Chapter 58: Taking a short break (3)

Chapter 58: Taking a short
break (3)

Hendrik,
an apprentice at Zirnier’s Workshop, the premier weapons shop in
the Labyrinth City, frowned at the beggar in front of him.

An
old, shabby, raw-looking Great Helm, wearing a tight black T-shirt
like he couldn’t even afford to wear clothes that fit his size.

‘⋯There’s
no way there are men’s clothes that fit a body like that⋯’

Hendrick’s
eyes never left the man’s body, which was filled with hideous
muscles.

It
would be more accurate to say that he deliberately avoided it.

The
reason was obvious. Inferiority complex.

Every
time he saw a body that looked strong at first glance, he felt an
instinctive sense of defeat and humiliation as a male.

He’s
fucking tall. At least two meters.

Hendrik
tried a common escape method that many people use.

Instead
of seeing the good in others, he rolled his eyes, scanning the man as
if trying to find flaws somehow.

Raw
skin, scars, calluses, a lack of wealth, and clothing that was
obvious from a mile away.

A
sleekly designed axe could be seen at his waist, but he was no more
than a lowly explorer.

Conclusion.
The man in front of him is a low-level explorer.

That
made it even more ridiculous.

“What
did you just say?”

“I’m
here to see Ms. Zirnier.”

The
helmeted man said confidently. He didn’t seem to realize how crazy he
sounded.

Several
of the explorers who had been sneaking glances at him since he
entered the armory also looked at him in disbelief.

“No,
you, ha⋯”

Hendrik
was at a loss for words.

‘We
often have guests of this nature. Mostly nobility, snot-nosed
professors with distinguished papers, and big money lenders who make
the Labyrinth City’s commerce crinkle.’

Hundreds
of servants and slaves at the snap of a finger, dozens of blacksmiths
at the beck and call of a single one.

‘They’re
all broken.’

By
the hammer of Zirnier.

In
the workshop of the continent’s only maker of relic-quality
artifacts, even the most powerful have been reduced to mere guests.

What
confidence did this man have to ask to meet with Zirnier, even in
such high places?

Hendrik
felt a little sorry for the foolish man who didn’t even know his own
limits.

So,
he decided to take matters into his own hands and make him realize
his predicament.

“Sir.
Please take a look around.”

The
helmeted man complied. He took a quick look around and then looked
back at Hendrik.

“Do
you sense anything, sir?”

A
glance around the room revealed lavish interiors, refined armor that
had reached a state of art, and people gazing admiringly at the armor
on display.

All
of them are either dignitaries dressed in extravagant luxuries or
mid- to high-level explorers with different equipment.

This
is because being a mid-level explorer is the minimum requirement to
have the means and skill to obtain a Zirnier armor.

However,
the man in front of him, even with the best of intentions, was only a
low to mid-level explorer.

“I
like the armor you’re wearing. I want one of those.”

“Yes.
You see?”

The
quality of the armor is different. Look at you. You don’t belong
here. You’re not fit for this place.

He
turned it around, but that’s what he meant.

“What
do you know, I’m just here because Ms. Zirnier asked me to come
here.”

The
man repeated the same words. He didn’t understand the meaning behind
the words. Perhaps he’s not thinking straight.

After
a moment of mild irritation at the man’s tone, Hendrik sighed
inwardly and turned to shoo away the man who didn’t fit the weapon
shop’s description.

“Sir.
This is not the place for guests!”

Ugh!

At
that moment, a gust of wind mixed with a tremendous amount of heat
came from behind Hendrik.

It
was a common occurrence. When the door to the Zirnier workshop
opened, in the basement of the weapon shop, such an explosion of
energy was released.

The
overwhelming energy knocked Hendrik off-center and he rolled
unceremoniously on the floor.

“Ohhhh.
Finally, finally, the Zirnier is coming out!”

“I’ve
been waiting half a year to customize one, this time for sure!”

Everyone’s
faces lit up with competition.

They
had all waited at least half a year to ‘ask’ Zirnier to customize
their armor.

It
was up to Zirnier to decide whether or not to make the armor, and
there was a good chance the order would be canceled, but her armor
was worth the long wait.

Greedy
eyes turned to the stairs leading down to the workshop.

Soon,
there would be the one they all waited for.

-Tuck!
Tuck!

The
sharp-eyed observers shook their heads at the light footsteps.

No
wonder. It wasn’t footsteps at all.

Chirp.

It
was an arm, a clunky, mechanical-scented arm, with a hint of the
arm’s form.

The
mechanical arm came up the stairs, palm to the floor, jumping
eagerly.

“⋯What
is this?”

“Where’s
Zirnier and what’s that?”

The
mechanical arm kept jumping, heading somewhere, amidst the questions
and attention.

Hendrik
gaped, dumbfounded.

The
mechanical arm stopped in front of the helmeted man.

It
leaped once more, changing the position of its palm and forearm.

-Kirik.
Kirik.

A
finger snapped, pointing underground.

“You
want me to follow you?”

-Kirik.

His
thumb and index finger curled into a circle, an okay sign.

“Okay.”

It
jumped up, grabbed the helmeted man’s arm, and started dragging him
away.

The
man followed the direction of the arm’s pull.

Hendrik
and the rest of the staff and people in the armory stared at the
scene but neither the helmeted man nor the mechanical arm paid them
the slightest attention.

***

Down
a flight of stairs, through a massive door, and past dozens of
security measures, I reached Zirnier’s workshop.

-Bang!
Bang!

As
soon as I entered, I heard the distant sound of iron pounding.

My
senses, including my hearing, told me that I had stepped into a place
that was completely different from the usual.

I
breathed without thinking, but my chest felt strangely tight. I
wondered if this was what it felt like to have ripening lungs.

