Chapter 8
The Genius Blacksmith Obsessed Over by Hunters Became Me
And so, they arrived at the flea market.
—Kid, something about this atmosphere feels off.
“Right? I think…”
As soon as he reached the venue, Kangcheol stood there speechless.
The first thing he felt was sheer overwhelming pressure.
The scale of the place far exceeded anything he’d imagined, leaving him completely stunned.
“Feels like we’re not gonna make any money here…”
A flea market doesn’t necessarily stay small forever.
Once enough things start getting attached to it, the size naturally balloons.
But the problem was that this one was far bigger than expected.
—When they said “come to the stadium,” they literally meant they rented the whole stadium? Kid, you really do live in a crazy world.
It was normally a baseball stadium.
And they had rented the entire thing out for the flea market.
“I-I think we should first figure out how this place even works.”
Leaving the luggage in the car, Kangcheol looked around.
—Oh, damn.
After wandering around for only three minutes, Kangcheol realized something.
He had been completely deceived by the title “flea market.”
Normally, when people hear “flea market,” they imagine some wide empty lot with shabby goods casually spread around however possible.
But somehow, everyone here had built actual walls and ceilings for their temporary booths.
For an event that only lasted a few days!
“And honestly, I can’t even call some of these guys ‘small fry’ out of politeness.”
Here and there were recognizable mid-sized companies mixed in like bulgogi toppings on a pizza.
There were even major businesses with crowds so huge you couldn’t see the signboards.
Other temporary shops had installed furnaces to offer re-heat treatment services, and some even offered thinning work—something Kangcheol had dismissed as impossible to do on-site.
—They practically moved entire companies here.
“…I’m confused too. I can’t make sense of this just by looking.”
Kangcheol unconsciously nodded at the notification window’s comment.
After looking around for a bit more, he headed toward the information booth.
“Excuse me, I have a question.”
“Please take a waiting ticket first.”
“…Right. Sorry.”
A waiting ticket… at a flea market information desk.
Grumbling under his breath, Kangcheol waited, then tried again five minutes later.
“Isn’t this way too big for a flea market? I’m a blacksmith, but I’m wondering if I came to the wrong event.”
“Haha, it’s a bit chaotic, isn’t it? Is this your first time? Or…”
“Ah, no. I came once with my father. Maybe four? Five years ago?”
“Ahh, then it must seem very different now. I think it changed around three years ago.”
The staff member launched into a lengthy explanation.
Before then, the participating blacksmiths had maintained order among themselves.
Even though it was a low-budget event, incompetent blacksmiths were pushed out, while troublesome hunters were refused service by the blacksmiths.
The blacksmith leading that self-regulation effort had tremendous influence and skill in the industry, so everyone followed him.
—Wait, this sounds kinda familiar…
But at some point, the forge leading that effort stopped participating in the flea market.
That happened three years ago.
After that, low-quality blacksmiths flooded in unchecked, and large companies began sending apprentice employees to participate.
Hunters followed the influx of blacksmiths, and the event’s scale exploded.
“It was called Kangcheol Workshop. A really famous place. When the owner disappeared, it even made the news. It was a huge deal.”
—Ohooo…
“Ah…”
It felt strange.
Even though he had attended with his father before, everything the staff member said sounded oddly unfamiliar.
“Oh! You said you’re a blacksmith, right? If you want to open a booth, I can help you register.”
Kangcheol quickly waved his hands.
It probably wouldn’t be wise to reveal the name “Kangcheol Workshop” here.
Even from the staff member’s expression, it was obvious she still regretted losing the role Kangcheol’s father had voluntarily taken on.
“Ah! No, no. I’m not doing anything serious—just sharpening. Honestly, before I got here, I thought I could just sit somewhere empty and do it.”
“Ahh, so you were thinking of the free-use zone. Haha. Here’s a map. We’re here, and this area is the free zone…”
The staff member repeatedly warned him that the free-use zone was especially chaotic and difficult to manage.
After chatting a bit more, Kangcheol walked away.
—So what now, kid?
The notification window urged him.
He had come to “check the situation,” but all his calculations had gone completely wrong.
At this scale, doing anything at the flea market seemed difficult.
“Man… I never imagined this.”
Then—
“Well, shit. Never thought I’d run into this kinda reunion.”
A rough voice stabbed into his ears.
No matter how generously one interpreted it, the tone wasn’t friendly.
“Absolutely fan-freakin’-tastic.”
Three pot-bellied men who screamed I’m a blacksmith swaggered toward him.
Kangcheol didn’t recognize any of them.
“Is that him?”
“Yep. Says Kangcheol Workshop on the car.”
“And who are you?”
The blacksmiths burst into snickering laughter.
It was obvious they were seeing Kangcheol for the first time too.
