The Ironworks
The decision came quickly.
The problem was everything that followed.
I was eight years old.
No money. No materials. Nowhere to work. Worst of all, without my parents’ permission I could barely leave the neighborhood stationery shop, let alone go any farther. In my previous life I had walked freely through the royal treasury. Now I had to announce who I was going with just to visit the playground. Reincarnation, it turned out, came with more inconveniences than I had expected.
“Ihyeon, what are you looking at?”
Mother’s voice came from behind me. I hurriedly covered the tablet screen. On it floated a used industrial furnace. The price started with one, then ten, then a hundred, then a thousand. I counted the digits and quietly closed the window.
Good furnaces had been expensive in my past life too. Apparently a blacksmith’s wallet stayed light no matter which world you were in.
“Is there something you want?”
“A furnace.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Even a moment’s thought made it obvious. If an eight-year-old asked for a furnace, an anvil, and a lathe, what would her parents actually buy? Not real equipment. Almost certainly a brightly colored plastic toy tool set complete with a hammer that beeped when you pressed it. I briefly pictured the scene: a pink toolbox, a squeaking hammer, a smiling nail-shaped doll. Just imagining it felt like something essential to a craftsman was being scraped away.
I gave up on telling my parents. I needed another way.
A place. Tools. And someone who would not dismiss my words as a child’s game.
One place came to mind.
Grandfather’s ironworks.
Until a few years ago Grandfather had run a small ironworks. It was a shabby building stuck on the border between the residential streets and the factory district. A faded sign hung above the shutter; inside, lathes, welders, cutters and the rest of the equipment still remained. After he injured his back he had stopped working, but he never sold the place. I had heard he sometimes went alone just to wipe down the machines.
There, I could begin.
The problem was persuading Grandfather.
I stood in front of the mirror. Dark brown hair. Black eyes. From every angle, an ordinary eight-year-old girl. Grandfather was weak to this granddaughter. Extremely weak. He bought me snacks I never asked for and slipped me pocket money behind Mother’s back. If I used that properly, I might be able to get the ironworks.
I knew the method.
Aegyo.
“…….”
I hadn’t even spoken the word aloud and already I felt mortified. In my previous life I had never bowed my head even before the king. I had returned commissions from the most finicky dragons on the continent if they failed to please me. And now I was supposed to act cute—for an old man who, by my past-life standards, was still a junior.
By this body’s age he was an old man. By my previous age he was a much younger junior. The feeling was complicated. But there was no other way. A true craftsman must know when to swallow pride for the sake of good work. Probably.
Fortunately Grandfather was visiting our house that day.
“Grandpa.”
I sidled up beside him on the sofa.
“What is it, my little puppy?”
Normally I would have protested that I was not a puppy. Today I held my tongue. I took hold of his sleeve and gave it a little shake.
“I have a favor to ask.”
My voice came out roughly twice as high as I had intended. I wanted to die. I had already died once; I was fairly sure a second time would not feel any more familiar.
“A favor? From our Ihyeon?”
Grandfather’s face melted instantly. The effect was certain. It only made me feel more wretched.
“Can I play at the ironworks?”
“The ironworks?”
“Yeah. I like looking at tools and equipment.”
I opened my eyes as wide as they would go and even puffed my cheeks a little. If my former disciples had seen this, they would have used it as drinking-party material for the rest of their lives. Thankfully they were all in another world.
“Please?”
For the finishing touch I tilted my head. Grandfather could not hold out.
“Aigoo, my little puppy. You wanted to see the ironworks that badly?”
He laughed and stroked my hair.
“Of course you can. Let’s go together with Grandpa.”
Success.
It was the most humiliating negotiation of my entire career as a craftsman.
When the weekend arrived Grandfather rolled up the ironworks shutter. With a metallic rattle the interior was revealed: the smell of oil, dust mixed with metal filings, the cool scent peculiar to machines left unused for a long time. It was not a nostalgic smell. Everything was different from the forge of my previous life. Yet my heart still beat a little faster.
“Our Ihyeon has to wear this first.”
Grandfather set a hard hat on my head. It was far too big and slid down over my eyes. He took it off again and offered work goggles instead. Those were oversized too. Only after I shortened the rubber strap as far as it would go could I keep them on my face.
“Aigoo, even these are big on my granddaughter.”
He checked several times that the goggles would not slip.
“Ihyeon, the machines here are dangerous. If you want to touch anything, you tell Grandpa first. Understood?”
“Okay.”
“No pressing buttons by yourself either.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go near anything that makes sparks. If my little puppy gets hurt, Grandpa’s heart will break.”
“I know.”
“And for now we’ll hold the hammer together.”
I closed my mouth. That last condition I had not expected. Grandfather narrowed his eyes at my reaction.
“Our Ihyeon… did you want to try hammering too?”
“A little.”
“That’s still a bit dangerous.”
The answer came quickly. I looked around the ironworks. There was a lathe. There was a cutter. The welder and the press were still there. More tools than I had expected. But every single one had its power cord unplugged. Grandfather had already thrown the main breaker so I could not hurt myself.
