WeTried Translations

Translator: [IncomeElastic]

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◈ I Became a Blacksmith the Rankers Are Obsessed With ◈

Chapter 020

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The Missing Bed

* * *

It's not the other stuff that's the dopamine.

This is dopamine.

A sort of escape act, staking my remaining five years of nighttime sleeping autonomy on it.

If I get caught, it's confinement.

- Creak.

I carefully gripped the already-repaired door handle and closed it.

The result was a success.

The only person I crossed paths with on the way was a servant mowing the lawn.

Even they were so focused on their own work they never glanced my way.

"......"

I looked around the workshop.

I'd never once lit a fire in this forge, and the pouch of enchant powder I'd used yesterday was still sitting on the workbench.

Beside it lay two hammers.

I did come to the workshop, sure.

But that was only because I'd sprinted over on a momentary wave of heat.

I looked down at my right hand.

"......Ugh."

Swollen up this badly.

It's true that doing anything is going to be hard.

Must be the child's body. It really is vulnerable to strain.

A frail excuse for a body, is what it is.

Still, no point worrying. There's plenty to do.

It's only swinging a hammer that'll be hard.

It seemed enough to operate our 30,000-gold forge.

I'd already absorbed most of the standard forge usage from the manuals.

The theory side, I've got down pat. That's the thing.

If that's the case......

Alright, so what is metallurgy.

Metallurgy is one giant act of perversion.

To put it simply.

You crush the ore, melt it, extract the metal, mix the metals into an alloy, cast an ingot, then heat and melt it to suit the situation and purpose, hammer and forge the heated ingot into shape, quench it to cool it down, and you're done.

On paper it looks fairly easy.

Actually, it doesn't seem like that difficult a process.

It's just that if you slip up, your hand gets grilled like a frankfurter.

What I realized here.

What is it that makes the Sun Dwarves' metallurgy a different class from everyone else's.

"This is fine dining."

The blacksmithing manuals I have number three in total.

The Forest Elves, the Frost Tribe, and the Sun Dwarves.

The first seemed specialized in delicate craftwork.

The middle one was outright specialized in mining.

As for the Sun Dwarves, the tenacity and obsession that goes into each and every step is no joke.

Those fine differences come together as one to create the value.

Just like fine dining.

Let's take an example.

Alright, let's start with the mineral itself.

Usually, melting ore requires a forge with some seriously intense heat.

The best thing would be a blast furnace, of course.

But this forge's model seemed to be about on the pseudo-blast-furnace level.

I didn't even know. I figured this thing could handle everything.

This forge can smelt ore, and it can melt ingots too, sure....

But the higher the step, the more you end up needing a blast furnace.

Actually, that's why eventually I'll have to ask Maman[1] to buy an additional blast furnace.

It'd feel a bit awkward to ask, so I'm also weighing selling the gloves and buying one with that money.

I tried to pick up an ore from the basket Dolores had stocked.

But then.

"......Huh?"

In the basket, instead of ore.

There were already-made ingots inside.

In other words, ones that had already skipped a whole series of steps.

"Hmm......"

I don't like this.

Because the Sun Dwarves' detail starts from melting the ore and making the ingot.

In fine-dining terms, it's like suddenly pulling out a frozen fish cake.

No matter how well you sear it or how good a sauce you make, a frozen fish cake is still a frozen fish cake.

Just as I'd done all sorts of things with leather, for the dwarves it starts right there.

Because an ingot is a thing whose quality varies enormously.

Melting the metal and letting it harden isn't the end of it.

Its grade depends on what's mixed in, how much, how evenly it's mixed, and how much impurity there is.

And on top of that, the ingot has to be made differently for each piece of gear.

Just as I was feeling disappointed on all kinds of fronts.

Something appeared before my eyes.

─────────────────

[Iron Ingot][Common]

─────────────────

[Composition]

[Iron][96.30%]

[Carbon][2.85%]

[Sulfur][0.42%]

[Phosphorus][0.28%]

[Stone Dust][0.15%]

─────────────────

[Quality]

[Homogeneity][C]

[Density][C]

─────────────────

[Assessment]

An industrially mass-produced ingot.

