Ch.59Completion

Creeeeak…Creeeeak…

300 meters above, a technician was meticulously winding the spring and adjusting the clearances between mechanical parts, sweating profusely.

If someone were to ask whether it’s possible for a single technician to adjust such massive components, the answer would be that it’s being done because it’s possible.

And if asked why he’s adjusting those enormous parts ‘alone,’ the answer would be, ‘because it costs less money.’

Above all, this man was the only technician in all of Amurtat with such skills.

Clack! Clack! Thunk! Thunk!

“Done…!”

Having finally adjusted all the gaps, the technician wiped away the sweat coating his body with the towel around his neck, then began turning the clock hands to set the current time.

Whirr! Whirr!

The sight of massive pendulums being calibrated by a single person’s movements was always a mesmerizing spectacle.

People should rightfully pay homage to the beauty of steel and brass, contrasting with the natural beauty of humans.

At last, with the minute and second hands properly aligned, a majestic and beautiful sound began to resonate from the clock tower.

Boooong—!!

The clear, pure sound that felt like it could push eardrums with a plunger caused the technician to freeze for a moment and drop to his knees. Outside the clock tower, people waiting for the calibration momentarily lost themselves, staring at the tower as the magnificent sound reverberated.

Clunk! Clunk!

With the sound of the spring turning and the pendulum swinging up and down, the second hand began to move, and 9:01 AM in Amurtat began.

At last, Amurtat had its own clock tower.

*

Along with the cool autumn breeze that signaled the beginning of harvest season, the bell of the clock tower resonating throughout the city was like an orchestra bestowed by nature itself.

It was simply regrettable that humans were beings who damaged nature merely by existing, when something unintentionally created could be so beautiful.

“Finally, even Amurtat has a clock tower. Phew… it took quite a while.”

“Well, compared to other cities, it was actually built at an incredibly fast pace. We were able to source all materials within Amurtat itself.”

“That’s true.”

The reason we could build a 300-meter-tall stone and steel composite structure in just one year was entirely because we could procure all the materials and manpower ourselves.

Whether steel or stone, everything could be sourced from our Amurtat, and though somewhat ambiguous, we could also supply the workforce internally.

Other cities would have had to gather money from various sources or sell everything valuable to pay workers’ wages, and would have struggled to secure funds for materials. But Amurtat had reliable sources of income such as the steel industry and tourism, could easily gather resources, and was in a position to generously pay skilled workers.

“Establishing the Steelyard and pushing the steel industry was the right answer. Think about it. Could Amurtat have achieved this level of growth without the Steelyard?”

“Hmm… it would have been difficult.”

“Yes, if nothing else, we wouldn’t have had a way to finance it.”

That’s why I continue to express endless gratitude to the elves of Blumen Elphium.

If they hadn’t found the four-season ore vein for us, there would have been no Steelyard.

“By the way, I said to complete it within this year, but to actually finish it at the beginning of autumn—looks like I’ll have to pay out performance bonuses again.”

“With proper design and supervision, building a structure isn’t that difficult.”

No matter how luxurious and complex a building might be, it couldn’t escape the fundamental essence of construction: ‘stacking blocks.’

Once materials and manpower were secured, construction typically finished quickly unless political reasons were involved.

Some might think that 300 meters doesn’t seem very tall.

Since the blood of a 21st century Korean flows in my veins (metaphorically speaking), I might not fully appreciate it, but a clock tower of this height is essentially a cutting-edge skyscraper by this world’s standards.

Even by modern Earth’s 21st century standards, a 300-meter building would be a landmark in any provincial city if not a major metropolis. In this world, where tall buildings are typically three or five stories, a clock tower with a three-digit height is nothing short of a man-made mountain range.

And this mountain range has a clock embedded in it and rings a bell?

Well, it certainly deserves to be treated as a landmark.

*

“Who was it?”

Bonyard.

In this workshop where bone china was made, a chilling coldness flowed, driving back even the hot air from the kiln.

“I said, who was it?”

The reason was simple.

During the busy workshop operations, someone had failed to stack the firewood in the kiln properly, resulting in the burning logs collapsing as they contracted, breaking all the perfectly good pottery.

