Chapter 59: The Miners of the Iron Mine (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 59: The Miners of the Iron Mine (1)
The master of the iron mine.
On the day Roman was scheduled to begin work after receiving Jacob's permission, the miners made no effort to hide their displeasure.
"I heard Dmitry's young master is starting work at the mine today."
"Roman Dmitry? Why?"
"Beats me. But one thing's for sure—he'll just put on a little show of working and then scurry off."
No one had a good thing to say about it.
It was only natural. Unless he actually planned to break his back doing real labor, Roman’s mere presence was a nuisance. He wasn't just some ordinary noble; he was the eldest son of the Dmitry family. How were they supposed to work comfortably with their lord's heir breathing down their necks? Anticipating the suffocating awkwardness, the miners voiced their complaints one after another.
Especially Morcan. The veteran miner reacted with outright hostility.
"Lord Romero has completely lost his touch. It's fine to train his son as the successor, but if he wanted to do that, he should have started years ago. Up until now, they've only cared about the blacksmiths while neglecting us miners. All three of Dmitry's successors learned how to strike iron at the forge from a young age, but not once did they step foot in the iron mine. If that isn't proof that Lord Romero discriminates against us, I don't know what is."
"Isn't that a bit of a stretch?"
"A stretch?! The iron mine is the very backbone of Dmitry, yet the forge gets all the glory! You can't deny that!"
Morcan had harbored this deep-seated resentment for a long time. Although Dmitry was renowned as a city of mining and its population was naturally dominated by miners, only the blacksmiths who processed the ore were treated with reverence. It wasn't that Baron Romero completely neglected the miners—he had cultivated a genuinely good working environment for them—but when it came to his successors, his bias was clear.
The iron mine and the forge.
Both were the roots of Dmitry. The decision to send the heirs exclusively to the forge sat bitterly with him.
"Roman Dmitry was probably dragged down here against his will, but I have no intention of treating him with kid gloves just because he's the young master. Keep this in mind, all of you. The value of our work is determined by our own pride. So don't just blindly bow your heads. Show Roman Dmitry exactly how grueling and brutal the work in the iron mine really is. Only then will our voices reach the top."
"Understood."
"Morcan is right. Let's show the young master what real work looks like."
Hendrick's prediction had been spot on. The stubborn men of the iron mine did not welcome Roman's presence in the slightest.
* * *
Early the next morning, Roman donned his work gear and headed to the iron mine.
There was no welcoming ceremony. The men were too busy yawning from a lack of sleep, lining up and strapping on their safety helmets with faces etched in fatigue. It was a typical morning at the mine. Soon, after loosening up with some light stretching, the men gathered to listen to Jacob, the master of the iron mine.
"Always keep this in mind. In the iron mine, safety is our first, second, and third priority. We came down into this mine today, swallowing our exhaustion, to earn a living. I will do my absolute utmost to ensure you return safely to your families, so I expect you to follow the rules to the letter."
"Yes, sir!"
"Understood!"
With the morning assembly over, the miners dispersed to their tasks. Roman assumed he would be mining iron ore alongside the others, but Jacob pulled him aside.
"Young Master, please follow the transport crew and help haul dirt and iron ore. I'm not giving you special treatment. We simply can't entrust the actual mining of ore to a beginner, so you'll be helping with the simple, labor-intensive tasks. It would be highly troublesome for us if you got hurt trying to overexert yourself just to prove a point to the others. So please, just work safely and carefully."
Clearly, Jacob wasn't thrilled to have Roman there either. Although he had eventually caved to Roman's persistent demands to work, he couldn't entirely hide his anxiety.
Roman obediently followed the instructions. Down here, just as Jacob had said, he was nothing more than a beginner.
Roman followed the crew deep into the shaft. After walking for quite some time, they finally reached their destination.
"Alright, move quickly."
"We'll have to bust our asses if we want to meet today's quota."
Screeech, creak.
The senior miners immediately began loading dirt and iron ore into the carts.
Roman silently pitched in. He stepped forward, shoveling dirt and iron ore, and once a cart was full, he hauled it outside. From then on, it was an endless repetition of simple, grueling labor. Those who had initially felt burdened by the Young Master's presence quickly shifted their focus back to their own tasks once they saw him silently dedicating himself to the grind.
The system is remarkably well-organized.
The City of Mining. That title was no empty boast.
The miners swiftly transported an endless stream of dirt and iron ore, seamlessly dividing the labor between those who loaded the carts and those who hauled them. Outside, another crew sorted the extracted materials and moved them to designated locations. The division of labor was crystal clear. Furthermore, as Roman observed the shafts while he worked, he noted that the safety measures were actually quite decent. Sturdy iron and wooden pillars were erected throughout the tunnels to prevent cave-ins, and iron rails were laid across the ground to guide the heavy carts.
Decades of time and sweat.
This mine was a place where the very layers of Dmitry's history had accumulated. Even as his body engaged in manual labor, Roman's mind was sharp, carefully organizing everything he saw and heard.
To carry out my future plans, I need to thoroughly understand this land I now inhabit. I need to know how the people of Dmitry live, exactly how much power the Dmitry family possesses, and what I can personally achieve here. Experiencing Dmitry's daily life from the ground up will undoubtedly become my foundation.
Experiencing life at the bottom. This was Roman's way. Others might not understand why a noble would willingly subject himself to this, but Roman knew this process was absolutely necessary.