A typical budget ingot that only pushes up the iron content. Unsuitable for shaping.

─────────────────

So ingots can have their status viewed too, just like gear.

I guess that's only natural for a blacksmith?

Honestly, right now, rather than marveling at this new ability.

"Ah, this is annoying."

- Tap tap tap.

I tapped the ground with one foot, wearing a face full of complaints.

Can something like this really be called an ingot?

For the past week, I'd spent every single day reading only the manual packed with the Sun Dwarves' perverted ingots and the processes behind them.

In other words, I've done nothing but an enormous amount of imaginary metallurgy.

I've never once considered using a garbage-tier ingot like this.

Me? An ingot this crappy? Why?

I'm a Sun Dwarf.

Suddenly all the strength drains out of my arms.

The carbon ratio is too high, so it'll shatter if handled wrong.

And since impurities got drawn in while boosting the iron, the density is garbage too.

Ha......

Steam's rising off my forehead, but honestly I'd rather print a hundred +20 grind-fest chore gloves than use something like this.

I mean it.

For now, I decided to deny reality.

"From now on, you ain't an ingot. You're an ore."

I'll treat the ingot as if it were ore.

Honestly, from its perspective, being reborn would be for the best.

Let's start metallurgy image training, one step up from notebook metallurgy.

I tried some image training for lighting the forge.

I tossed in the charcoal sitting beside me.

Now, from here, you light the charcoal with some kindling.

Of course, I had no intention of actually lighting it.

"Ah~ shall I light it up~"

[Fwoooosh~]

Yuna took on the role of the forge for me.

Good.

Let's say the charcoal has caught fire.

When the inside has heated up a bit.

Right now.

- Swoosh....

I slowly pushed the ore (ingot) inside.

Lightly set the ore on top of the charcoal. Normally you'd break and crush the ore before putting it on, though.

Skip that process for now. Right now I'm learning how the forge operates.

Let's say the charcoal has caught.

The ore is sitting on top.

From here on, what I'm going to do is crank the heat up like crazy.

Charcoal fire on its own just eats the oxygen in the air. That's why it's hard to get it any hotter than a certain point.

So, that's when.

Right then, you push air into the charcoal fire. So the charcoal eats more oxygen.

So it blazes higher.

That's exactly what working the bellows is.

In the Sun Dwarves' manual, it's treated as a fairly easy process handled with the press of a single button.

This step is a total freebie.

"Heh heh."

But.

Where's the button.

"......"

Just as I was glancing around to check my surroundings.

There was a suspicious-looking iron foot pedal down below.

Like, shaped like a car's accelerator.

"......?"

No way.

It can't be.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I gave it a light press with my foot.

- Creeeeak....

God, this is brutally stiff.

It's so heavy I have to press it with my whole body's strength.

Tough for a thirteen-year-old baby.

Anyway, I pressed down harder with everything I had.

And then.

- Fwoooosh...!

The powder clinging to the charcoal's surface went flying.

Shit.

[FWOOSH!]

Fwoosh, it says?

Then that means the damn thing lit, doesn't it.

This is real bellows work?

"Hraaaagh!"

I stomped the pedal once more.

- Fwooooom!

[Fwoooooosh~~!]

Ah....

In my memory, bellows work was.

Press the W button and a sheep-looking character blows a cone of fire out of its mouth.

And when you strike with a hammer, it goes clang. That's the process.

"Haah......"

Exhausting.

I've only stomped it three times and all my strength's gone.

- Creeeak....

[Fwoosh]

- Creeak....

[Big bro, you're stepping on it way too much, the fire's spilling out]

"Thanks......"

[Awesome!!]

I wish the whole thing would just burn up.

After a few rounds of that bellows struggle.

My body went slack.

"Whoa...... is this for real."

Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I plopped down onto a chair.

There was one thing I'd overlooked.

The Sun Dwarves' technology is the latest thing within their worldview.

While the forges and such that the humans of the Outer Tower use are seriously outdated.

Should I grease it or something?

But it doesn't seem like something that'd be solved by that.

"......"

Suddenly an ominous thought crossed my mind.

