Forging the Han Iron Refrigerator
Let's make a refrigerator. The next day.
Bang!Clang!
Dull, harsh metallic clangs echoed relentlessly through the forge of the Lord's Castle.
"My lady! This is absolutely impossible!"
The blacksmith Thomas spat out a ragged breath and dropped the hammer he was gripping to the floor.
Thick beads of sweat poured down his bare forehead like a downpour.
"Han Iron is a metal we only use in tiny amounts even for weapons! To pound it out like this into a solid sheet—it's barbaric!"
Grievances poured nonstop from his mouth.
And who could blame him? Han Iron was filthy heavy, filthy hard, and had freakishly high thermal retention—it wouldn't yield easily even in the flames.
Forcing it flat into the shape of a massive box? No wonder it felt like he was dying.
"At this rate, we won't even get the shape right."
"The shape doesn't matter. What counts is no gaps. As long as there's no place for air to leak through cracks."
"But my lady, what in the world are you even planning to use this for...?"
"Thomas."
Evelyn called his name in a voice that had sunk to a chill, and Thomas's broad shoulders jerked up in surprise.
For a split second, he wondered if he'd crossed a line.
Sure, the lady had been lenient with them lately, but she was still the ruler of this northern land.
"Y-yes! I'll make it happen somehow!"
Thomas stammered in a fluster.
Evelyn put on a deliberately stern face and stepped closer to him.
"If we complete this task successfully, I'll double the rations for the forge."
"...Oh, my lady! Of course we'll do it! Hahaha! Even if these old bones crumble to dust, I'll finish it by tonight!"
"Good! Let's start again!"
No sooner had Evelyn finished speaking than Thomas dashed back to the furnace and began pumping the bellows like a madman.
"There—seal those gaps more tightly! No cold air can leak out!"
"M-my lady! It's dangerous—please step back!"
"Hey, Ally, let go! That's not the point right now!"
"My laaady!"
"Ugh, seriously! Again!!"
Despite Ally's screams trying to pull her away, the fiery battle raged on for a full five hours.
"Huff, huff! M-my lady! Is this...?"
"Hm. No aging on the plate at all."
"Pardon?"
"The Han Iron didn't take the heat properly—the surface texture is way too rough."
"...Pardon?"
"The structure's balance is all off. The finish is super rough too."
"...P-pardon? What are you suddenly...?"
Thomas blinked in bewilderment, but Evelyn pointed firmly at the metal lump with an unyielding expression.
"...The overall quality just isn't there."
"...My lady?"
"Again!"
"Haha..."
And after another grueling ordeal, the next day arrived.
"Here, my lady! How's this?!"
"Hm... the texture..."
"Yes, let's do it over!"
Clang!Clang!Claaang!
Before Evelyn could even finish, Thomas started hammering away again.
She seemed like she had more to say, but he ignored it, throwing himself into the work.
...Sometimes I have no idea what the lady's even talking about.
A moment later, Thomas—face flushed red and panting hard—beckoned confidently.
"Here!! This one's perfect!!"
Evelyn crossed her arms and meticulously inspected the seams of the completed Han Iron box.
Hm. Looks like the gaps are properly sealed.
Screeech—
With a heavy frictional groan, she closed the door of the Han Iron box, then opened it again to make a final check of the airtight seal inside.
"Good. It passes."
"Yes!"
"Ally? Go fetch a bag made from troll leather."
"Pardon? A troll leather bag?"
Ally's face was a picture of confusion, but she bolted out of the forge without delay.
Soon enough, she returned, clutching a specially processed, tough troll leather pouch to her chest and gasping for breath.
"H-here it is."
"Good work! Now put the ice crystal stone in here... set it inside the Han Iron box... there, done!"
"...Pardon? What's done?"
Ally stared at Evelyn with wide, questioning eyes.
She couldn't make heads or tails of it.
By her common sense, they'd just made a giant chest out of sturdy Han Iron.
Just put an ice crystal stone in a pouch made from snowfield troll leather.
And closed the box with the pouch inside.
That was it.
"...You don't get it either, Thomas?"
"I'm truly sorry, my lady. This old fool's thick skull can't even grasp what we've made."
"Really? Want me to open it again?"
"Pardon? What on earth...?"
Thomas opened the heavy Han Iron box door with a dubious look—and froze like a statue.
