A Hammer in the Hand

Claude Regan offered the ore loaded in the cart to Harmensales. With a single wave of the demon's hand, black smoke rose from the ore, and Harmensales inhaled, sucking the smoke entirely inside.

Watching from the sidelines, it was a fascinating sight.

Harmensales' tone was mechanical, but it carried an undercurrent of satisfaction. Baek Si-woo understood that this thing was some kind of demonic entity.

It was surreal, but then again, its very appearance screamed "demon."

Everything was so vivid that he couldn't even force himself to deny it.

"The same as before," Claude said.

The contract seemed to be maintained under a degree of mutual respect. Although Claude Regan bowed and scraped, it didn't look like a one-sidedly exploitative relationship.

It was only the disciples—the laborers—who were being worked to the bone.

"You, go back. Call Number 18."

"...Understood."

Baek Si-woo withdrew, leaving behind a gaze that treated him like trash on the side of the road. Neither of them showed the slightest interest in the laborers. To them, a laborer was nothing more than a tiny, replaceable screw.

Drip, drip.

Blood dripped from his hand; he had clenched his fist so hard without realizing it.

The pain, more than anything else, grounded him in reality.

For now, I survived.

Relief rushed in to fill the void left by his anger.

He had safely passed the first collection. Despite being thrown into a mine without knowing why and having his ore stolen while he slept, he had somehow cleared the first hurdle.

On top of that, he had received confirmation from the system message.

I have no idea what this is.

Everything was shrouded in mystery, but this message was by far the most suspicious. A timer counting down to his impending death. His personal info and his immediate goal.

And those annoying emoticons.

He couldn't bring himself to trust it. It might have been a contrarian streak, but being forced to believe it only bred resentment. He still hadn't ruled out the possibility of mental illness, either.

The problem was that he had nothing else to rely on.

But honestly, it helps.

Without the message's warning, he would have likely died during this collection. Even if he had miraculously survived, he wouldn't have understood the situation. If so, his future would have been bleak.

Well, it was pretty bleak right now anyway.

At least I'm safe for the time being.

Baek Si-woo let out a sigh to clear his thoughts. As he stepped out of the building, two people were waiting for him. One was Number 18, "Scrap," who had helped him this time, and the other was Number 19, "Leech," who had groveled like a dog only to get beaten like one.

"Limbs all intact, I see. Now, don't you have something to say to me?" Scrap asked.

"Thank you. I survived because of you."

He bowed his head politely.

It was basic courtesy. He wasn't so poorly raised that he would treat his savior coldly. Perhaps surprised by his reaction, the woman's eyes widened, and she grinned.

"That's more like it. Though I suppose someone else might feel a bit wronged?"

Following her gaze, Baek Si-woo glanced at Leech. Their eyes met. The guy was glaring at him with a swollen face, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

It wasn't worth his concern.

Actually, there is one thing I'm curious about.

Despite glaring like a vicious beast, Leech showed no intention of attacking Scrap. Realistically, wouldn't it be easier to overpower a woman than a man?

It would have been normal for him to attack her and steal her ore. Was he just a typical male who was only soft on women? He didn't seem like the type to do that at the cost of his own life.

And there was a more fundamental question.

"Why did you tell me?" he asked.

"Tell you what? Oh, that he stole it?"

Her reply was simple and bizarre.

"Your face."

"My face?"

"You're more my type."

Scrap winked and headed toward the building. Even though she knew a demon was waiting inside, her stride was confident. Was the heap of ore in her cart the source of her confidence?

Or perhaps...

She has something else to rely on.

What Scrap did wasn't just a simple accusation. She knew what went on inside. Knowing everything, she had pointed to Leech as the thief.

As a result, Leech ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would die.

In place of Baek Si-woo, who should have died like a fool.

Well, not exactly "in my place." He reaped what he sowed.

He was truly grateful to Number 18.

But if asked whether he could trust her...

