The MK2 and the Metal Pig
The walk out of the VIP Salon.
Jang Hyun-woo, who had followed me out, opened his mouth with a beaming smile.
"You're now a bona fide celebrity in the industry, it seems. Turning down the Vice President of [Ark] and his blank check just like that."
He looked positively delighted, as if this were an unexpected pleasure he hadn't seen coming.
I glanced back over my shoulder and answered.
"It was an offer worth refusing. Though, by the way... you seem rather pleased that I turned all of them down?"
"Hoho... I can hardly deny it when it shows this plainly. I may be disqualified as a manager. But all things considered, I couldn't help thinking that if a client remains a freelancer rather than signing with a corporation, he might make more frequent use of our dear 'The Archive.'"
Jang Hyun-woo's eyes curved into contented crescents.
Taken at face value, that almost sounded like sound logic...
This man is a slippery one, no two ways about it.
From our very first meeting he'd been subtly probing at my identity, and this time too, I could sense him casting about for something. I knew he wasn't just any ordinary manager, but something about him felt calculating—scheming, even.
Like the other hunters I met up above, there might be someone behind Jang Hyun-woo too—someone eager to recruit me.
Whoever could pull the strings of a black-market VIP manager from behind the scenes would have to be quite the heavy hitter.
Well, as long as there was no malice in it, I didn't much care. I was the one enjoying the conveniences and benefits this place provided, so a mutually exploitative business relationship like this suited me fine.
"On another note, I couldn't help wondering—the blank check from [Ark], the workshop access offer from [Dokkaebi], the careful recruitment pitch from [Osung]... you've deferred them all. It wouldn't happen to be because you have something else in mind, would it...?"
It was a question with its intent written all over its face, but judging from Jang Hyun-woo's expression as he asked, he'd deliberately let the intent show—because it didn't matter whether I caught on.
An unspoken promise: whatever it is you want, we'll quietly figure it out and provide it.
Honestly, I felt good about it rather than otherwise. There was nothing unpleasant in it at all.
"Like I said a moment ago, for the time being... I think I'd like to just live a life like this."
"I see. My sincere regret, then, that I have nothing more to offer you."
The elevator began its descent once more, sinking toward the depths below.
Ding—
The moment the heavy doors of B5—the lowest basement level, Workshop 0—swung open, a thunderous bellow came flying at us.
"Oh! You're back, you lunatic! What did you drag in this time?!"
Despite the coarse language, Dr. Lee stood there smacking his lips, unable to hide the expectation brimming from his face—waiting so long he'd worked himself into an impatient lather. Unlike Jang Hyun-woo, the snake who concealed his intentions behind half-veiled words, this man's true feelings poured out of his whole body no matter how foul his mouth got. An absurd laugh almost escaped me.
Dr. Lee looked ready to combust if I didn't show him something on the spot, so I chuckled and opened my briefcase.
"What did I bring? You're the one who told me to come back whenever I found something interesting."
At that, Dr. Lee's eyes locked onto the bag.
"So what is it? Stop stalling and pull it out."
"A toy I think you'll be very fond of, Doctor."
From deep inside the bag, I drew out something radiating a heavy, imposing presence and set it down on the workbench with a thud.
Clunk—
The core of the metal giant that had appeared in the 'Suspended World.'
The Irregular's core, once glowing blue, still bore on its surface the razor-sharp cut marks carved into it by [Sharpness].
"Oh-ho... now this..."
Dr. Lee immediately slapped on his goggles and pressed the sensors of his prosthetic arm against it.
Vmmm— crackle—
"Good heavens... another Concept Magic Stone? Does the honey pot only show itself to your eyes or something?"
The remark stung a little, but I rolled my eyes and played dumb.
"The mana wavelength is different this time. Heavy... and dense. But look here—at the cut surface. The severed cross-section has fused back together and stabilized, hasn't it?"
Dr. Lee held a magnifying glass up and muttered on.
"Even though it was cut by [Sharpness], it re-metalized the air particles along the cut plane to preserve its form. Astonishing self-restoration. A magic stone that repairs itself... I've never heard of such a thing."
His eye for detail was as sharp as ever. One glance, and he'd dissected its properties as if flipping through an encyclopedia.
He stood there for a while, dazed, murmuring a torrent of jargon only he understood—then his eyes snapped open as if struck by lightning.
"[Metallization]... That's it! This stone's concept is [Metallization]! The power to transmute every substance within a given range—even air itself—into metal properties! If I inject mana like so...!"
Ssssrrk—
A silvery-gray ripple spread out from around the magic stone, and even the air above the workbench crystallized, flashing like polished metal before it hardened and fell.
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
The motor on Dr. Lee's prosthetic arm whirred away, a faithful barometer of his excitement.
"This... this is tremendous. Truly tremendous."
Dr. Lee explained, spraying spittle as he went.
"Do you know what happens if you embed this into a weapon? You could forge a cursed blade that turns whatever it grazes into metal. Well, it wouldn't transmute a whole body in an instant, so it'd be hard to use offensively. No—forget offense! If I combine my own techniques to create a 'self-multiplying alloy'... we could make something like a 'regenerating blade' that grows back no matter how many times you cut with it! Wouldn't that be splendid!"
