Kim Hajun took in a deep breath and pushed open the doors to the smithy. A blast of hot air rushed past him, causing his cloak to flutter, nearly blowing the hood off of his head. Inside the smithy, several men and women were crowding around something off to the side. Whatever it was they were looking at, it was giving off a blood-red light that caused their skin to look as red as cooked lobsters. A familiar figure caught Kim Hajun’s eye: Pan. The blacksmith with a metal eyepatch on his face was staring at the same thing as the rest of the crowd. Unfortunately, most of their bodies were large, and Kim Hajun couldn’t get a good view of what they were looking at. None of them had even bothered to turn around despite the doors opening either.

Rather than interrupting them, Kim Hajun gently closed the doors behind himself before making his way over to the crowd. He stood on top of a bench to look over the shoulders of the blacksmiths, and lo and behold, he discovered the variable affecting Pan’s schedule. Tafel was standing with her palms held outwards, a blood-red imprint glowing on her forehead. Fire gushed from her hands in a straight line, landing on a piece of rock with bits of gold embedded inside of it. Although Kim Hajun wasn’t a blacksmith himself, he still knew something about the smelting process. Without a reducing agent and a flux, what was the point of heating up an impure ore with flames alone? Unless, she was processing mithril? But mithril wasn’t gold in color. Could it be…?

The rock gradually faded bit by bit as it was burned away. The golden nuggets within the ore showed signs of liquifying, the shiny surface becoming glossy and distorted. Gradually, they melted down, the golden liquid dripping into a crucible positioned underneath the ore. Despite the process taking several minutes, Kim Hajun and the surrounding blacksmiths didn’t say a word as the ore was stripped of its impurities, the final product ending up in the crucible below.

“Amazing,” one of the blacksmiths said, the word slipping out of his mouth.

“Unbelievable.”

“Without the use of any tools, just using her flames alone, she refined a piece of crude orichalcum,” Pan said. Sweat rolled from his forehead and over his metal eyepatch, the tiny droplets sizzling as they made contact with it.

“Alright, quit crowding around,” another blacksmith said and pushed his way out. “Damn, it’s hot.” His eyes widened upon seeing Kim Hajun. “Hey! Who are you? We’re closed!”

The blacksmiths turned their heads to look at Kim Hajun, who was dressed in a mask and cloak. No matter which angle they looked at him from, he was suspicious.

Tafel exhaled and closed her eyes, the imprint fading from her forehead. She wiped at her brow with her sleeves, soaking up the sweat. The heat didn’t bother her, but focusing her flames on a single point while continuously outputting them for several minutes was harder than it looked. Her eyes opened, and she blinked at the intruder. “Kim Hajun?”

“You know him?” one of the blacksmiths asked.

“Yes,” Tafel said and nodded. “What are you doing here? Did Auntie send you to pass on a message?”

A dark expression appeared on Kim Hajun’s face; luckily, he was wearing a mask, so no one could tell. He was Kim Hajun, someone specially chosen to save the tower, so why was he being treated as a mere messenger? Of course, there was no one he could complain to. “No,” Kim Hajun said. “I heard someone commenting it was odd all the blacksmiths were working overtime, so I came to check the situation out in case an accident had occurred.”

One of the blacksmiths snorted. “How could there be an accident with so many professionals around?”

“I see,” Kim Hajun said and nodded. “Since you’re all safe, it seems my worries were unfounded. In that case, I’ll be heading out now.” He bowed his head before making his way to the exit. A grimace appeared on his face as he stepped outside, the air almost freezing in comparison to the interior of the smithy. Pan’s personality was tricky to work around; asking the old man outright to help him craft some armor would backfire. If Kim Hajun wanted to get Pan to forge him a piece of gear, he needed to get on the smith’s good side and have the smith offer his services.

Kim Hajun’s brow furrowed underneath his mask, and he made his way over to the wooden tablet. Although it’d be tougher without Pan’s personally forged equipment, Kim Hajun could still complete some conflict missions between the towers. It’d take too long to get on Pan’s good side now that the old man’s first impression of him had been tainted by this incident. Even if the incident didn’t seem like much, the old man’s train of though was bound to lean towards suspicion if he encountered Kim Hajun again so quickly after their first meeting.

After Kim Hajun left the smithy, the blacksmiths turned their attentions back onto Tafel. The demon blinked and took a step back upon seeing the eagerness in their expressions. “It’s already past closing time,” Tafel said and cleared her throat. “I should head back.”

“Wait, wait,” one blacksmith said and took a black lump out of his root bracelet. “Can you refine this for me first? It’s crude mithril. With your talents, it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Once you’re done with his ore, can you take a look at mine?” another blacksmith asked. “It has a bunch of annoying impurities in it that interfere with regular smelting processes, but your way minimizes the damage.”

Tafel’s eye twitched. “No more!” she said as her horns glowed silver. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” A portal appeared in the air beside her, causing the blacksmiths to widen their eyes. Tafel gave them one last glance before walking through, and the blacksmiths exchanged looks with one another as the portal winked out of existence.