The Jusaek Magic Tower (Part 2)
The Jusaek Magic Tower had hiked the price of heat stones.
As if in celebration, the gallery erupted into deafening cheers—or rather, a relentless barrage of jeers and fury. A hundred dumplings rolled off the tongue easily enough, but considering that was roughly the equivalent of a hundred thousand won back on Earth, it was an astronomical markup.
"At this rate, it'd be cheaper to just boil water over firewood."
A hundred grand every time someone wanted to draw a hot bath. If things kept going like this, basic personal hygiene was about to become an exclusive luxury reserved solely for the filthy rich.
In a desperate attempt to douse the flames, the master of the magic tower scrambled to upload an explanation.
First off, let me be clear: we didn't hoard inventory just to gouge prices. Not at all.
Heat stones aren't manufactured goods to begin with.
They're residual byproducts left behind from magical experiments and research. No matter how resource-intensive our field is, we're still just a single magic tower;
Every major race across the land is buying them up by the crate. How is our lone tower supposed to cover the demand of the entire continent?
Supply fell hopelessly short of demand.
Heat stones were originally mana stones—minerals that literally held concentrated mana. Once used and drained during magic experiments, the residual thermal energy trapped within failed to dissipate entirely, leaving behind a smoldering heat stone.
Even so, forcing them to freeze prices at baseline wasn't reasonable either. Magic towers were bottomless money pits by their very nature. But was that inherently bad? Not at all. The more coin a magic tower burned through, the more commerce surrounding it thrived. From the perspective of Kellierton, and certainly from that of Jusaek Magic Tower, which desperately needed operational funds, there was no reason to slash prices when lines of buyers stretched around the block.
"Not like we can rely on other towers, either."
Not every school of magic devoured mana stones at such an obscene rate. The Jusaek Magic Tower was an anomaly because they had pioneered a bizarre new discipline called Magitech, burning through resources at double the standard pace.
Curiosity finally got the better of me.
"Just what on earth are they researching that eats that many mana stones?"
What the hell is Magitech anyway, you geeks?
Still, who was I? The Gallery Administrator. There was no need to sit around stewing in confusion, so I shot a direct message to Ji-pok-beop on the spot.
Normally, magic towers guarded their internal research like state secrets. I had anticipated stony silence, but a notification pinged back almost before my thought finished forming.
"...Elon Musk?"
How had he engineered something like that? The term steampunk immediately sprang to mind: a fusion where science and magic embraced rather than shunned each other, coexisting in harmonious synthesis.
"Is this guy a genius?"
In a medieval realm where magic took precedence over all else, empirical science should have possessed zero breathing room. If scientific thought had been normalized, people wouldn't still be pouring milk over infected battle wounds or preaching that physical cleanliness tarnished the sanctity of the soul.
"No wonder it devours mana stones."
That explained the consumption, but why on earth did everyone keep mistaking me for some mythical archmage? Leaving it alone would only cause the delusion to metastasize further. I decided to level with him.
Seriously, I didn't know the first letter of the magical alphabet.
"...Wait, what?"
My eyes narrowed into slits at Ji-pok-beop's reply. Don't tell me Magitech, Jusaek Magic Tower, every single scrap of it...
All those modern commodities I had casually tossed onto the marketplace out of boredom or to keep the surviving gallery users alive... Jusaek Magic Tower was a gathering of scholars who had become utterly enthralled by modern technological wonders, mistaken them for transcendent sorcery, and dedicated their lives to reverse-engineering them.
The core issue was that those modern items didn't contain a single speck of magical energy. They were pure, unadulterated science. Yet here these wizards were, burning through mana stones day and night, trying to reproduce mechanical engineering through incantations...
The Jusaek Magic Tower was a place where wizards assembled to study science under the delusion that it was my high magic.
Too bad for them, I was a liberal arts guy right down to my marrow.
"What a dizzying headache."
Suddenly anointed as both the conceptual essence and honorary Grandmaster of a magic tower, I set the gallery interface aside and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
"So that's why their heat stone output was so absurdly high."
Attempting to force modern engineering to function through mana meant burning through several times the materials of any conventional spellcraft. Because it was never magic to begin with. Yet despite their ceaseless efforts, the gallery was still screaming for heat stones. Even with a surplus of raw mana stones, there was a physical bottleneck on how many the tower could process each day.
"In that case..."
A bright spark flashed in my mind.
Short on heat stones? Then wouldn't the problem solve itself if we provided a way for ordinary people to continuously burn through mana stones on their own?
New items have been stocked in Judddak's Marketplace!
New Item 'Refrigerator' registered.
It was time to unleash home appliances upon the apocalypse.
Human beings cannot live without refrigerators.
More specifically, once someone tastes the sublime luxury of refrigeration, their body is irrevocably conditioned to crave it forever. Which meant a massive, self-sustaining sink for mana stones was officially open for business.