He couldn't learn everything on the first day. As he sweated and hauled rock, the sun set before he knew it, bringing his first day at the iron mine to an end.
* * *
On his third day, Roman managed to get an explanation about the iron ore from one of the miners.
"The reason Dmitry-made steel is so highly sought after isn't just because of the masterful processing at the forge. The raw quality of the iron ore itself is top-tier. Anyone in the Cairo Kingdom immediately recognizes its value the moment they hear the name 'Dmitry.' Furthermore, Dmitry never trades raw iron ore. Every single chunk extracted from this mine is processed directly by Dmitry before it ever hits the market. Normally, a significant chunk of profit is lost during the distribution process of acquiring raw materials, but since Dmitry handles everything from mining to forging using the territory's own labor, the profit margins are astronomical. There's a reason your family is called a tycoon, Young Master."
The miner's voice brimmed with pride.
Roman already knew the gist of this. However, hearing it directly from a man working on the front lines made him realize that the sheer scale of the operation was likely far larger than he had initially imagined.
To handle both the sourcing of raw materials and the final distribution entirely within the territory... Add in the premium of top-tier ore processed by master blacksmiths, and Dmitry-made steel naturally commands an exorbitant price. They've operated this monopoly for decades. The wealth the Dmitry family has accumulated must be staggering. However, Dmitry's wealth is not my wealth. There is a strict limit to the funds I can access simply by being the eldest son. I need to find something I can claim for myself on this land.
It was just like his past life. Baek Joong-hyuk had used his status and background as the successor of the Demonic Cult as a stepping stone to cultivate his own absolute power, eventually ascending to the throne of the Heavenly Demon.
His approach now was no different.
Instead of just sitting back as the heir and waiting for scraps to fall from the table, he intended to actively carve out his own domain. That was precisely why he had come to the iron mine. The daily life of Dmitry would provide Roman with the answers he needed, and with those answers, he planned to forge his own independent power.
A power entirely separate from the family. Of course, ignoring such a massive foundation and struggling completely from scratch just for the sake of independence would be the height of foolishness. He would use what he could.
He still had many questions.
How large were the actual iron ore reserves?
What was the exact daily production volume?
Roman was just about to press the miner for more details, but Morcan, who happened to be passing by, made his displeasure known.
"Young Master. This is not a parlor for idle chatter. If you're here to work, then shut up and work. If you have no intention of working, then leave before you disrupt the others. We have a daily quota to meet."
"Ahem."
At Morcan's sharp rebuke, the miner who had been chatting with Roman coughed awkwardly and scurried away.
Clearly expecting Roman to flare up in aristocratic anger, Morcan glared at him with wide, defiant eyes, refusing to back down an inch.
However—
"My apologies. I will focus on the work."
Roman calmly took a step back.
Stunned by a reaction he hadn't anticipated in the slightest, Morcan couldn't take his eyes off Roman for quite a while as the young master wordlessly plunged back into his grueling labor.
* * *
A week had already passed since Roman started at the mine.
Sweating profusely day in and day out, Roman worked shoulder-to-shoulder with Dmitry's miners. In the process, he was able to observe and overhear many things.
Yet, it still wasn't enough.
In truth, his lingering questions could have been easily resolved through a few simple conversations, but none of the miners were willing to approach him.
Is this their version of hazing a newcomer?
From the very first day, Roman knew he was being deliberately ostracized.
The miners kept a wide berth, and even if he managed to exchange a few words with someone, another would quickly interrupt, just as Morcan had done. Roman didn't bother trying to figure out if this was standard hazing or if there was a deeper, more specific grudge at play. No matter how much they considered this mine their personal domain, they were still daring to ostracize the heir of Dmitry on Dmitry's own land. An issue like that couldn't be resolved through mere conversation anyway.
So, he simply endured it.
Since he was the one who had demanded to work here, Roman chose to keep his head down and pull his weight rather than stiffening his neck and throwing his weight around as the heir.
Prrrrt!
"Lunchtime! Everyone, head outside!"
The breaks were strictly timed. Having risen from a commoner background himself, Baron Romero intimately understood the hardships of manual laborers and strictly guaranteed their break and clock-out times. At the sharp trill of the whistle, the men dropped their tools and immediately flooded outside.
Roman did the same. Instead of having the luxurious meals he usually ate at the estate delivered to him, he sat right down on the dirt ground as if it were the most natural thing in the world, filling his stomach with dry bread and thin soup.
At first, the miners watched him with blatant curiosity. It was incredibly meager fare for a noble young master, yet Roman devoured it all without a single frown of distaste.
This is more than enough.
In his past life, Roman had endured far worse. During his training in the Demonic Cult, there was a brutal ordeal known as the Trial of the Hungry Ghost, which required surviving in the wilderness for an entire month without rations. During that hellish period, he had eaten anything that moved, making no distinction between venomous snakes and crawling insects.
Warm bread and soup? There was nothing better to satisfy his hunger. Roman steadily stuffed the food into his mouth, and before long, he was scraping the bottom of his bowl.
It was then. Just as he finished his meal, a large figure sat down heavily in the dirt across from him.
"Can I ask you something?"
It was none other than Morcan.
When Roman nodded, Morcan—who had spent the entire week glaring at him with undisguised discontent—asked a personal question for the very first time.
"I can see your sincerity now, Young Master. But why on earth are you working down here?"
Over the past week of grueling labor, Morcan had been forced to admit a simple truth: Roman Dmitry was an entirely different breed of man than he had thought.