My
nostrils, throat, and respiratory tract felt like they were being
cooked like dumplings.

I
hadn’t even walked a few steps before I was drenched in sweat.

It’s
so hot and humid that my head feels dizzy. I could be dropped in the
middle of the desert and still feel cold.

-Chirp,
chirp, chirp.

The
arm kept moving, guiding me. Where are we going, it’s getting hotter
by the minute.

-Ka-ang!

But
the sound of the iron pounding got closer and closer. It’s hot, but I
hang in there.

I
pushed forward through the heat and steam.

After
about ten minutes of walking, I reached the center of the workshop.

‘Somehow,
the basement is frighteningly large.’

The
first thing I saw was an enormous furnace, almost the size of a
four-story building.

-Boom!

In
the center of the furnace, in the hottest part, where the red molten
iron was flowing, a woman was swinging a hammer.

Her
tight blonde hair bounced with each blow, and her breasts, wrapped
tightly in white bandages, jiggled.

Diana,
Idelbert, Zirnier, and the other top explorers all had poor fashion
sense.

My
mouth dropped open when I saw Idelbert’s leotard, but even she hid a
great deal of fashion under her cloak.

The
sparks splattered against his tanned skin, but Zirnier continued
hammering as if he felt no pain.

-Ka-ang!

“Whoosh!”

Zirnier
let out a harsh breath as she slammed the hammer against the gleaming
steel on the anvil.

-Pow,
pow, pow.

The
mechanical hand that held my arm snapped off.

I
grabbed the dwarven ale and towel lying around and brought them to
Zirnier.

“Well
done Number One.”

-Squeak,
squeak, squeak.

The
mechanical arm she called Number One waved happily at Zirnier’s
praise.

Zirnier,
wearing a mask that covered his entire face, wiped the sweat from his
face and gulped down alcohol.

The
mask was more curious than the way she gulped down the alcohol like
it was water. How is that possible when there’s no mouth hole or
anything?

Zirnier
sat on the anvil, a white towel roughly wrapped around her neck, and
looked at me.

I
couldn’t see her face behind the mask, but I could tell by the way
she tilted her head that she was puzzled.

Finally,
Zirnier’s mouth opened.

“What
the hell. Who are you?”

“⋯?”

⋯After
that last time, I seriously suspect she has dementia.

***

“Ah.
You’re the one, hiya. It’s been months and you’ve grown so much, I
almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Yeah.”

-Gulp.
Gulp.

Zirnier
looked at me, wiping the corner of her mouth, probably under her
mask⋯.

“Hiccup.
Hmph. Actually, I was just messing with you, you don’t think I’d
recognize the guy who bought my first piece?”

“⋯⋯”

I
honestly thought she didn’t recognize me.

I
remembered the last time I was held captive for hours in this woman’s
endless drinking hell.

I
wondered if her memory had deteriorated from drinking such strong
alcohol like water while working.

If
I let it out of my mouth, there would be no turning back, I thought.

“I
thought you completely forgot, because you were saying such strange
things.”

“Yeah,
well, having a crazy guy in the store is a good way to keep customers
away.”

“⋯For
keeping customers away?”

It
was an odd thing to hear coming from a blacksmith who owned a weapons
shop. What kind of owner would actually repel customers?

“If
I get customers, I’ll have to make something boring again. I’d rather
make something I’m not good at.”

Zirnier
sat cross-legged and stared at me, cracking open a bottle of wine,
and there was something about her that gave me a strange sense of
security.

“I
said I’d make you something, but if you pick something bland and
boring, it won’t be fun.”

Something
bland and boring.

I
remembered Zirnier complaining about the romance of weapons,
something I heard over and over again at the bar.

She
had her own standards, having spent over a decade making only the
weapons that people wanted and that she herself didn’t want, in order
to reach the top.”

Efficiency-obsessed
tryhards, led by swords, knives, spears, and rapiers or idiotic
romantic suckers, led by axes, clubs, and gauntlets.

Fortunately
or unfortunately, my tastes are likely to be quite off-putting to
Zirnier.

I
explained to Zirnier what I wanted in a weapon.

At
first she listened with boredom, but then her expression hardened.

“⋯⋯Really,
you want me to do that?”

“Yes.
What do you think?”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯”

As
soon as she heard my explanation, Zirnier’s hands started to shake.

-Gulp.
Gulp.

She
gulped down the entire bottle of dwarven brew.

When
she couldn’t stop herself, she summoned a No. 1 and threw it into the
air.

Crazy
drunk.

No.
1 bounced off the ceiling and landed softly next to Zirnier. In their
hands, they both had hammers.

”
⋯
Romantic pass!”

With
that, Zirnier abandoned all pretense of boredom and stood in front of
the furnace.

“I
knew you were discerning when you picked my helm, but I didn’t
realize you were this romance-crazed.”

She
lifted the gleaming steel she’d been pounding vigorously until I
arrived, something that didn’t look like much at first glance.

“It’s
the sincerity of your romance.”

No.
1 swung the hammer around excitedly, and Zirnier looked at me with a
smirk.

“I’ll
make you an awesome sex partner.”

Seeing
her so excited, it seems even Zirnier can’t resist a dual-axe
barbarian warrior…

‘⋯What?’

Why
the fuck would you make that?

The
misunderstanding would be cleared up later.

Zirnier
said she heard a bizarre theory from Idelbert that combat = competing
with an opponent while sweating = essentially no different from sex.

As
expected, I thought it was a crazy idea befitting someone cursed with
the ‘rejection of inferior genitals’ curse.

‘Wait,
does that mean I’ve been having sex with Master all this time?’

My
hands and feet shook with frustration.