Was this his muse or what? He'd already drawn hundreds of blueprints in his head, apparently, rattling off applications in a fevered voice.
"Armor? Don't even get me started! Layer the plating by metalizing it each time it takes an impact, and theoretically you could build an invincible shield! I can't even begin to guess what it would fetch if we put it up for auction right now!"
His voice climbed higher and higher into a squeal. There was no dreamier material in the world, as far as he was concerned.
And then... as if he'd suddenly remembered that I hadn't decided what to do with it yet, he shot me a wary sideways look.
"...So? Have you decided? What are you going to do with it? Me, I don't care what happens as long as I get to lay hands on it, but..."
The way he glanced around nervously, worried I might consign it to the auction block, was genuinely hilarious. Even an old man who'd opened our very first meeting by calling me a lunatic apparently had things he was scared of.
He swallowed hard, waiting for the answer to leave my mouth. All things considered, after what happened last time, I surely wouldn't sell it. From the look of him, he was hoping for some special refinement.
At that sight, I put on my most amiable smile and reached into my coat for a familiar object.
Screeeech—
With every inch the retractor groaned, Dr. Lee's face crumpled through a full gradient of despair.
"...I was quite satisfied with the last job, you see. But this thing still seems unfinished to me."
Light. Familiar. The moment I confirmed once more that the object in my hand—the cutter knife—was the subject of today's refinement, Dr. Lee's expression froze solid like a plaster statue.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds... and then a shriek that could've evicted the whole workshop tore through the silence.
He no longer cared whether I stayed or went—the roar came pouring out.
"YOU CRAZY SON OF A—!!!"
CRASH!
Dr. Lee grabbed the wrench beside him and hurled it, raging.
"Again?! That damn toy knife again?! Are you out of your mind? No, seriously—is your brain brainwashed with something like carving turds out of gold? You want to hammer this precious thing into a CUtter KnIfE?"
Watching him rampage was like watching a museum director witnessing a vandal about to deface a national treasure.
"This is blasphemy against the material! I cannot, will NOT, stand by and watch you turn a material no one else has ever laid eyes on into garbage! Get out! Go find someone else to do it!!"
He looked ready to throw me out on the spot.
But I stood my ground and answered with unashamed cheek.
"Doctor. Please, calm yourself. First of all, this is not a toy knife. Have you ever seen a toy knife with the [Sharpness] concept honed into it?"
"Well, that's—"
"And what, in your mind, makes a legendary blade, Doctor? An artifact? Some relic pulled from a dungeon? Is that all a legendary blade is?"
I silently raised my cutter knife to eye level.
"No. In the thick of battle, fitting perfectly in its user's hand. Moving exactly as I intend, killing exactly whom I want dead, the way I want. That is what makes a legendary blade."
This much, at least, was heartfelt.
Once I'd built up a bit of financial breathing room, I had actually given it some thought. The thought of switching to different equipment.
But it hadn't lasted long.
I had plans to acquire new long-range gear, support equipment, armor, and the like as the need arose—but I never had any intention of replacing this with some other dagger.
The pink current flowing off the red solid line in a gray world... nothing cuts through that better than this. If only its durability could keep up.
Something needlessly heavy, awkward to store, requiring special technique just to swing—I had absolutely no use for any of that. What I did was simply split the flow, the work of a surgeon with a scalpel in hand.
"Rather than swinging a greatsword several times my body weight with swordsmanship I don't have—isn't it better to slit a throat 0.1 seconds faster and survive? If that's the case, then for me, this IS the relic. This IS the artifact."
"...Hnnnngh."
"And speaking of which, Doctor. Have you ever considered this? Take an existing A-Rank artifact and polish it, add to it, and all you get is a slightly higher-graded artifact. A slightly better weapon than an already good weapon. That's where it ends."
Though, granted, for a private individual, acquiring artifacts was about as realistic as plucking stars from the sky—the fact that I'd never manage it at all was a bonus problem.
"What are you on about now—"
"But what about this mass-produced, 2-million-won item straight off a store shelf? Through your hands, Doctor, a mass product has become something that rivals—no, surpasses—custom artifacts and relics. You might as well have forged it from nothing."
Making a good thing slightly better earned you little credit. But raising a mass product into the ranks of the legendary? The maker's reputation would ascend to another dimension entirely.
And this is a task worth that kind of reputation.
Dr. Lee groaned and clutched the back of his neck.
He wanted to argue back. He wanted to argue back SO badly... but somehow, damn it all, it was persuasive.
Besides, a tool was at its best when it pleased the one wielding it—that much was also true.
Its durability was a bit shabby, sure, but with the [Sharpness] magic stone embedded, it stood on practically the same starting line as any artifact.
"Whew... whew..."
He heaved a few rough breaths, and then finally slumped down where he stood.
"If only I'd kept my mouth shut... ugh... I can't argue with that. Fine. Who's going to talk you out of your stubbornness anyway."