I had obtained the ironworks. I had not obtained permission to use it. The world always betrays you in the fine print of the contract.
“Today let’s just watch from Grandpa’s side. I’ll show you lots of interesting things.”
“……Okay.”
I nodded obediently. Ten minutes later I tugged at the hem of his work clothes.
“Grandpa.”
“Are you about to bring up the hammer again?”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“It’s written all over my little puppy’s face.”
He was right. People who had raised a child once really were different.
“Just once.”
“If those tiny hands get hurt, Grandpa will be sad.”
“I’ll really only try once.”
Grandfather shook his head. I did not back down. After a long tussle I finally extracted one condition.
“Then can our Ihyeon explain to Grandpa what she wants to make?”
he said. “If it isn’t dangerous, Grandpa will help you do it together.”
Now that permission was actually possible, I felt at a loss where to begin. A divine sword was out of the question; even an ordinary blade was impossible right now. I could not use fire. I could not use the machines. I had never even seen materials that came from the Tower. In the end I decided to test the simplest thing first.
I spread paper on the workbench and drew a palm-sized square. Inside it I inscribed a single simple mana circuit—one that, if it worked properly, would emit a faint light. In my previous life it was the level of work apprentices learned first.
“I want to carve this pattern into a thin copper plate.”
Grandfather turned the paper this way and that.
“What does this pretty pattern do?”
“There’s something I want to check.”
“Nothing that could hurt your hands?”
“I just need to cut lines into the copper plate.”
It was not a lie. I simply omitted the part where the lines might start to glow.
Grandfather looked from the paper to me and back again. For an eight-year-old’s scribble the pattern was far too precise, but it did not look dangerous. I took the paper back and asked once more.
“Can I try just once?”
He thought for a while. Then he brought a thin copper plate and a palm-sized engraving chisel from the corner of the workbench. Not a hammer-driven punch—something you pushed by hand to cut fine lines into metal.
“Our Ihyeon, if this slips it can cut your hand.”
He fitted a leather pad over my palm.
“Grandpa will watch right beside you the whole time. If it hurts even a little, you tell me right away. Promise?”
“Promise.”
I wrapped my small hand around the rounded handle of the chisel. Blade laid low. Thumb guiding the direction. Push with steady force from the shoulder. The posture was familiar. The body had shrunk, but the skill remained.
I set the tip against the copper plate and slowly applied pressure.
“…….”
The chisel did not move. When I pushed a little harder my palm hurt first. My fingers could not grip the handle firmly enough. When I forced more strength into it the tip skidded sideways. Grandfather instantly caught my hand.
“Aigoo, slowly. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I can do it.”
I reset the blade. This time I locked my wrist and pushed with my whole body.
Screee.
A faint scratch appeared on the copper. It was too pathetic to call the first line of a mana circuit. I pushed again. My hand trembled. I knew the posture. I knew where to put the force and at what angle to lay the blade. But my hands had neither the strength to drive the chisel nor the grip to control the edge.
On the third slip Grandfather carefully took the tool from me.
“Aigoo, look how red your hand is. Our Ihyeon, that’s enough for today.”
“Just a little more.”
“I know you’re impatient, but if you get hurt you won’t be able to do it next time either.”
He gently rubbed my palm.
“When you grow a little bigger Grandpa will teach you properly. Until then we’ll do it together.”
I closed my mouth. In my previous life these hands had carved whatever lines I wanted even into steel. Now they struggled to scratch a thin copper plate. Memory alone could not work metal. Skill without a body that could follow it was useless.
Still, there was something I needed to confirm. I folded my pride one more time. Today really was a day for folding it a lot.
“Can Grandpa do it for me?”
“This?”
“Yeah. Just cut exactly along the lines without going outside.”
Grandfather examined the pattern I had drawn again.
“If our Ihyeon is asking, of course Grandpa will do it.”
He took the chisel. A thin metallic sound continued across the copper plate. His hands moved slowly but steadily. One by one the grooves followed the lines I had drawn. The final line locked into place.
The completed circuit began to draw ambient mana. A faint blue light bloomed on the copper plate.
Grandfather’s hands stopped.
“Ihyeon.”
“Yeah.”
“Why is this glowing?”
“I wonder?”
I tilted my head as if I had no idea.
“Don’t give me ‘I wonder.’ You drew this.”
He peered at the plate, looked up at the fluorescent light, then back down at the plate. In the meantime I held back a smile.
It worked.
My previous life’s techniques functioned in this world as well—without an Awakened’s mana, using only the mana in the air.
Now the only thing lacking was my body.
When I grow up.
Words that could mean waiting years I could not yet count. Until then Cheongrye 7 would keep being treated as a divine sword. I hated that.
I looked down at my reddened palm. Strength was insufficient. Then I would simply create the strength first. If I lacked the power to push a chisel or lift a hammer, I would make equipment that supplied that power for me.
I took out a fresh sheet of paper and laid my hand on it, tracing the outline. On the back of the hand, circuits to amplify force. At the finger joints, metal articulations to assist movement. A small work glove that mixed the magic tools of my previous life with modern machinery.
A mana-powered strength-assist glove.
The first piece of equipment I would make in this world.