I need to keep my wits about me.

He had to survive.

There were no mirrors in the pigsty of a dormitory. There wasn't even any metal reflective enough to show an image. Thus, Baek Si-woo still hadn't been able to see his own face.

He desperately needed information.

What I know so far.

His name was Muzark Bespard.

A novice dark mage and mine slave.

Surprisingly, he could accept the absurd word "magic" without much resistance. The phenomenon he had witnessed firsthand earlier served as the clearest proof.

His current drift, which the message referred to as a "previous life," was unrealistic to begin with. The time for common sense had long since passed. If he gritted his teeth and denied every single thing, he would never adapt.

He assumed Redline was the name of a country or region. As for the incomprehensible proper noun Cryptofetica, which was listed as his trait, thinking about it now was just a waste of time.

This was the extent of the information he possessed.

From now on, he had to fill in the blanks himself.

"How did I end up here? Why ask all of a sudden?"

"Well, mining all day just makes me keep thinking about the past."

"So what?"

"I just got curious about other people's stories. Everyone must have had a life before this."

"Bullshit."

His sly acting was top-notch, but the response was lukewarm. He didn't even know the man's name. All he knew was that he was Number 14, "Pig," who had been called in yesterday and returned.

In other words, since his turn had passed, Pig had a bit of mental breathing room.

"Did you hit your head or something? Before, damn it, you'd throw a fit if someone so much as brushed your shoulder."

"Did I?"

"What a lunatic."

Information +1: Muzark Bespard had anger management issues.

"Tsk. It's not a story I'm proud of anyway," Pig muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm the same as everyone else. I was an aspiring mage. If I was any better than the rest of the rabble, it was only because I worked in a factory and spent my spare time trying to read even one more page of a worn-out magic book."

"A magic book?"

"Yeah. Though they were all scams. 'Seven Basic Spells Even a Monkey Can Do,' my ass. Shameless bastards. Maybe humans couldn't do it because only monkeys could. I just wasted my hard-earned money."

The title reeked of a scam.

But was this man really as foolish as a monkey to fall for such an obvious trick? Despite his casual tone, his words about magic were filled with longing and desperation.

"You worked hard. That's not easy."

"Of course I had to. If you're born in this Empire and don't become a mage, what's the point of living? You just live as a spare part until you die. Especially in a toxic dump like Redline..."

Pig glanced around at the other laborers.

"Number 5. That guy's going to die soon."

"How do you know?"

"Look at him. He's skin and bones, swinging his pickaxe like a wet noodle and shuffling around when he walks. We all eat the same food, work the same hours, and sleep in the same place, but he's the only one like that. Guess he's lost the will to live. Since people have been dropping like flies lately, I bet some new recruits will be coming in soon."

Pig snorted as he spoke of another's death.

"I won't end up like that. I won't. Never."

The last part was almost a whisper to himself.

Baek Si-woo offered a polite nod and ended the conversation. Seeing Pig's stiffening expression, he had a feeling that pushing any further would earn him a punch.

I asked how he ended up here, but I ended up hearing some strange things.

Still, it wasn't without harvest.

The Empire, mages, and a trash heap.

Redline was a region belonging to the Empire. It had factories, and the lives of its residents were far from comfortable. It was best understood as a sort of slum.

And becoming a mage changed one's life.

At least, Number 14 believed so.

And on paper, we are Claude Regan's disciples.

The outline was starting to take shape.

Claude Regan was a mage capable of summoning a monster like Harmensales. Deceiving clueless ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aspirants would have been child's play for him.

In that case, the method of escape was obvious.

Recruit laborers who harbored resentment toward Claude Regan. Of course, that alone wouldn't be enough. If they could have beaten him with raw fists, they wouldn't be exploited like this in the first place.

Baek Si-woo recalled the message from earlier.

A novice dark mage.

How was that different from the aspiring mages Number 14 spoke of?