I'm not going to have to make a dwarf-grade forge myself, right?

Please, no.

Though honestly, that kind of thing was my field.

Mechanical engineering......

Sweating buckets, I pushed my hair completely back.

I think I've got a rough idea of how to use the forge now.

Anyway, my whole series of processes is all for Dolores.

Of all her gear I'd observed so far, it was just Gorgonyu's White Gloves, that one thing.

I should start replacing the rest of her pieces too.

But judging by the state of things, metallurgy's going to need a bit more time.

Gloves are done.

"What's left is clothing......"

Shoes, pants, tops, stuff like that.

Or else.......

One thing rises to mind.

'Underwear.'

I closed my eyes.

Honestly, it's the most intuitive choice of all.

It stays on the body the longest.

It goes on first, against the skin.

And it probably wouldn't be hard to make either.

This is seriously something else.

"It's not like I can just strip her down......"

Based on what I've confirmed so far.

Unless I see her gear with my own eyes, the detailed info doesn't seem to come up.

As if proving that, her equipment window was dyed entirely black except for the glove slot.

Right, let's stay away from underwear for now.

Let's just skip that one. Let me find the next target.

I kept turning things over in my head.

Shoes, after all, wouldn't the best thing be shoes.......

"What is it you want to take off?"

"Starting with the feet......"

Uh.

My body froze completely.

Yuna, that wasn't you, was it?

Let's hold off on jokes like that within the family.

[......]

Don't do that.

Then who was I talking to.

While I stood there frozen stiff like a mouse before a cat, unable to do anything.

"The feet?"

Once more.

A voice came from behind me.

"......"

I slowly turned my head.

And there, perched on the wide-open window.

Dolores, leaning her upper body against the inner windowsill of the workshop, was looking at me.

Her smile was still gentle as ever.

I wonder just how long she'd been there.

When I was grumbling over the ingot?

Since I was stomping the pedal while swearing?

No, whatever. What does it matter.

Just now, I'd said I was going to strip it off.

I don't know about anything else, but it was a stroke of fortune that I hadn't mentioned the subject.

"Lionel~"

Dolores smoothly swung her body over the windowsill.

And slowly walked toward me.

"What is it you're going to take off?"

She gently scooped me up in her arms, and with her free hand dabbed my forehead with a handkerchief.

Lifted about a meter and a half off the ground, escape was now a lost cause.

"The, the feet...... take off......"

"Whose feet?"

"......"

Alright.

There are two options.

Lie, get caught by her ability, and spit out the truth.

Or just spit out the truth obediently.

Since it's going to end up as the latter anyway, the former is just a losing move.

"D-D-D-Dolores......"

In the end, I told the truth.

Dolores, keeping her smile, wiped the sweat from my forehead.

I wonder what's going to happen.

Just as I was tensing up.

She, who had been calmly gazing at my face, then......

- Mwah.

Planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Lionel, how can you be this diligent......"

She hugged me.

With a bewildered expression.

I let myself be held in her arms.

* * *

Dolores stealthily trailed behind Lionel.

When Lionel slipped out of the mansion and crossed the garden.

When he carefully opened the workshop door and went inside.

Dolores was following exactly ten steps behind, without making a single sound.

- Pitter-patter.

The little back glancing around at his surroundings, the way he scurried inside, was so cute.

She almost forgot, for a moment, why she'd come to catch him.

Once the workshop door closed.

Dolores, completely erasing her presence, went around to the back.

- Swoosh....

The open window at the back of the workshop.

Completely silencing her presence, she propped her upper body on the windowsill.

The inside was fully visible.

"......"

With his back turned, Lionel picked up an ingot from the basket.

"......Hmm."

Seemingly unhappy about something, he let out a sigh.

It looked like he was grumbling too.

'How cute.'

Dolores began jotting a note in her head.

'The ingots don't seem up to his standards. I'll have them replaced.'

Just then.

Lionel suddenly pointed a finger at the ingot.

"From now on, you ain't an ingot. You're an ore."

"......?"

He shouted it out in a rather fierce tone.

Then, suddenly humming a little tune, he tossed a few pieces of charcoal into the forge.

