Enrollment
"Ugh."
He barely dragged his sluggish body upright. He'd forged a single Damascus dagger the day before and collapsed right after. The bed must've been uncomfortable, because his whole body ached. Even the sofa in Ya-geumsul-sa's workshop didn't have bed-like comfort functions, apparently.
Groaning, he perched on the edge of the sofa and reflected on the past few days. Awakening, whining a bit, getting the forge—he'd been a mess. He had to admit what needed admitting.
'Awakening. And the Gallery... You enjoyed it too, didn't you?'
Separate from his dislike of awakeners, he couldn't deny how useful the perks of awakening were.
He opened the Craftsman Gallery. Time to seriously assess his situation. It took three days just to get the vibe of the place, and he'd wasted two pulling aggro and making knives. He had to make the last day count. Luckily, the gallery veterans had kindly answered his questions.
The biggest shock was how each came from wildly different dimensions. Some from medieval fantasy worlds with dragons soaring around, others from soft romance novels. Mana was commonplace in some places, a rare privilege in others like his. Most didn't even know about the Black Tower. In his dimension, he was the only one accessing the Gallery.
He was deep into gallery scrolling and studying when Ya-geumsul-sa jumped into the conversation.
In a laboratory from some dimension.
"Mm..."
A woman in a white lab coat sprawled over her desk stirred awake. It was Ya-geumsul-sa, Eponine Roshe. A dagger with Legendary options lay by her head. She'd passed out mid-research after pulling an all-nighter.
Eponine eyed the dagger with a sour expression. Dozing off while probing something was routine. But failing to find a clue even by the next day? That was a first.
How could such a shoddy dagger boast incredible options? The blade was thick, the tip blunt. A finger or tree branch would be sharper. Yo-i-yo-i wouldn't even use this scrap for slicing rice cakes...
She glanced sideways. A wooden doll pierced like a shish kebab by a sharp spear. Legendary swords snapped in two. Mithril bars sliced clean. Yesterday's experiment debris.
'Without even infusing mana.'
A casual poke from a steel sword split wood; a light tap cleaved mithril. How? No clue.
Magic followed rational laws. Its mechanisms had been theorized for centuries. People breathing fire or turning to sand after eating it? Commonplace now. But a 3cm-radius magic beam punching a precise 1cm hole? Not normal. Even cutting-edge gear couldn't pinpoint why.
"Sigh."
This would take time. She freshened up lightly, grabbed breakfast, and returned. Her table was sparse: a frozen pizza slice, three tomatoes for dessert. She microwaved the pizza, took a bite, and opened the Gallery.
First task: review overnight posts. Her insatiable thirst for knowledge manifested in this odd habit.
The board vibe was business as usual. Artisans wasting time on trivial chatter.
Irritation flared. These were top artisans from their worlds, weren't they? They should share techniques, debate, evolve. Lounging around like this? Imagining them hailed as masters twisted her gut. Tsk.
"Nom."
Eponine chewed her tomato-sauced pizza, scrolling relentlessly. Nothing worth noting today either.
"I was the fool for expecting more."
As she went to close it, a post caught her eye. A newbie seeking her out.
She tapped it. A Damascus dagger photo greeted her, its watery patterns beautifully etched like age rings. A thank-you gift for the Cube Forge, apparently.
She'd lent the dagger as payment—what more thanks? Exchange gifts till death? She grumbled inwardly, but her lips twitched upward.
"Ha, that kid... Cute."
Eponine zoomed in, scrutinizing as a skilled smith, passionate researcher, renowned scholar, and professor. The weapon's quality wasn't exceptional. She'd added options post-finishing; the forging process screamed no mana use. Blade and hilt design fell just short of perfect. Everything else? Solid.
'Hammer work's brutally good, though.'
A touch of basic magic could've made it far more functional. Regrettable, but dimensional tech gaps explained it.
From chatting with the newbie yesterday, she'd learned his world's mana utilization was prehistoric. They could wrap mana for fights but lacked engineering or technical know-how.
And his 21st-century civilization matched hers scientifically. The photo background—electric machines, modern structures—proved it.
Thrilling. Gallery artisans topped out at industrial-era levels. No one grasped electricity or automation. She'd been frustrated alone when this relatable smith appeared. That's why she'd sent the Legendary dagger despite her backlog.
Plus, the human had charm. Fine, tech and civ weren't the point. Passion was! She never voiced her old-school views aloud, but she valued drive. Python was a promising newbie.
Rushing home with the forge. Sweating buckets for a thank-you forge session. She pictured him bouncing excitedly in his new workshop.
No one so passionate these days. She'd love to keep him around, nurture him... How?
Her genius brain supplied an answer moments later.
She grinned wickedly and opened the Gallery.
Ya-geumsul-sa's sudden comment. The vibe felt off—not good off. In his experience, chats starting "Come see me" or "Talk to me" ended badly. Pyo Yeojeong often summoned him that way to rant about the mercenary corps imploding.
Private messages even? Had he screwed up? Was gifting knives a breakup signal in her world? He swallowed hard and agreed.
His deep-seated academic inferiority complex slipped out in polite speech. Ya-geumsul-sa plowed on regardless.
Help with research? She was from another dimension—no Cube Forge tech on Earth. Maybe light-years away. How could he help?
Social experiment! He had no idea what that meant.
He replied with a casual "Yeah." What was she building to?
What?! He deleted his "Yeah" and edited to "Listening intently, Professor." He bolted upright from the sofa, knelt before the Gallery status window, awaiting her next message reverently.
Defensive artifacts. If real, kids wouldn't play with loaded guns. No grannies hawking ferns and pistols at markets.
'The Black Tower too...'
He could climb higher. Fewer casualties, cripples. Maybe even check hunters...
Performance debates were dumb. Folks carrying forges in chocolate-sized cubes? Obviously OP.
Lessons too? Could he accept this? His body trembled faintly. Giddy excitement bubbled into a grin. Misreading his pause, she kept persuading.
That was his expertise. Sales channels already planned.