He muttered in resignation.
"This lunatic... a hunter gone completely off his rocker on concept gimmicks..."
Even as he grumbled, his mechanical prosthetic arm was already clacking through its adjustments, shifting into precision-craft mode.
The heart of this job: securing infinite durability and regenerative power using the [Metallization] concept. And on top of that, using it to solve, at least in part, the problem of the blade's frustratingly short reach.
Vmmmmm—
A laser melted down the core, and the painstaking work of implanting its essence into the cutter knife's internal circuitry began.
Perhaps because we'd already found our rhythm together during the [Sharpness] job, unlike last time, Dr. Lee's hands moved with almost supernatural speed.
And at last—
"Done. Goddammit..."
Dr. Lee flung the finished piece across the bench at me.
On the outside it looked no different from a 2-million-won mass product, but the moment I took it, I knew.
This is...
"Hmph. Surprised? I overhauled the grip from the ground up. I painted the exterior to look like cheap plastic, just the way you like it, but the inside is a special shock-absorbing alloy. A tank could drive over it now and it wouldn't so much as dent."
I had never requested that particular paint job.
But it was undeniably different now—that grip that fit my hand like a glove. And of course, the real heart of it lay beyond even the handle...
Screeech.
The moment I pushed it upward, I felt the change.
Shiiing—!
With a piercing ring of metal, the blade regenerated itself, extending out to at least a full meter.
I gave it a test swing.
Ssak.
As expected, [Sharpness] remained untouched—the total absence of resistance as it parted whatever it met was exactly the same. And when I tested the once-problematic durability, snapping it at its weak point along the flat of the blade, the marvel followed: the edge simply grew back.
"...Satisfied?"
Dr. Lee wore the expression of a man baffled by his own creation.
"Of course."
The moment my own custom, flawless weapon was complete—uniting the cutting power of [Sharpness] with the durability and versatility of [Metallization].
A name, now that we had a concept going... something like Office Cutter Knife MK2 wouldn't be bad, would it?
That is, if I ever have to register it with the Hunter Administration Bureau someday.
It was finished.
"And with that, it's truly over."
Dr. Lee waved his hand with a drained, hollow look.
"Never come back. I can feel my artistic soul being seriously contaminated. I never want to look at another cutter knife as long as I live!"
But my eyes were still sparkling.
Part of the reason I'd reinforced the cutter knife in the first place: the smaller the weapon, the less material it requires.
Sure enough, a core fragment—still a good quarter of the original—was rolling around on the workbench.
"Doctor. We're not done yet."
"...What?"
"It'd be a waste to leave the leftover material, wouldn't it? Make me one more thing with it."
Dr. Lee's eyes went wary, darting between the leftover material and me.
"Don't tell me... another dagger? You dual-wield too?"
"No."
I shook my head firmly.
The other hand would ordinarily be carrying my briefcase, after all.
"I don't need a dagger. Instead... hmm. A piggy bank shape would be nice. Make me a piggy bank."
"...What?"
"A piggy bank. Make it cute, while you're at it. Pig-shaped."
Clunk.
The wrench in Dr. Lee's hand dropped to the floor.
For a long moment he blinked, his face unable to process what he'd just heard—then he grabbed the back of his neck and swayed on his feet.
I don't know how he managed to understand it, but he'd clearly intuited that this was something catastrophic even he had never dreamed of.
"You... you... you DEMON! Get out! Out of my workshop, NOW!!"
Dr. Lee's scream echoed through the fifth basement level.
One hour later.
Even as I was practically shoved out of the underground workshop, I couldn't hide the grin spreading across my face.
Dr. Lee had cursed me to the very end—"lunatic," "destroyer of art"—but the results were satisfying.
Two treasures rested in my arms.
One was the cutter knife from earlier—the Office Cutter Knife MK2.
And the other... a gleaming silver pig, tucked preciously against my left arm.
A kitschy, adorable little Metal Pig Piggy Bank.
I know what you're thinking—a piggy bank? But that's [Metallization], isn't it. [Metallization] that produces metal of enormous value, no less.
Jingle—
As a test, I gave the pig a gentle shake, and something dropped from its snout with a soft plink.
I looked down at what had landed in my palm.
A metallic coin—silvery-gray, a special metal born of [Metallization].
A cash machine that absorbs ambient mana from the air and manufactures, from within itself, a byproduct of the [Metal] concept.
A truly inexhaustible spring. He'd created the very incarnation of a creation economy.
Each of these coins was a high-purity mana conductor—worth roughly 3 million won at market price.
Once a day was the limit, but that amounted to a decent office worker's monthly salary.
Nine million won a month for doing nothing but breathing. A system that deposits a 100-million-won annual salary straight into my pocket.
Doesn't even compare to the salary I earned working like a dog at Ark.
Was this not the dream of every modern office worker—the very symbol of 'financial independence'?
"Perfect."
Right down to the fact that if I ever needed emergency cash, I could crack it open and sell a piece.
Truly, the grace of the dungeon flowed vast as the sea and the rivers.
The dungeon was god. The dungeon was invincible.