Mage? Magic Engineer!-Chapter 108 - 105: Still Can’t Escape the Factory After Transmigrating
The bottom of the pit... is a factory job.
Even after Rorschach transmigrated to an Otherworld and became a Caster, he couldn’t escape the fate of a factory job.
But there were factory jobs, and then there were factory jobs. Working as an "assistant operating engineer" had meant grueling shifts that blurred day into night. It meant climbing dozens of meters up a distillation tower to shiver on a platform in the wind. It meant getting your pay docked for not tightening a valve enough, causing leaks, drips, and spills; for not memorizing every single safety regulation; for not holding the handrail on the stairs...
Now, however, Middle Level Mage Rorschach was assigned to the "Hercules" Alchemy Potion Workshop—a collaborative project between the Alchemy Department and its industry partners, set to begin production soon. His official title: "Supervisory and Management Commissioner for the Magic Guild and the Tower of Stars."
Hercules—the demigod hero symbolizing strength, courage, and perseverance. The name suggested that by drinking their "Energy Potion," you, too, could be like him.
"Welcome, welcome! You must be the new representative from the Tower of Stars?" The manager tasked with receiving him was already waiting at the factory gate.
As Rorschach stepped down from the carriage, he saw a short, plump man with his hair greased and slicked back. The man wore a vibrant orange-red coat with a ruffled collar more flamboyant than anything you’d see on a guest at the King’s banquet, while the jacket underneath was stretched taut over his protruding belly.
Two men stood behind him: one, frail-looking, was likely a secretary; the other, sturdy and fierce, was clearly a Bodyguard.
A chilly winter breeze greeted him as he alighted. Rorschach observed that the factory, for security purposes, was enclosed by a red brick wall topped with upturned, rusty spikes. It would probably be much less windy inside.
Rorschach looked at the manager, who was also sizing him up. This Mage had no beard and wasn’t balding; he looked even younger than the muddle-headed Apprentice from a few days prior. He wore a Mage Robe trimmed with purple, but the clothes underneath were very plain—the colors weren’t flashy, and the fabric wasn’t the currently fashionable corduroy.
’A Middle Tier Mage about the same age as my own son! What kind of person is he? An arrogant genius?’
"Rorschach, a student of Master Kano, representing the Guild and the Tower of Stars," Rorschach said, politely extending a hand.
The manager quickly shook it. "Pierre Nixingen, representative of the joint venture partners and the current head of this workshop. A pleasure, a pleasure! You’re unbelievably young. Both Master Snow and Mr. Pascal have mentioned you—the youngest Middle Level Mage in Valuva in recent years! I’ve long heard of your reputation, but I can’t help but be amazed seeing such a brilliant young talent in person."
’Can you please let go of my hand and let me inside? Don’t you feel how cold the wind is by the river?’ Since the factory needed water power, it was naturally built along the riverbank. Rorschach felt his face going stiff from the wind during this drawn-out flattery session.
He forced a smile. "You’re too kind, Mr. Nixingen. Shall we go inside?"
"Of course, of course. Just call me Pierre. Please, follow me. With your guidance, our humble workshop is truly graced. Our venture is sure to be a success." Although Rorschach returned the smile, Mr. Pierre’s sharp, experienced eyes could tell it was forced. His flattery hadn’t made the slightest impression. ’As expected of the youngest Middle Level Mage,’ Pierre thought. ’He has none of a young man’s temperament.’
’If I catch a cold because of this fatso, can I claim it as a workplace injury?’ The manager had no idea that Rorschach was currently pondering whether the Holy Kingdom had anything similar to the Empire’s Employer Insurance Law.
Just inside the gate was the storage area. Trailers and shuttle carts were parked under large tents, and a large stable was right next to them, making loading and unloading very convenient.
A little farther in was the semi-open production floor. A three-story-high frame of cast-iron arches was covered with waterproof canvas, sheltering the concentrator vats and mixing pots below from the elements. The ground was the same color as the dirt outside, but it was far more solid and level. Rorschach strongly suspected it was the handiwork of the Earth Shaping Skill.
Other factories that had begun construction around the same time were still in a state of bustling development, just like the ones Rorschach had seen from the viewing window at the Sky Port. Any facility as close to production as the "Hercules" Alchemy Potion Workshop could almost certainly be identified as a Magic Guild asset.
Magic was just that incredible.
