The Legendary Lead-Silver Separation Method
“What? Go outside? What do you mean...?”
“No time to explain—everyone out! Now!”
But despite my barking orders, the people inside the smelter just blinked at me in confusion.
“That's an order! Get out of here right now! Walter!”
Shing—
“Wh-whoa! O-okay, we're going!”
“Hey, let's just get out first.”
The workers finally started filing out only after Walter drew his sword. Everyone except one person: Foreman Digger.
“What the hell are you doing? You think the Lord's words are a joke?”
“C-Count, sir! I don't know what's going on, but the furnace fire must never go out! We've got silver smelting right now! This smelter is my life!”
'You'll die if you stay, you idiot.'
Digger must have been holed up in the mines, too far from the news, because he had no clue about the dangers of mercury—the stuff we'd been using to treat dungeon plague patients lately.
And as if to prove his stubbornness, the old man hooked a long, curved rod into the ring of the pot where mercury vapor was rising.
Whether it was life experience or miner instincts, Digger seemed to intuit that I'd cleared the workers out because of the mercury in that pot.
“I'll start with his arms.”
“Whoa! Hold on! No!”
If my loyal knight Walter stepped in, it'd be over quick. But that stubborn geezer would definitely be eating with one hand starting tomorrow.
“I'll handle it, Walter. Cover your mouth and nose with your hand and follow me. Don't breathe if you can help it.”
I'd momentarily forgotten how Walter was even more rigid than the mages when it came to his mindset. He was lenient only with me.
I pulled out the emergency vial I'd been carrying in my Subspace Pouch and approached Digger slowly, trying to reassure him.
“C-Count, sir... the furnace fire must never—”
“Walter, grab his arm. Gently!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah, no... not my arm... Aaaagh!”
Digger's scream wasn't from Walter. It was because I'd jabbed propofol straight into his vein.
“Wha... what's... thiiiis...”
He crumpled to the floor, consciousness fading.
Using anesthetic like this was absolutely not standard procedure, but better a quick nap than mercury poisoning.
'Nothing beats muscle memory with anesthesia.'
No other doctor could have done it. Scanning the vein in an instant and injecting propofol precisely was a feat even battle-hardened Doctors Without Borders couldn't pull off.
If someone from the modern world saw me, they might think using a brown bottle would be more fitting. You know, the chloroform from cartoons and movies—the stuff kidnappers soak rags in.
Chloroform, or trichloromethane, was an experimental solvent used before modern anesthetics. It saw some use as an anesthetic back then, but its carcinogenic properties killed that.
'Cartoons are just cartoons, though. One slip and it's eternal sleep.'
In those famous detective comics or films, the villain soaks a cloth and covers the victim's mouth—they flop a bit and drop like a sack. But I avoid chloroform not just for the cancer risk, but its deadly side effects like sudden cardiac arrest in patients with arrhythmias.
Plus, it evaporates fast, and knocking someone out takes a full five minutes. Ramen cooks in four.
“Huuuuh... my... head...”
He held out decently, but after about thirty seconds, the propofol spread through him, and his head lolled forward.
'No one beats the drugs.'
Digger's mercury amalgam method was brilliantly simple. Crush silver ore fine, mix with saltwater and mercury—the silver-mercury amalgam sinks. That's the same amalgam used in dental fillings!
Fish out the amalgam, heat it to evaporate the mercury, and you get 85% pure silver.
But those vapors were lethal. Native Americans forced into mercury amalgam silver refining rarely lived past thirty.
“Walter, take Digger out. Kellogg too.”
“Aren't you coming, Director?”
“Right behind you.”
“Hurry out.”
“We'll wait outside.”
As Walter hoisted the unconscious Digger over his shoulder and slipped out with Kellogg, I shoved a gold coin into Res's mouth.
“Mmph? What do I do, Maiiineer?”
“Freeze that pot in front and everything boiling here. Punch a hole in the wall for ventilation.”
Res gulped the gold and nodded. A blast of freezing cold shot from his mouth toward the massive mercury pot.
Crack—
Snap—
The steaming pot froze solid in seconds.
Boom!
Crash—
“Maiiineer, done?”
“Now use wind magic to suck all the smell out through the hole.”
“Oki!”
“Wait! Don't inhale—just blow it out. You can do that, right?”
“Aw, that's no fun. Fine.”
The brat always tried to show off with flair whenever he cast magic.
Whoooosh—!
The fierce wind whipped through the smelter, howling as it sucked the vapors out the wall hole. I kept my mouth covered and dragged Res out after it.
“What the hell happened...?”
“The smelter wall got smashed? Sounded like an explosion.”
“Shh, pipe down. Keep your mouths shut—didn't you see what happened to the old man?”
