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# Chapter 2 – I Successfully Restored It
A shabby motel in South Central, on the outskirts of Los Angeles.
A room barely ten square meters, costing $40 per night and filled with the overwhelming smell of mold, had become Kang
Jinwoo's current home and workshop.
Hiss— Chk.
The old air conditioner rattled as it blew out lukewarm air.
Jinwoo laid out the supplies he had purchased from a convenience store on the narrow table.
Vinegar, baking soda, aluminum foil, a toothbrush, and a set of sandpaper and polishing compounds he had bought on
clearance from a hardware store.
Of course, compared to the days of his professional workshop, J.W. Woodworks, these crude tools weren't even good enough
to be called children's playthings.
Under normal circumstances... he wouldn't have even considered trying to repair such an expensive item here.
‘But if I have the system... I can somehow make it work.’
Complaining was a luxury.
Either way, he had to claw his way back up from here.
Jinwoo sat on the edge of the bed and took out the 1860 Colt Army wrapped in cloth.
A lump of scrap metal covered in rust and dust.
But in Jinwoo's eyes, the image of a completed masterpiece was already overlapping it.
【Casting skill ‘Restoration of Time.’】
【Target: 1860 Colt Army. Restoration Difficulty: High.】
Flash!
His vision inverted, and a blue holographic guide appeared above the revolver.
Like a navigation system guiding him along a route, the trajectory his hands needed to follow and the amount of force
required were displayed as numerical values.
“Let's begin.”
He picked up a screwdriver first.
Under normal circumstances, the rusted screws would be in danger of being stripped or broken.
But...
‘I'm not someone who has only been working with sawdust for a day or two.’
His fingertips trembled slightly. Then, he precisely located the 0.1-millimeter gap where the threads had the most
clearance and twisted.
Screech, click.
With a crisp sound, the 150-year-old screw came loose as if by magic.
The cylinder, barrel, trigger guard, and most importantly, the rosewood grip. Dozens of components were neatly arranged
across the table.
‘This... is surprisingly fun.’
The corners of Jinwoo's lips lifted.
He had been a carpenter who worked with wood his entire life, and metal wasn't his area of expertise.
But following the system's guidance and cutting and shaping metal gave him a different kind of satisfaction from working
with wood.
Wood offered the pleasure of reading its grain, coaxing it, and shaping it into form. Metal, on the other hand, had a
firm, satisfying quality as it was precisely shaved away according to his intentions.
After that... he continued following the skill's guidance.
【Rust Removal Process: Dilute acidic solution (vinegar) to 15% concentration. Soaking time: 45 minutes.】
He submerged the metal components in a mixture of vinegar and baking soda.
Bubbles rose and the red rust began breaking down. While he waited, he picked up the wood.
‘This is my specialty.’
The Brazilian rosewood grip.
It had turned black from the grime accumulated over time, but he could tell.
A magnificent pattern of deep reddish rosewood was hidden beneath the surface.
Swish, swish, swish.
He began sanding.
As he stripped away the accumulated grime with coarse 200-grit sandpaper, the reddish inner wood began emerging through
the sawdust.
400 grit, 800 grit, 1,200 grit.
Each time he switched to finer sandpaper, the wood gradually became smoother.
‘Maybe it's because I love working with wood, but the feel is incredible.’
He wasn't simply moving according to the system's instructions.
The system only showed him the ‘optimal path.’ Following that path required the experienced muscles and instincts of a
carpenter.
The density of the wood transmitted through his fingertips, the frictional heat as the sandpaper passed over the
surface, and the subtle, sweet rose scent rising from the rosewood.
His instincts as a carpenter awakened.
Not the damn divorce or his life in America...
Just the wood in front of him and himself. A period of complete immersion in which nothing else existed.
【Proficiency increased! The ‘Woodworking’ and ‘Restoration’ skills are creating synergy.】
【The grip's gloss level has exceeded expectations by 120%.】
Finally, when he rubbed the grip with an oil-soaked cloth, the rosewood emitted a deep, rich red glow like a precious
gemstone.
Meanwhile, he removed and wiped down the rust-free metal components, applied lubricant, and reassembled them.
Click, clack.
The way the components found their proper places and fitted together was exceptionally satisfying.
After tightening the final screw, he held the completed revolver in his hand.
Its substantial weight.
The harmony between the cold barrel and the warm wooden grip.
A masterpiece that had once traveled through the gunfire of the American Civil War 150 years ago had been perfectly
revived in a shabby motel room in the twenty-first century.
【Restoration Complete.】
【Grade Assessment: Museum Piece】
【Value Reassessment: $450,000 → $520,000 (Approximately 700 million won)】
“I did it...”
A bright smile appeared on Jinwoo's face, drenched in sweat.
---
The following afternoon, he shaved cleanly and put on the cleanest shirt he had.
His destination was Rodeo Gun Shop, near Beverly Hills in Los Angeles.
According to his internet searches, it was a shop dealing in some of the most expensive antique firearms in the West. He
had also learned that its owner, Arthur Miller, had an exceptional nose for money.
‘If I put it up for auction, I'd get its proper value, but the process and time involved would take too long...’
He urgently needed seed money to rebuild his life, so he needed a wealthy buyer who could pay in cash.
Jingle!
As he opened the shop door and entered, the cool air from the air conditioner greeted him, along with a strong metallic
smell.
Shotguns and pistols filled the walls.
Behind the counter, an elderly man with a stern expression and white hair combed backward was examining a ledger through
a magnifying glass.
