Dreams and Hopes
Today, of all days, this shithole looked beautiful. The green fog that always blocked the sunlight and kept everything in perpetual gloom, the ramshackle houses stuck together like barnacles with a giant middle finger to urban planning, the bizarre structures dangling precariously in the cliff crevices like swallow nests. Even the mountains of trash that, from above, looked like giant turds the city had shit out felt like a uniquely romantic, strangely fitting backdrop.
The load on my back was heavy, but my steps were light. I grinned like an idiot as I flung open the door to the junk shop. Even though stepping inside still left me technically outdoors, the atmosphere shifted, as if the arbitrary boundary actually meant something.
“Grandpa, I’m back.”
Piles of scrap metal and junk stacked in chaotic heaps. Unlike the trash mountains outside, these were clearly valuable discards. Amid them, a nearly bald old man was absorbed in sorting.
“You’re here again? Persistent little shit.” Mathias Neumann. The old man, whose muscular build didn’t match his age, shot me a glare and shook his head. His attitude was pretty damn curt even for an elder, but those thick forearms corded with bulging veins meant few idiots dared mess with him. Besides, I was used to the old bastard’s cranky ways.
Since I was in a good mood today, none of it bothered me.
“If you’ve brought another pile of awkward junk again, just dump it over there and get lost. I’m busy.”
“Come on, not today.”
I dropped the basket I’d been carrying with a heavy thud right in front of Mathias. The old man frowned in annoyance at first, but his wrinkled brow smoothed out the moment he registered the weight. Sure enough, today’s haul was impressive enough to snag the interest of a junk shop owner who lived relatively well in the Hood.
“What the hell. You actually brought something useful for once.”
“Skip the compliments. Just look for yourself.”
When I swept aside the layer of trash I’d used as camouflage, a goddess statue the size of a child revealed its elegant form. The old man’s eyes widened as he studied it.
“Silver Iron…!”
“What? Isn’t this just some random chunk of metal?”
His reaction was far more dramatic than I’d expected—so much that even I was taken aback. Before I could finish wondering what the hell Silver Iron even was, Mathias rushed over, locked the shop door, and grabbed me by the collar.
“You little bastard, where the hell did you steal something like this?!”
“What kind of bullshit is that, old man? You going senile?”
“This isn’t a joke! If the people from uptown find out something like this has trickled down here, we’re both dead!”
The old man clearly hadn’t lost his mind yet. His deadly serious tone made my own expression harden.
Not meteoric iron, but Silver Iron. I dug through my memories for information on the unfamiliar metal. Ah, is it that stuff?
It hit me—this was a rare material that even carried a performance certification in the original work. An absurd metal that guaranteed above-average quality and performance no matter what you used it for. In terms from my old world, its versatility was comparable to titanium. Of course, this world had plenty of metals that reached even higher peaks, but that didn’t diminish Silver Iron’s value. Versatility was an overwhelming advantage in a material.
Plus, unlike titanium, Silver Iron was easy to process. It was a metal that practically begged to be handled well.
Oh.
The moment the realization landed, my heart gave a heavy thud and dopamine flooded my system for the first time in ages. I’d thought it was just a lucky day. Turns out it was an insanely lucky one. No way I should’ve had luck like this.
I forced down the grin threatening to split my face and deliberately played dumb.
“No way that’s Silver Iron. It’s even rusted.”
“Anything rusts if you don’t maintain it. Watch.”
Mathias clicked his tongue and kindly decided to prove his expertise himself. He pulled a rod with a small magic stone on the end from his inner pocket and carefully tapped the goddess statue’s shoulder. Instead of sparks, the entire statue shimmered with a mysterious light—the exact same brilliant glow I’d glimpsed from a distance earlier.
The magic catalyst reaction typical of high-value metals. I’d had the knowledge tucked away in a corner of my mind, but I’d never seen it in person and had completely forgotten.
Mathias’s hands trembled as he muttered, “If you stole it, put it back where it belongs right now. You might lose a hand, but at least you’ll live.”
“I keep telling you I didn’t steal it. I picked it up from the trash mountain.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“If I’d stolen it, I would’ve swaggered in bragging about the heist from the start. Why the hell would I lie to you?”
The old man’s courage must have shriveled with age. Instead of thinking about profiting from the treasure in front of him, he was trying to dodge it. Maybe it really was time for him to kick the bucket. He’d been around the Hood long enough that this pathetic behavior made no sense.
I slung an arm around Mathias’s shoulder and casually brought it up.
“Grandpa, you know what my dream is, right?”
“…Yeah. Getting out of here.”
“That’s why I’ve bothered you with all those ridiculous demands. Just think of it as indulging a annoying kid’s last tantrum and help me out one more time.”