With Res on my shoulder, the workers gawked at me like flounder-eyed fish. Hilarious.
'They think I'm some spoiled noble now... works for me.'
I flashed a predatory grin and swept my gaze over them.
“I'll say this once, so listen up. No more using Digger's mercury smelting method from now on.”
“B-but... then production...”
“What's their problem?”
Sure enough, murmurs rose from the workers who'd fled outside and the miners who'd gathered. Two ex-adventurer types scowled fiercely, looking ready to charge.
“Walter, you know what to do.”
“That? Ah, yes. Understood.”
A beat late, Walter drew his sword. The bearded smelter guards, Ronald and Kenneth, angled their spears toward us—
Whoosh—
Like a kid doodling in dirt with a stick, Walter slashed horizontally, his blade wrapped in blue aura.
Kaboom!
Crackle-crackle!
A deep gash deep enough for a hand sliced across the ground, stretching endlessly.
“Wha-what in the... world...”
“A-aur... Aura? Sword Master!?”
Ronald and Kenneth went pale, dropping their spears. The other miners and workers flattened themselves to the dirt, begging.
Even as their attitudes flipped 180 degrees, Walter didn't blink, his face impassive.
“The Baron says he'll cleave in half anyone who keeps yapping. Cross the line if you dare.”
“M-mercy, Baron!”
“We won't say a word!”
“I've been quiet since birth!”
My heart pounded too. I'd felt it in the duel with Northern Duke Tolstoy, but Walter's raw power hit harder than any magic—reminding me this wasn't Earth.
'...I just said show them aura. Did he have to go this far...?'
I swallowed dryly and pressed on with a resolute expression.
“We're banning mercury smelting because it's extremely bad for your health. Back home, we used the exact same method once. Out of eight workers, seven died—only one survived. Mercury vapor especially is deadly.”
“N-no way... really?”
“Mercury? Why?”
Mercury is a liquid metal at room temp and doesn't absorb through the gut. But as vapor, it seeps through lung alveoli—fatality skyrockets.
From their reactions, they had zero clue.
I sighed deeply and launched into a lecture on mercury—specifically amalgam—dangers.
“Ugh... Traditional methods mean low output. We'd break even, but... I'm worried about shortages.”
Digger had woken from anesthesia, rubbing his temples as others helped him up.
I nodded. “I get it. Never planned to cut production anyway.”
“A smelting method better than mercury amalgam?”
“No, not that.”
“Huh? Then what...?”
Rightfully confused. No production cuts, but no better method either.
Silver has a long history alongside copper and gold, with tons of refining techniques. Modern Korea mostly uses the Moebius method—precipitating silver on stainless plates and scraping it off.
It needs solutions and setup, but with Kellogg's help, doable.
'But I don't wanna bother with unprofitable silver mines. Better to do a few more Botox or fillers.'
So, I'd gift them an ancient, healthy method from my ancestors' wisdom.
A technique with deep Joseon history and tradition.
“No need to worry about output. We'll lay rails in the tunnels for faster ore carts.”
“Rails and carts? I don't get it...”
“Not hand-pushed carts—special ones that glide on rails. Called mine carts.”
“No way... that's possible? Who'd make them...?”
Digger's eyes bulged. I smirked and clapped Kellogg's shoulder possessively.
“Heard of Hot Hammer? This dwarf smith is the prized disciple of Lonely Hammer—Hot Hammer himself.”
“Lonely Hammer!? I know that name!”
“The legendary smith from Breath of Fire? Passed down generations! His disciple?”
Kellogg muttered low enough for only me, “I'm not Hot Hammer anymore,” but I ignored him, locking eyes with the cheering miners.
“Hot Hammer Kellogg won't just make rails and carts—he'll reinforce tunnels so they don't collapse.”
Blank stares, so I explained H-beams—the miner term “dongbal”—for propping walls and ceilings.
I knew gold and silver mining inside out, of course.
“From Digger's explanation earlier, lots of time wasted dodging rockfalls. Steel dongbal props plus netting cuts risks, and rails speed up mining. All thanks to Hot Hammer Kellogg!”
“Woooah! Hot Hammer! My heart's burning!”
“Hot Hammer! Hot Hammer!”
“Kellogg! Kellogg!”
I raised a hand to quiet the chanting crowd.
Slower than mercury, but packed with tradition and ancestral wisdom—this was the moment to unveil the silver refining method.
“Now, let me teach you a new smelting technique. Not as fast as mercury amalgam, but harmless and better than your old traditional ways.”
To the wide-eyed miners, I grinned.
“The method I'm introducing is the lead-silver separation method.”
Also called the Dancheon silver refining method—a legendary technique born in Joseon but overlooked there. The lead-silver separation method was about to be reborn in this world.
In my silver mine.