“Welcome— What the hell? You?”
Miller frowned the moment he saw Jinwoo.
An Asian man, worn-out jeans, and a cheap backpack. He certainly didn't look like a customer who had come to purchase a
gun worth thousands of dollars.
At most, Miller assumed he was some peddler looking for handouts or a tourist asking for directions.
“I'd like to have an item appraised.”
“Appraised? Ha! This isn't a pawnshop. If you need pocket change, get the hell downtown.”
Miller waved his hand dismissively and turned his attention back to the ledger.
Just as expected. A typical arrogant white American old man who looked down on people of color and the poor.
‘But he's also a man with at least enough eyes to recognize the real thing.’
Jinwoo didn't panic. He slowly took out a hard case he had prepared in advance from his backpack.
“I'm here because this isn't the kind of item you'd find at a pawnshop.”
“What? Ha! If you're trying to waste my time, you'd better be prepared to get hit.”
“Look at it and decide for yourself.”
Click.
Jinwoo opened the case.
For a moment, it seemed as though the air inside the shop had stopped.
The 1860 Colt Army rested on a velvet cushion.
The blued metal surface reflected the lighting with a deep blue-black sheen, while the rosewood grip shone like a red
gemstone.
It was so beautiful that it could easily be considered a sculpture.
“...Huh?”
Miller's eyes widened as if they were about to pop out.
As though entranced, he stood up and approached the counter.
With trembling hands, he brought a loupe to his eye and examined the gun.
“T-This condition... It's impossible. Is it a replica? No, there's no way modern Chinese manufacturers could make
something this precise...”
“It's genuine. An early production model from 1860. Serial number 1532.”
Jinwoo added calmly.
Miller swallowed hard and lifted the gun.
The weight, balance, and wear on the components.
There was no way a dealer with forty years of experience could fail to recognize it.
This was real.
And it had been preserved in a condition bordering on miraculous.
“Hmm...”
Miller stiffened his expression and deliberately set the gun down, pretending to be serious.
“It's not a bad piece. But there are signs of restoration. With antiques, originality is everything. You've worked on it
too much. That lowers its value.”
It was a lie.
The restoration was nearly perfect. The rust had been completely removed, and not a single worn component had been
replaced.
If anything, its value should have increased, not decreased.
“So how much?”
“Normally, I'd say around $5,000... But since the condition is clean, I'll give you $8,000. In cash.”
Jinwoo gave a faint smile.
“I'll just leave, then. I heard you were someone who understood value, but if that's the extent of your judgment... I'd
be better off finding the original owner.”
Just as Jinwoo was about to close the case without hesitation, Miller hurriedly extended his arm.
“Ahahaha! I'm joking, just joking! Young man, you sure are impatient... Where else are you planning to sell it? Looking
at you, it seems like you need quick cash, too. I'll give you $20,000... No, I can go as high as $30,000. How about it?
Sounds like a good offer to me. Even for a Colt Army in this condition, there aren't many places that would pay that
much.”
Jinwoo stopped moving and stared directly at Miller.
Then he let out a faint laugh.
“Boss. It seems you still don't understand the true value of this gun.”
“What?”
“The value of this gun isn't simply that it's a Colt Army in good condition. Have you looked at the bottom of the grip?”
He tapped the metal cover secured by a screw at the bottom of the grip.
“The original owner of this gun was Major John H. Maddox, a hero of the Civil War. And inside this gun, which he
received as a gift when he was commissioned, there's a signature belonging to someone very special.”
“A signature? Don't tell me...”
Miller's face turned pale.
The legend of Major Maddox's missing gun was well known among dealers.
If it was true...
Jinwoo took the screwdriver he had prepared from his pocket. With practiced movements, he disassembled the grip,
revealing faded yet clearly legible cursive writing engraved into the inner surface of the wood.
【A. Lincoln】
“Gasp...!”
Miller staggered, clutching the back of his neck.
The handwritten signature of Abraham Lincoln, the greatest president in American history.
This wasn't simply an antique firearm. It was a treasure containing a piece of American history.
“Do you understand the true value of this item now?”
Jinwoo said leisurely as he reassembled the grip.
“In my opinion... If this item goes to auction, the price will be whatever someone is willing to pay. But as you said,
the process is troublesome, and the fees are high. However, if someone like you, who understands its ‘value,’ is willing
to pay cash for it today...”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“$400,000. Approximately 560 million won. I won't take a single cent less. If you don't like it, I'll leave right now.”
Miller's lips trembled.
Four hundred thousand dollars. It was an enormous sum, but if he connected this item with the right collector, he could
get $500,000, or even $600,000.
Missing this opportunity would be sheer stupidity.
‘Damn it...’
Miller gritted his teeth and walked toward the safe.
“You bastard, wait! I'll have to combine a check and cash.”
“I'll wait.”
A short while later, Jinwoo was holding a heavy 007-style briefcase.
Inside were bundles of $100 Benjamin Franklin bills and a bank-certified check.
“Thank you for the transaction, Mr. Miller. I'll come back if I find another good item.”
“...”
Miller couldn't even respond. He was too absorbed in stroking the gun with a dazed expression.
Then, when Jinwoo stepped out onto the street, got into his old car, and drove onto the road...
“Yeeeees!”
He honked repeatedly and let out a cheer.
Four hundred thousand dollars.
With this money, he could secure a workshop and no longer have to worry about becoming an undocumented immigrant.
Now it was time to start a new life.
Alongside this absurdly overpowered ability.