Staring straight into the old man’s wavering eyes, I reached into the inner pocket of my worn trench coat. After rummaging around, I pulled out a single sheet of yellowed paper, neatly folded. The blueprint of my dream.
When I slowly unfolded it in front of him, Mathias’s trembling gaze finally steadied.
“You… that’s—”
“You’ve already figured it out. You really think I’d run my mouth about making a gun all this time without knowing anything?”
I’d spent what little money I had on books and carved out every spare minute to study. The basic knowledge I’d gained from school back in my old world had been a huge help. This was the result of combining that knowledge with my efforts in this world.
—Clack.
I pulled the metal rod from my waist—it still hadn’t fully become a gun—and set it on top of the blueprint. It was the product of endless trial and error, somehow cobbled together from soft metals like brass and tin that had no business being used in firearms. The thing looked vaguely like a Greek pistol but could barely fire a single bullet, let alone rapid-fire. A pathetic object. But it was undeniably a gun. I’d even used it to turn the tables on the bastard who tried to kill me. That alone should prove my mechanical engineering knowledge wasn’t completely worthless.
I kept persuading him calmly.
“I made this myself. Shoving scrap into a stove and going through every kind of hell to do it.”
Though he was listening, Mathias’s eyes kept darting between the metal rod and the blueprint. As a former blacksmith, he’d probably already realized exactly what I was suggesting.
“Open the forge for me, just for a bit. I won’t ask you to make the whole thing. Just let me use the facilities and I’ll handle the rest. Do that, and after I make one gun, all the leftover materials are yours.”
It was a pretty outrageous offer. Help make one gun and he could swallow dozens of kilos of Silver Iron. Even without knowing the exact numbers, it was probably enough money to quit this junk shop, leave the Hood, and enjoy a comfortable retirement.
I hadn’t thrown out the proposal blindly. Most people born in the Hood had already lost all motivation, but those who fell here from outside were always ready to climb back up the moment an opportunity appeared. Mathias was one of the latter. He’d originally been a renowned blacksmith in the upper city before getting dragged into some dirty business. It was a well-known rumor. And people like him didn’t betray easily, if only for the sake of their pride. He had his own calculations.
“Hmm…”
Mathias stood motionless for a long time with his eyes squeezed shut, then finally spat out, “Kain, you crazy bastard.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Of course he wouldn’t refuse. I flashed him a grin.
The old man strode over to the brazier he usually used for baking potatoes, ripped open a sack of coke, and shoveled it all into the furnace. Then he grabbed the goddess statue by the neck with one hand and hurled it into the blazing flames. The goddess’s face flushed bright red as her entire body began to melt and slump.
The blasphemous sight made me whistle. “Whew, grandpa. You’re hardcore.”
Mathias, carefully studying the blueprint covered in sketches of various firearms, muttered under his breath.
“Three days. Come back in three days.”
“Oh?”
Understanding what he meant, I broke into a huge smile. “I thought you weren’t going to help. So you’re really making it?”
“Yeah, you idiot. What kind of proper gun could some kid who’s only played with mushy scrap metal make? Besides, according to your offer, the payment is more than enough.”
“Thanks, grandpa!”
“I’ll try making bullets too since we have the blueprint, but that’s a specialist’s field so I can’t guarantee quality. Look into that part separately later.”
Things were going ridiculously smoothly. I left the junk shop riding a wave of happiness. Looks like my life was finally starting to turn around.
After properly shopping for the first time in a while, I headed home. It was a pathetic shanty, but a home was still a home—it at least kept out the rain and wind.
When I unlocked the door and stepped inside, a slender silhouette rose from behind a thin dividing screen.
“Mmm… Brother, you’re back?”
“Yeah.”
It was my little sister, Sara.
“Ehehe.”
I gently stroked her frizzy hair as she hugged me and checked her condition. Thankfully, she didn’t look any worse than usual. Her body was noticeably frail for her age, and a large mask covered more than half of her small face. The design was so exaggerated it looked like something a wasteland ruler would wear, but Sara had been born with a weak respiratory system. Without it, she couldn’t survive.
The maintenance costs were obscenely high—half my income disappeared into that mask—but I never resented the expense. We were family. You don’t skimp on money when family is sick.
If it had just been me, I might have escaped the Hood long ago. But what would be the point if I abandoned my family? Even Kain’s mother had looked after us until the end. If a half-mad woman could fulfill her responsibility, there was no way a sane person like me could abandon his sister.
The sound of her heartbeat, felt clearly through her thin ribs, and the faint warmth of life filled me with determination. I would definitely get out of here. Together with my sister.