"Ah~ shall I light it up~"

He lifted the ingot and put it into the forge.

"......"

So, it seemed like he was practicing something.

What Dolores felt right then was something else entirely.

Lionel.

Was doing every single step carefully with only the opposite hand, not the hand she'd applied medicine to.

- Don't use this hand.

Since she'd told him not to, he really wasn't touching his injured hand at all.

But even though she'd told him not to.

Perhaps not feeling at ease, despite his body hurting, he'd come all the way out here and was working this hard.

Something welled up in Dolores's chest.

'Why does he work so hard......'

He could just rest, if he wanted.

And then.

Lionel stepped on the pedal.

- Creeeeak!

"Hnnnggh!"

- Creeeeak!

"Ghhhaaah!"

With a foot as small as a fist, he was pushing with all his might on a pedal that looked hopelessly oversized for him.

He was practicing operating the forge.

She wanted to go right over and work the pedal for him.

But given Lionel's nature as she'd seen it so far, he seemed to like standing on his own.

After stomping it several times in a row like that.

"Whoa...... is this for real."

His strength seemingly drained, Lionel slumped onto a chair and wiped off his sweat.

'Poor thing.'

It was pitiful.

The sight of him panting and wiping his forehead was pitiful.

Watching his little shoulders rise and fall, something swelled in Dolores's heart.

Just then.

"What's left is clothing......"

Lionel muttered something.

"It's not like I can just strip it all off......"

Strip, strip......

Clothing......?

Dolores's eyes flew wide open.

No way, so if all the things Lionel was doing right now were, perhaps......

She asked urgently.

"What is it you want to take off?"

"Starting with the feet......"

At the voice coming from somewhere, the child's body stiffened.

Not wanting to startle him, she quickly slipped inside.

"Lionel~"

Calling his name softly, gently.

"What is it you're going to take off?"

She immediately lifted Lionel up......

And wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"The, the feet...... take off......"

"Whose feet?"

"......"

Lionel squeezed his eyes shut and mulled it over......

Then slowly opened his mouth.

"D-D-D-Dolores......"

"......"

- Thump, thump.

The truth of the words that reached her ears was.

The truth.

Lionel had dragged his aching body all the way out to the workshop.

And what he was doing while sparing that aching body was crafting gear for Dolores.

How could a child even think of such a thing.

- Mwah.

Dolores kissed Lionel's forehead.

"Lionel, how can you be this diligent......"

Burying her face against his shoulder, she stroked his back.

She tried to say more, but the words wouldn't come.

Because something was caught in her throat.

Someone's blind goodwill.

Even if she received it, she'd never imagined it would come from a thirteen-year-old child.

She stroked Lionel's head again and again.

"Thank you......"

There was nothing she could do besides saying thank you.

"Ha ha......"

Reading the mood, Lionel wriggled in her arms.

Then.

"Um...... Dolores."

"Mm."

Lowering Lionel from her arms.

She met his eyes.

"Um, by any chance...... do you have any ore?"

"I do. I'll make sure to prepare some for you."

Lionel's body gave a start, and his expression brightened slightly.

'So this child finds happiness in things like this.'

Committing that expression to memory, Dolores smiled gently.

"By any chance...... do you have any lubricant......?"

"I do. I'll make sure to apply it for you."

"Hehe."

He's pleased again.

Dolores let out a short laugh.

A child who responds to such trivial things.

Her mind was already turning over what she'd prepare for him next.

Then Lionel carefully added one more thing.

"Um, since it's daytime now...... what you said earlier, it's fine, right?"

What she'd said earlier.

Ah.

"......"

Dolores looked at Lionel for a moment.

Then smiled gently.

"No."

Night or day.

Caught, so there's no getting out of it.

"A promise is a promise."

And having just seen that sight.

Dolores couldn't bear to let Lionel roam free. Even less so now.

"Pardon......?"

Lionel's face stiffened.

Dolores stroked Lionel's head once more.

"From today on, let's stay together."

"......"

That afternoon.

The bed in Lionel's room had vanished, off to who knows where.

Footnotes

[1] "Maman," from the French for "mom," is Lionel's own nickname for Dolores.

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