Chapter 27

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 27

Chapter Title: Master Craftsman - 7

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Harman greeted me with a look of utter disbelief.

It had barely been a day since I'd told him I was postponing the work until we could gather the materials.

"You already got the ore you said you needed?"

"If I were that lucky, I wouldn't be going through all this trouble."

To be honest, I had no guarantee that this would work out as planned.

After a string of enough failures to crush anyone's spirit, there was no reason I shouldn't have given up already.

But if there was even a hint of possibility, I'd give it one more shot.

"Isn't that a slime core? You're going to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠use that?"

A slime's body had enough acidity to sting bare skin on contact.

It was milder than expected, but still strong enough to damage gear from the lower floors.

That made the core embedded firmly inside its jelly-like body all the more resistant to corrosion, when you thought about it.

Whether that property would hold up when melted and mixed into ore was anyone's guess, but it had a perfectly beautiful color for use as a gem.

"Does that thing even melt in the first place?"

"If you smash it with enough force, it'll lose its shape. Let's crush it up fine, mix it into the molten beatris, and see if it solidifies."

"It's so small, it doesn't look like it'd be enough to give any real color."

"Don't worry about that. I've gathered plenty."

If the color came out too faint, I could just add more.

I pulled out dozens of cores in my hand to show him.

"Nearly two thousand of them."

"You're insane. A total monster slayer."

"Hunting monsters and gathering materials—that's what hunting is all about, isn't it?"

The slime population bounced back to normal within a day.

No matter how many you killed, or how few, it was always the same.

It recovered to just the right numbers every time.

Even after nearly two thousand vanished in a single day, it regenerated at that speed. Normally, they'd overrun the place if left alone.

Yet it always maintained the perfect count.

What a bizarre thing.

"Gotta relight the forge... Oh, it's already going."

"I was working. You think I just sit around all day?"

"......"

Harman reacted prickly, embarrassed at being caught.

But the floor was piled with more of those crude swords, so it wasn't exactly work.

That must have been why he'd seemed reluctant when I tried to enter the workshop.

He'd put off the project until we got the green ore, but he couldn't resist tinkering away at the same old thing in the meantime.

Even though it always ended the same, without progress, he kept at it alone, trying to finish a sword that would never come.

He had to know better.

How badly did he want to forge that sword in his heart to turn into such a blindly foolish man?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

For once, the good news was that the gem-making had succeeded.

It turned out even more beautiful than I'd hoped.

There was still plenty of polishing needed before it could truly be called a gem, but the important part was that the slime cores had blended perfectly into the transparent beatris, producing the desired color.

"What do you think?"

"It could use a bit more elegance... something more dreamlike."

"......"

"Still, this is pretty good."

The familiar routine began anew.

Relying on Harman's abstract impressions, I carved and shaped the gems over and over.

Square shape?

Round shape?

The number of facets was up to me.

I could cut them small or large.

How many should be embedded?

One? Three? Or maybe seven in a row along the blade.

If we couldn't pin down the sword's exact shape, matching the gems was child's play by comparison.

A week passed.

My daily routine had become mornings at Ellie's request office, afternoons at Harman's forge, rinse and repeat.

"That's not it."

Our attempts piled up, and the work grew ever more refined.

Options jotted in my notebook were crossed off one by one as we zeroed in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on a direction.

Just when it felt like we were closing in on the answer...

"This... isn't it either."

Every elimination birthed ten new possibilities.

Harman's reactions made it seem like we were on the right track—until suddenly, we'd drifted so far from touching his memory at all.

Was it an impossible goal?

Did I really think I could beat the Tower?

It wasn't something you could compromise with.

"I'm really sorry. This just isn't it at all. Can we go back to the very first design?"

"Got it."

It was too early to call it quits.

The one suffering was Harman, not me.

Compared to challenging my own goal, I had zero losses here.

Harman had to endure splitting headaches every time he dredged up a memory.

Looks like I'm getting comfortable already.