Food preservation and shelf life were critical matters of survival in this broken fantasy world. Edibles were the single greatest challenge of the post-war wasteland; nobody hunted and devoured grotesque demon beasts just for culinary enjoyment. Thus, the gallery members relied desperately on Judddak's Marketplace.
2. Scream "CANNED TUNA!" at the top of your lungs -> A scalper materializes from the shadows and sells one for 50 dumplings
Demand for canned tuna was so staggering that a thriving black market had formed around it. Just as the forum users were camping out as usual, eyes glued to the listing refresh button...
An unfamiliar contraption had made its grand debut. A refrigeration compartment and a freezing compartment: the quintessential modern two-door refrigerator. Yet, for a community practically deranged by the need to preserve food, the initial reaction was surprisingly lukewarm.
Until now, the items listed on the marketplace had been modest, affordable goods. Dropping a sudden 500-dumpling titan provoked bewilderment rather than excitement. Of course, I had never stocked high-end consumer appliances before, nor had I ever planned to.
"Where were they supposed to draw electricity from?"
It wasn't like anyone could pray for a lightning strike to power their house every time storm clouds gathered; without power, selling an appliance would have just burdened them with a pretty tin can. But that was no longer an obstacle.
[Beastfolk Emote: "OMG, you HAVE to buy this!"]
To everyone currently crying over food preservation:
Why haven't you bought a refrigerator yet?
This is an absolute must-have essential.
Engineered to banish all your worldly worries and woes forever www
Even after pinning such a heartfelt notice, sales did not skyrocket immediately. Still, there was no reason to fret over the conversion rate.
"It'll sell eventually."
I was possessed by absolute certainty. There was no universe in which a refrigerator wouldn't sell. Besides, even when prices were astronomical and supply was scarce, there was always someone out there willing to buy on a whim. For instance...
A certain filthy-rich, highly suspicious Assistant Moderator was one such impulsive shopper.
A total of one hundred refrigerators had been listed on the marketplace. Out of that entire batch, barely ten had managed to sell. Erzsebet happened to be one of those ten early adopters.
"It looks bizarre."
Tap.
Her first impression of the refrigerator was deeply peculiar. It functioned essentially like a colossal chest of drawers, yet its exterior was needlessly gorgeous, carrying the refined elegance of high art. Sleek, mesmerizing contours drew quiet admiration even from Erzsebet, who had grown sick of admiring royal masterworks over centuries of existence. And despite looking impossibly heavy, it was surprisingly light enough for someone to lift if they put their mind to it.
What was its true purpose?
"Truly strange."
Just as she stood engaged in a quiet staring contest with the metal monolith, a reply arrived from Judddak.
Erzsebet followed Judddak's instructions step by step. Just as she was preparing to transmit the confirmation photo back to him...
Huuuuum. Whirrrr.
"—!"
A soft radiance began to bleed from the seams of the sleek rectangular box. Soon after, a crisp, refreshing chime rang out into the quiet chamber.
"...?!"
A serene, melodic woman's voice emanated directly from the metallic relic. Was there a tiny person trapped within? Erzsebet leaned down and examined every nook and seam, but there was nowhere near enough volume to conceal a human being. Erzsebet's ruby eyes rounded into wide, startled circles.
"This is... Judddak's supreme sorcery...!"
Some chose to label this Magitech; others revered it as the pinnacle of high magic. Confronted with the marvel humming before her, Erzsebet had no choice but to nod in solemn awe of his unfathomable genius. And this was merely the prelude.
Ding-dong, ding-dong.
"...Excuse me?"
Prompted by the appliance's polite demand, Erzsebet hurriedly tucked her cans of cola and bottles of tomato juice inside, just as Judddak had commanded earlier. Then, she crouched down before the machine. Judddak had advised that it would take at least an hour to observe proper results. Waiting was the one discipline she mastered above all others.
Erzsebet tilted her head, gazing curiously at the object—or rather, at the lady who embodied the consciousness of this high spell.
"You are quite bold, aren't you?"
No living creature had ever dared to issue direct commands in the presence of the mistress of the floating ruined castle, Mariaka.
Is it because she is a living creation forged by Judddak himself?
Just as she was sinking into deep philosophical contemplation, a fresh alert pinged across her vision.
"Pardon me."
Ding.
The very moment she parted the door and slipped her pale hand inside...
"C-Cold!"
Erzsebet's lips parted in sheer disbelief. She hadn't sensed the slightest trace of mana or spellcasting, so how was this frost conjured?!
Yet an even greater revelation awaited her in the chilled cans of cola and tomato juice.
"Delicious!"
The carbonation in the cola had achieved an icy, prickling perfection, and the previously tepid, bland tomato juice had been elevated into a nectar of absolute flawlessness. When she logged back onto the Gallery with wide, stunned eyes to witness how the world was reacting, the rest of the forum was already descending into the exact same state of euphoric hysteria.