What exactly could "Muzark Bespard" do?

As a side note, Leech never returned.

For a while, he kept his head down.

His life wasn't in immediate danger. The initial crisis had only arisen because his ore had been stolen. As long as he kept his wits about him and worked diligently, he wouldn't die.

Thanks to swinging his pickaxe until his bones ached, the second collection passed without incident. Yet, anger still simmered in his gut. The lightened weight of his cart felt miserable.

Although he conversed with various laborers, he didn't interact much with Scrap. He actively avoided her. Regardless of her friendly attitude, he couldn't shake his wariness.

However, he constantly felt her gaze on him.

It felt as though Scrap's interest in him was growing stronger by the day.

His premonition proved correct.

"Do you happen to have a mental illness?"

"What?"

"No, it's just that I really can't understand you."

During the break after work, Scrap approached him.

"A person doesn't just change overnight like that."

"Is that so? I wouldn't know."

"You changed. You used to be practically bursting with rage all the time, and now you're suddenly so sociable. I've seen quiet guys ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠snap, but I've never seen the reverse. Especially not in a place like this."

The laborers' territory within the mine was limited. There was no place to meet secretly. At best, they could only lower their voices, but the fact that they were talking couldn't be hidden.

"I wonder what happened to you."

Scrap stepped closer as she asked.

"Spells that affect the mind always have severe side effects and require high difficulty, and you don't seem to have that kind of skill... Hmm. Did Claude Regan do something to you?"

A foul stench from her long-unwashed body wafted over him.

"No, no. I don't think a third-rate dark mage like him could pull off such a clean brainwashing. Even if he could, I don't see why he'd bother putting in the effort."

Her hair was dry and brittle, her teeth coated in yellow tartar.

Yet, despite her haggard appearance, her eyes shone like stars.

"I've become curious about you."

For a split second, Baek Si-woo's heart hammered against his ribs.

The woman before him was deeply unsettling, sending a shiver down his spine.

"If it's just mental illness, it's none of my business, but you never know. Magic is everywhere. It wouldn't be strange for a beggar in a back alley to suddenly encounter magic that fills the sky one day."

Scrap suddenly grabbed Baek Si-woo's hand.

Then, she pressed down hard on the wound he had received during the collection.

"Ugh! What do you think you're doing?"

"Who knows? There might be some magic flowing inside here, too."

She smiled shyly as she wiped a drop of blood with her finger.

"Doesn't it make your heart flutter just thinking about it?"

Her clear eyes, her clear smile, and her clear voice. In this mine, where no ordinary person could remain pure, the clarity she displayed looked like nothing but the madness of a lunatic.

"I don't expect much, but still."

Her grip on his hand tightened with immense force.

"If you are a mage... remember my words well. Acquiring magic requires effort and study, but for those who already possess it, wielding it is easy. There's no need for complicated procedures."

It wasn't any grand teaching.

"Be honest with your emotions. If you want to smash something, it's easier if you have a hammer, right? We always have such a hammer in our hands. You just haven't realized it yet."

Gulp.

Baek Si-woo swallowed hard.

It wasn't just because of Scrap's crazed appearance. An even greater shock than his aversion to her blossomed in his chest.

The blood flowing from his tightly gripped hand turned into pitch-black smoke. A dark haze crept up the back of his hand, soon wrapping around his skin and transforming into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solid iron armor.

He didn't think of anything grand.

He just found the woman in front of him deeply unpleasant.

So, he simply wanted to shove her away.

To borrow her expression, this was his "hammer."

"Ahaha! It was real!"

Witnessing the magic, Scrap pulled Baek Si-woo's hand and rubbed it against her cheek. The sensation of her skin against his palm felt as repulsive as wriggling maggots.

"Crazy bitch..."

Information +1: Mages are mentally ill.

It was at the exact moment he was about to slap her hand away.

Ding!

Escape was drawing near.