021. A Thrilling Experiment
Sea-ah introduced me in her usual indifferent tone. "This is my classmate Kang Woojin. He's the main designer for the experiment we're testing today. This is the project I mentioned last time—the one pulling 'web novel historical accuracy data.'"
"Web…… novel?"
Kim, the senior researcher, and the other researchers' faces twisted for a moment.
Damn it, we got dragged in on a weekend morning with no overtime pay. And the reason is some undergrad kid's fantasy novel world-building game?!
Their expressions clearly showed a sense of hollow betrayal, like this crosses the line. But since it was an order from above, they couldn't openly lose their tempers. Kim forced the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, flashing me a strained smile.
"Ah, haha. A novel. That's great. You young folks these days have such amazing creativity. So, student, what kind of epic tale requires even our Taesan's vacuum induction melting furnace (VIM)?"
His words were polite, but beneath them lurked the prickly pride of a seasoned expert: Just try spouting some nonsense without even knowing the basics of engineering.
I could read their inner thoughts like an open book and smirked inwardly. As a merchant, the best way to deflate a trading partner's ego was to strike right at the heart of their most confident domain—with expert knowledge.
I pulled a notebook crammed with equations from my bag and spread it out on the table.
"Nice to meet you, Senior Researcher. I won't waste your time—straight to the point."
My eyes turned icy in an instant.
"The setting of my novel is a fantasy world with metallurgy tech at a 16th-century level. But the water there contains mana energy, so when it turns to steam, it generates at least four times the explosive expansion pressure of Earth's steam."
"……What? Four times?"
"Yes. I'm looking for a material that can withstand that insane pressure for a massive 'landship boiler.' The design calls for at least 150 atm internal pressure and temperatures over 400°C."
"150 atm?! 400°C?!"
Kim's forced smile vanished. His eyes bulged as his engineer's instincts kicked in.
"Kid, you joking? You think iron from a 16th-century bloomery or finery forge can handle 150 atm? Iron with impurities will brittle-fracture at over 400° because of sulfur—snaps like a twig! The whole setup doesn't even make sense!"
"Exactly. That's why we'll add 1.2% manganese to neutralize the sulfur as manganese sulfide. And we'll keep carbon content extremely low, under 0.15%, to ensure weldability and toughness."
"……!"
Kim's jaw dropped halfway as the professional formulas and solutions poured from my mouth.
"On top of that." I jabbed at the notebook with my finger, driving the point home. "We'll incorporate 1.0% chromium and 0.5% molybdenum, which can be mined in small quantities in that fantasy world. With the constraints of no modern quenching or precise heat treatment for such a massive boiler drum, I want the minimal alloy mix that maximizes high-temperature creep resistance and yield strength purely through proportions."
Silence.
The only sound in the lab was the hum of the ventilation fans.
Novel gimmick? A joke? No. This was an ultra-hardcore materials engineering optimization puzzle, deriving the perfect alloy formula under perfectly constrained conditions.
"Cr, chromium at 1 percent, molybdenum 0.5 percent…… on an ultra-low carbon 0.15% base, skipping heat treatment?"
The researchers' eyes changed—from the weary gaze of office workers dragged into unwanted weekend overtime to the gleaming obsession of engineering perverts facing an irresistible challenge.
"Hey, Team Lead Choi! Preheat the vacuum induction furnace now! Get molybdenum and chromium samples! Melt on a 0.15% carbon base!"
"Yes, sir! Adding limestone in classic proportions for slag formation!"
Any sycophantic flattery for Sea-ah's sake had long evaporated from their minds. They flung on their white coats and charged toward the equipment like madmen.
Sea-ah poked my side and whispered, "You nailed their tastes perfectly. Haven't seen those guys this excited in forever."
"A merchant always knows exactly what the other side wants."
"Merchant?"
"Something like that."
I grinned and dove into the fray among the researchers.
Zing—whirr!
A super-high-frequency magnetic field activated, melting the metals inside the vacuum furnace into glowing red molten steel. This was modern science at its peak—controlling impurities down to 0.001%—leagues beyond the crude fantasy blast furnaces.
"Kang Woojin! Manganese added! Temperature at 1,600°C! Pouring the melt!"
The red-hot molten steel flowed into dog-bone-shaped molds. We simulated the fantasy world's massive boiler casting by avoiding rapid quenching and letting it cool slowly at room temperature.
"Next up, gasket sealing test setup."
Sea-ah handed me heat-resistant gloves. I fitted my custom composite gasket—layered graphite powder and thin copper sheets, compressed together—onto the high-pressure steam simulator's pipe joint.
"Opening steam valve! 50 atm…… 100 atm breached!"
Pssshhh—!
The pressure gauge on the gasket tester skyrocketed. 150 atm—beyond Earth's norms. A regular rubber or leather packing would've melted away, steam slicing out like a blade.
"160 atm! 180 atm reached! No leaks! Perfect seal!"
Team Lead Choi cheered at the monitor. The graphite's heat resistance and copper's ductility filled microscopic gaps perfectly under pressure.
"Good. Sealing's solved. Now for the real test: the steel billet's strength."
The slowly cooled alloy steel sample clamped into the jaws of the universal testing machine (UTM). This was the experiment's crux—stretching it to destruction to extract its ultimate limits.
"Tensile test starting!"
Whirr—!
The hydraulic motor spun, pulling the sample from both ends. Kim, Sea-ah, and I glued our eyes to the stress-strain curve on the monitor.
"Hold…… hold stronger."
The graph line climbed steeply. The yield strength point—where permanent deformation began—flashed live onscreen.
"300 MPa breached! Still in elastic range!"
"400 breached! No, 450! Incredible!"
Kim pressed his face to the monitor in shock.
"Yield strength 480 MPa! Tensile strength nearing 650 MPa! Insane. With 16th-century smelting and just 1% chromium, 0.5% molybdenum—no proper heat treatment—and it hits this?!"
Crack—snap!
The sample finally shattered past its ultimate stress, but no one in the lab felt regret.
"We did it."
I punched the air, fist clenched tight. Yield strength 480 MPa. Cast at just 1.5 inches thick, these plates could shrug off the 150 atm mana steam that nearly blew Peluah sky-high!
"Amazing! Kang Woojin! That alloy ratio—pure genius intuition! We could patent it as-is!"
Kim pounded my shoulder, sweat-drenched and beaming. The researchers hugged and jumped like they'd scored in a World Cup final.
"Whew, that was actually fun."
Sea-ah flipped her cap brim back, wiping sweat from her forehead with a light laugh. For the first time, her usual impassive face broke into a vivid, relieved smile.
She approached and handed me a black USB packed with experiment data.
"Here, your novel specs. Good work, author."
I gripped the tiny plastic stick. Inside this speck was the perfect heart of a steel behemoth that would devour trade routes and redraw Peluah's map.
"Sea-ah. And Senior Researcher. Thank you so much."
I bowed deeply to them.
"I'll repay this debt when my business blows up."
"Business? Just treat us when your novel hits big. Oh, and about that chromium mix—if we cut carbon more and add vanadium……"
Kim's engineering pervert switch flipped back on, grabbing me for another rant, but I slipped back a step.
Modern world business: done. Perfect steel formula stolen.
"Haha, I'll ponder that for the next novel! Gotta run—manuscript deadline!"
Clutching the USB, I bolted from the Taesan special steel lab without looking back. My heart pounded wildly.
Time to go back. To that desperate workshop on the brink of explosion, where my partner Aila was suffocating in Valerius's web of capital.