“Who the fuck was it?!!!”

Because of this, the master craftsmen were venting their anger, smashing pottery fragments that had become worthless, mixed with ashes and glaze.

Crash!

The ceramic fragments shattered with a loud noise, causing the apprentices to shrink back even more.

“Not coming forward? You’re not coming forward?! Do you think you can just get away with this?”

“Do you think you’re here on some field trip?! This pottery was for people far above our station! You think you can just mess up like this and slip away?!”

At the masters’ rebuke, the apprentices couldn’t raise their faces, but one hand went up above the bowed heads.

“It was me.”

And the masters didn’t miss that hand.

Tremble, tremble…

Standing before the masters with a shaking body was a young apprentice who had just turned 15.

Even though the age of adulthood in this world was lower, the masters knew that 15 was still just a child.

“It was you?”

“Y-yes… yes…”

A trembling voice. The reddened faces of the masters. And the other apprentices who couldn’t say a word.

The atmosphere was so oppressive that it would have been understandable if he had fainted foaming at the mouth, but since he was the cause of the incident, he couldn’t ask anyone for help.

Clatter.

The master picked up a large piece of broken, fused pottery.

If he were to slit the boy’s throat with it, blood would gush out immediately, leading to death, but fortunately, such a barbaric act would result in the same fate for the master.

So instead, the master chose a less barbaric method.

Crack!

Shatter!

“Aaaaargh!”

As the master struck the piece with full force toward the boy’s ear, the apprentice writhed on the floor in pain, and the other masters pushed him into the kiln still filled with smoldering ashes and pottery fragments, then closed the door.

They left just enough of a gap for air to pass through so he wouldn’t suffocate or be steamed to death, but maliciously ensured he couldn’t open it.

The kiln door was heavy, designed to contain tremendous heat, and a 15-year-old boy alone would never be able to open it.

“That little shit stays in there until tomorrow morning.”

One of the masters declared, and there was no objection.

Clap!

“Now! Let’s get back to work! Ignore that kiln!”

“Yes, sir!”

And so, the workers of Bonyard spontaneously created the essence of “collective ostracism” without anyone teaching them, and began making molds, pouring clay, and mixing glaze ingredients again to create bone china for their customers.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Seniors! I’m sorry! Please save me!! Seniors!!!”

A small, frail arm extended from the partially closed kiln door, desperately begging for help, but the other apprentices, concerned with their own survival, gritted their teeth and ignored the cries.

If they displeased the masters, their goal of becoming craftsmen themselves would vanish like foam.

No matter how insane and difficult it was, enduring with sheer grit was the fate of all apprentices in this world.

Whether blacksmiths, pottery craftsmen, or magicians—extreme violence and disregard for human rights were everyday occurrences.

What made it even worse was that all this wasn’t because the masters and teachers were evil.

It was simply because the concept of human rights didn’t exist.

The concept of people being ‘equal,’ the concept of being the same ‘person,’ the very notion of ‘inherent basic rights’—none of these existed in this world. So how did humanity manage to thrive while resisting the monsters, beasts, and demons that swarmed this world?

Superior intelligence?

Ridiculous. Humans couldn’t be smarter than vampires and dragons.

Strong bonds of kinship?

Absurd. The loyalty between humans was inferior to the camaraderie of goblins.

Courage to move forward without yielding?

If that determined which species would thrive, beasts would be ruling this world by now.

Then what led humanity to prosperity?

Still don’t understand?

It was the monarchs.

No matter how sturdy the walls built, they would crumble with one kick from giant demons. No matter how much one trained their body, it only meant more flesh for beasts to eat. No matter how well formations were arranged against evil, there were far more monsters in this world than humans.

Only monarchs could protect humanity, and this was why humans in this world were under their oppression.

Even living itself would be impossible without a monarch’s permission, so who could possibly cry out for ‘human rights’?

Civil revolution, bill of rights, separation of powers, protection of individual rights, gender equality—in this world, these were mere daydreams.

A monarch could survive alone if they chose to, but other humans could not.

The difference between those who could stand on their own and those who couldn’t sometimes created miserable disparities.