But their attitudes dripped with naked hostility.
The biggest one stepped forward and shoved Kangcheol in the chest.
“Us old men got a debt ta settle with yer daddy.”
“A debt?”
“Yup. Yer daddy did us real wrong. Real baaad bastard he was! So— WAAAGH!”
The big blacksmith couldn’t finish his sentence.
Kangcheol lightly pushed him once, and the man flew backward before collapsing in the distance.
“Do adults get some kinda license that lets them talk crap about other people’s fathers?”
“Well ain’t this brat got some nerve! Talkin’ back ta grown-ups!”
Another blacksmith with an especially huge belly swung a punch.
Normally, Kangcheol might’ve considered whether he could squeeze some “hospital money” out of this.
But—
‘…Slow.’
The punch looked so sluggish it seemed like getting hit would hurt his pride more than his body.
Kangcheol dodged several times in a row, and the man quickly became exhausted, wheezing heavily.
“Damn it!”
The last guy charged in.
In his hand was a long steel tong used for heat treatment.
“WAAAH! That’s dangerous! …Huh?”
Kangcheol made a huge fuss, but effortlessly grabbed the man’s arm and snatched away the tongs.
Then he felt something strange.
“…Weird.”
The tongs should’ve been made of iron, but they felt absurdly light.
Could this be some hidden-camera prank? Maybe the tongs were props and cameras were hidden nearby—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Kangcheol slammed the tongs against the ground, and they bent like soft candy.
“…These are props, right?”
Why’s everyone suddenly silent so ominously?
The notification window interrupted.
—Kid. You’re the strong one. I told you already—your physical ability won’t ever hold you back from working.
Kangcheol was shocked all over again.
So the tongs themselves were perfectly normal, and he had simply become monstrously strong?
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had to use strength like this before…’
—I told you, you’re a metallurgist! Back in my day, we personally mined and hauled iron ore too!
There wasn’t even a basic “Strength” stat in his status window, so he hadn’t realized how strong he’d become.
Apparently there was a huge difference between the system’s standards and modern people’s perceptions.
Kangcheol addressed the blacksmiths again.
“Ahem. Blacksmiths should speak through skill, shouldn’t they? What exactly are you doing? These are work tools, but they’re made so shoddily.”
—You’re the one who bent them, kid. Where’d your conscience go?
Did “shoddy” refer to the poor craftsmanship, or to the fact he’d bent them beyond use?
Realizing his words might sound threatening, Kangcheol scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“Anyway, let’s talk. If you run away or refuse, then… well…”
He tapped his car lightly.
At just the right angle, the dashcam gleamed meaningfully.
—Ooh, kid. You’re good at threatening people.
‘It’s not a threat. I just want to talk.’
—And you’re good at rationalizing too.
‘…’
While Kangcheol mentally argued with the notification window, the blacksmiths spiraled into panic among themselves.
“Lookit them snake eyes. Kid’s vicious.”
“Think he’s even worse than his old man?”
“What if he demands something crazy?”
“What d’ya mean what then? We run! Ya wanna get squeezed dry?”
The blacksmiths shook their heads.
Whether committing bad deeds or honest labor, they did everything for money.
Trying to smash someone with metal tongs aside, the idea of losing money was unimaginable to them.
The blacksmiths exchanged glances, nodded once, then shouted at Kangcheol.
“We can’t pay no settlement money!”
“We got kids ta feed too! We’d rather become servants than hand over cash!”
They spoke with genuine determination, but Kangcheol merely stared blankly.
“…What? I never once asked for settlement money.”
Now it was the blacksmiths who looked awkward.
“H-Huh?”
“I said let’s settle things. I never asked for money.”
The blacksmiths stared at each other, utterly confused.
To them, this made no sense.
They had ganged up on him and lost.
Objectively, they were in the weaker position.
Which also meant this was the perfect chance for him to extort enough money to skip work for several days.
Yet the brat in front of them didn’t seem interested in squeezing money out of them at all.
“Then what’s with the dashcam? You gonna report us?”
“I dunno. We haven’t settled things yet.”
Gulp.
A similar thought crossed all three men’s minds.
He’s a sucker.
If they handled this carefully, they could get out of it scot-free.
At least, that’s what they thought…
“You guys came here to do business, right?”
“Course. If we don’t make money, our wives’ll kick our asses.”
“And you reserved booths too?”
“Obviously. Gotta invest if ya wanna make money. We ain’t saying we got no cash—we already spent a lot.”
“Ahh, so you booked expensive booths.”
The blacksmiths nodded enthusiastically.
Even putting on pitiful expressions.
Kangcheol grinned brightly.
“Well then… let me share your booth.”
As if responding to his words, the dashcam light blinked ominously.