He stared blankly into the interior.
"Thomas? What's wrong?"
Ally asked, but he didn't respond.
His eyes shook wildly, as if he'd witnessed a massive earthquake.
As if his very common sense had been rewritten.
It felt like decades of blacksmith knowledge were shattering to pieces.
"M-my lady."
"Hm! What do you think?"
"M-my laaaady!!"
"...Whoa, you scared me."
"How did you even think of this?! This, this is... Hey, you apprentice! Run and grab a hunk of raw meat!! Right now!!"
Thomas bellowed at the top of his lungs, veins bulging in excitement, his roar shaking the forge.
His apprentice dashed off and returned with meat; Thomas snatched it and shoved it straight into the Han Iron box, slamming the door shut.
Only Ally stood there, utterly baffled, trying to figure out what was going on.
What the—why?! What's happening?!
But no matter how she racked her brain, it made no sense.
"Thomas? Can't you explain? What is it?!"
"You still don't get it, Ally? The lady just invented something impossible!"
"So what is it?!"
"Ugh, seriously. Open your eyes and look!"
Thomas yanked open the heavy door again, veins popping, pulled out the meat, and thrust it into Ally's hands.
"Here! See for yourself!"
"Ack, it's cold! What the hell—huh? Uh?"
A dumbstruck gasp escaped Ally as she was about to complain.
"Get it now? Do you get it?! This is insane!"
Only then did Ally catch on.
The meat in her hands had rapidly chilled.
It had been lukewarm with blood just moments ago.
But in mere minutes, it was frozen solid like it'd been hit by a grand ice mage's spell—hard as a rock.
In horrified awe, she whipped her head toward Evelyn, nearly snapping her neck.
"This can't be...?"
"Ahem, ahem."
Evelyn cleared her throat pretentiously, and tears of emotion welled up in Ally's eyes.
Why's she tearing up? Is she that moved?
"Amazing, my lady! With this!"
"Right? With this, money... "
"We can solve the territory's food shortage!"
"W... haha."
"This is a revolutionary invention!!"
No, that's not it...?
"No, this is my refrigerator..."
"You named it refrigerator? Perfect! It has a great ring to it!"
"No, I mean..."
Let me finish...!
"Thomas! How many more can we make?!"
"We've got Han Iron coming out our ears. On your orders, my lady, I could churn out dozens even if it takes all night!"
"Then start now! Ten—no, dozens! With these, we might transport food intact from the south! This is the north's only hope!"
"You bet! Thinking of our starving people cheering fills these old arms with strength, haha!"
"Exactly! I'll head to the workshop and make as many snowfield troll leather bags as I can!"
Overcome with emotion, Ally trembled uncontrollably.
It was a natural reaction for anyone who'd lived their whole life in this north.
In this cursed territory plagued by chronic food shortages, trade with outsiders was their lifeline—but southern bounty always rotted away during the long haul.
But with that heavy Han Iron Refrigerator right there...
They could finally bring southern grain home intact, free from rot's terror. A miracle made real.
To Ally, it was like the Holy Grail.
With this, the kids might never go hungry again!
"Come on, let's get started! We need at least twenty!"
Thomas wasn't listening to Evelyn either.
Face alight, he began hammering furiously; Ally skipped out excitedly.
Left alone in the frenzy, Evelyn muttered desperately to empty air.
"No... I wanted to sell these to southern nobles..."
Her original plan was to sell the refrigerators for profit.
To amass wealth and build her own paradise.
But it was veering wildly off into selfless devotion for the territory.
Thomas's eyes, pounding metal madly, now gleamed with deep respect for Evelyn; the servants around watched her with moist eyes, like devout followers in rapture.
Our lady invented this great refrigerator, suffering for our barren land...!
Ah, her beauty shines alone... but her heart is even more beautiful... Ah, God, I can't hold back anymore!
"...Sigh. Whatever."
In the end, Evelyn let out a resigned sigh and trudged out of the forge with listless steps.
They wouldn't hear a word now.
In this swamp of mad delusion, nothing she said would reach them.
But even her weary, defeated silhouette took on new meaning to the servants.
Ah, how many sleepless nights? How hard was it? All that worry for us... Poor lady...!
"...Sigh."
Evelyn read their gazes and sighed once more.
Aching, burdensome stares clung to her back; she couldn't bring herself to turn and deny it.