Construction was a step ahead of everyone else, sales channels spanned the continent, and they enjoyed tax benefits in both the Holy Kingdom and Istani. These were the enormous advantages of the Magic Guild’s commercial enterprises. That was why Mr. Pierre had used his life savings and exhausted every means to get a connection to the Alchemy Department through an Apprentice. As the general manager, he was more than willing to flatter Rorschach Mage without a single complaint.
"This is our refining section," Pierre explained to Rorschach. "The original equipment is already installed. If we’re quick, we can do a test run this afternoon. The new equipment hasn’t fully arrived yet."
The production line, which had only been set up yesterday, was not yet in operation. A few workers were scattered about, playing Tarot. They were skilled laborers who had been with the production line back when it was still in the research building; they were slated to become foremen once the new employees arrived.
"Can you walk me through the refining process?" Rorschach hadn’t been one of the Alchemy Department guys in this life, but he knew this stuff from his past life. ’Oh, I know it all too well!’
"Th-this... this is my nephew. Let him explain." Manager Pierre only handled sales and management; he was completely clueless about these things. After all, the technology all came from the Alchemy Department. His nephew, on the other hand, was interested and had learned a few things from the old hands while working.
The frail-looking young man behind Manager Pierre stepped forward to explain to Rorschach.
"The main ingredient for Purple Potion is the juice of Cow Gall Grass, which is filtered after being extracted." He pointed to a machine at the far end of the covered area. It looked like an iron frame, fed from an opening at the top and discharged from the bottom after passing through a series of iron plates. Noticing the screw rods on the plate-like structure, Rorschach guessed it was some kind of plate-and-frame filter press.
"The filtered juice is concentrated in Vat One. A batch is cooled after its volume is reduced by one-third, then poured into the next vat and mixed with water that’s been boiled with mallow fruit. That’s when the color turns purple. The remaining steps are to let it sit and clarify, then bottle the clear liquid from the top layer."
Rorschach also asked a few follow-up questions about parameters like the temperature of the concentrator vat, all of which the young nephew answered correctly. Rorschach nodded. ’This kid has a knack for this business.’ "May I ask your name?"
"Antoine. My name is Antoine Nixingen." The young man felt as if he were being quizzed as he answered. ’This Mage is seeing this equipment for the first time on his very first day, yet he seems completely familiar with it, like a true expert. Could Uncle’s information be wrong? Is Rorschach Mage actually from the Alchemy Department?’
"Thank you for the explanation. Could you take me to the raw material processing workshop?"
"Of course. The pre-processing and bottling workshops are both fully enclosed buildings. Follow me." The workshop was a two-story red brick building, but a single one of its floors was as tall as two floors of a residential house.
’Rorschach Mage seems to really appreciate that boy.’ Pierre had been relegated to an attendant walking behind the two young men. He mused to himself, ’It’s a shame Antoine is too old; it’s too late for him to become a Magic Apprentice...’
Cow Gall Grass, also known by ancient peoples as "God’s Testicles," was discovered long ago to have properties that boosted energy and even acted as an aphrodisiac. It was a frequent guest in the pots of this world’s Alchemists.
One of the Alchemy Department’s secrets lay in how they watered these plants before they reached maturity. They used Alchemy Water infused with Spiritual Material, which caused the grass pods and stems to grow exceptionally large and burst with deep purple veins against their green skin.
In preparation for the afternoon test run, a team of workers was currently extracting the juice. The process reminded Rorschach of how rapeseed oil was extracted in his past life: they wrapped the cleaned and sorted grass in gauze, placed the bundles one by one into a trough, and stacked them with wooden planks layered in between.
Here, however, the pressing was done with water power. A thick screw rod was connected to a water wheel outside. At the foreman’s command, the pressing began. A sound that set one’s teeth on edge rang out, and a murky, brownish-green juice began to flow from the drainage channel.
The air filled with the smell of fresh grass and earth, along with another, indescribable odor.
Once the juicing was finished, Rorschach asked for one of the pressed cakes. He broke the dregs apart. The juice was indeed gone, but the smell from the residue was still very strong. "It seems like a lot of the active components are still left in the waste material."
"Yes, it is," Antoine said. "This Cow Gall Grass is getting more and more expensive. We were hoping to find a way to increase the raw material’s extraction rate."
’Kano sending me here is a real bargain for you guys. My fieldwork fee will definitely have to go up!’ An idea already forming, Rorschach couldn’t help but rub his hands together.
