologetically.
“Your work was so splendid that I could not help myself…
I did not expect them to come in such numbers.”
“…Please, spare me.
I just want to work easily.”
“Ah, I know.
…You truly have no greed.”
He smiles gently.
His eyes now hold a hint of respect.
“To accomplish such a feat and still say ‘I want to take it easy’ out of modesty…
You truly are a rare talent.”
It seems the misunderstanding has not been cleared up.
If anything, it has deepened.
But I have no energy left to correct it.
Chime.
The five o’clock bell rings.
“…It’s quitting time.
I’m leaving.”
“Yes.
Good work.”
I gather my things and flee the library.
Behind me, I catch sight of him affectionately stroking the box of cards.
‘…Well, fine.’
If using those cards makes his work even a little easier.
Then perhaps the dark circles under his eyes will fade just a bit.
Thinking of the dinner bread Mina will bake, I hurry home.
I hope tomorrow will be a little more peaceful.
But my wish is in vain, and the rumor spreads quickly.
That “there is a hidden sage who governs wisdom in the Royal Palace Graveyard.”
And unbelievably, that rumor eventually reaches the ears of my former fiancé as well.