Just a week in, and here I was complaining.

*Knock knock!*

"Sylvia?"

"Grandpa, I'm hungry."

"Dinner time already? Let's call it for today. Stay and eat with us."

We always lost track of time, engrossed by the roaring forge.

Sylvia was the one who snapped us out of it.

A simple table, but warm family time.

Sharing dinner had become routine.

"...Oppa."

Toward the end of the meal, Sylvia would sidle up and whisper in my ear.

The height difference meant I always had to lean down.

"What'll it be today?"

"Candy. Green and yellow ones."

"Order received."

Harman kept the snacks on a high shelf Sylvia couldn't reach.

Her weekly requests were consistent.

Candy three times, cookies twice, jelly twice.

Candy requests ranged from two to three pieces.

Green candy always made the list.

Harman knew it too—his snack box overflowed with green candies.

By now, she had to know I fetched them daily.

"Do you like green the best, Sylvia?"

"Yes!"

"Any special reason?"

"'Cause it's the prettiest color!"

Sylvia declared boldly, pointing to her eyes.

Then it clicked.

Her irises were a clear, beautiful green.

'She wants a compliment on how pretty they are, right?'

Sylvia widened her eyes, emphasizing the point.

"You're right. Your green eyes are the prettiest in the world."

As the beaming child grinned, a thought struck me.

Was the green gem in the sword connected to this?

Beautiful.

Warm.

Elegant.

Dreamlike.

Graceful.

Gentle.

Clear and blue-green.

Forgiving.

Perfect.

These were all the descriptors Harman had used so far.

At this point, I half-suspected they weren't about the sword anymore.

Without a scrap of memory left, they were just raw emotions spilling out.

Less about the sword he'd forged, more impressions left by its owner.

Weeks flew by.

The limit came for Harman.

"Let's stop now. Just... stop."

"Harman..."

"I can't do more. We've tried everything possible."

The hazy memories tormented his mind even further.

This was the apt way to put it.

It had been better when nothing came up at all.

Knowing he could never reach his goal, yet inching forward anyway—it drove him mad.

"I'm exhausted. My head hurts so bad I'd rather die... No, can't say that with Sylvia around. Right."

Maybe instinct told him.

That we'd just rack up more wounds without success.

Harman was starting to realize himself: the emotions he remembered weren't for the sword, but for her—a face he couldn't even recall.

"It's already melted, so let's make this the last one."

My final chance.

I poured every bit of info he'd given into a single sword, nothing omitted.

Skilled hands now shaped the gems.

Hammered, wrapped in leather, inlaid the gems, polished the exterior.

An epic-grade sword was complete.

Thanks to the gem materials, the name and special effect were both unexpected.

Compared to the junk he'd hammered out before, it was absurd progress.

But in the end, our challenge had failed.

"It doesn't resemble it at all. Not even a hint of those faint memories left."

Harman still couldn't recall a single proper detail about the sword he yearned for.

But one thing was crystal clear: what I'd made bore no similarity to the one etched in his heart. A damn failure, plain as day.

"You've done more than enough already. Let's end it here."

"......"

"Please."

Pushing to the bitter end had been my greed alone.

His body looked like an old man's, but he reminded me of my much younger self.

I'd lost to the Tower, plain and simple.

Never reached the top, never escaped outside—stuck building a life in the second-best space on the first floor.

I'd hoped Harman could win against the Tower where I couldn't.

Trips to the forge grew fewer.

I still handled Tiana's errands monthly, but no more side-by-side work in his shop.

Now and then, picking up training swords, I'd see stacks of crude ones—more than requested.

He'd given up the long challenge, but habit or impulse wouldn't let him quit entirely.

So contradictory.

He knew failure well enough, knew my help changed nothing—yet he repeated the solo challenge.

He'd been the first to suggest stopping, but the last to truly let go was also Harman.

Maybe that's why I brought Rien to the forge.

Because I was the same as him.