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  As hearing something thudding, he was brushing the wooden floor carefully with a brush with its bristles widened apart. His arm was sore, tried to change position but did not find out a comfortable posture for his entire body being exhausted. A refreshing breeze ran against him and cooled the sweat on his forehead. That eased him slightly. He stop brushing and looked up. The sky was clear blue, bared a big white clouds around its lower part, seemed to stretch out however far. Familiar rustling sound surrounded him. And then, the familiar scent of the tide—it was the sea.

  He felt a small tremor beneath him and realized he was on a ship. Seagulls cried overhead, their voices piercing the air, yet somehow it still felt comforting.

  Suddenly, a strong impact struck his back, and he sprawled forward. He caught himself from falling, looked down, and began brushing the floor again without turning around.

  A man with a deep voice cursed at him and walked away. In the shadow cast by the man, he saw a thick, club-like stick in his hand. He realized that was what had struck him. A sharp ache flared along the side of his spine.

  Not far away, a few men burst out laughing. Still unable to lift his head, he dipped the brush into a bucket nearby and washed it. Black bubbles surfaced in the water. Then, without pause, he slammed the brush onto the floor again and scrubbed in a steady rhythm.

  No matter how refreshing the breeze was, no matter how beautiful the sky, he was not allowed to feel or enjoy them fully.

  In his field of view, there was only the floor—randomly placed wooden or metal boxes, large barrels, and upright pillars in neat rows. He scrubbed around every corner.

  Out of the corner of his eye, something green caught the sunlight and gleamed.

  It was a green gemstone, hanging from his neck beneath his shirt, momentarily visible through the loose neckline. He grasped it through the fabric, took a deep breath, and then let it go. As it touched his bare chest, he felt its coldness, which quickly warmed to match his body heat.

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  Outside the window, the sound of a whistle passed by. As the port drew nearer, the whistles of steamers could be heard everywhere. That was his favorite moment during work. Unlike train whistles, this one was deeper and stronger—so strong it felt like it pierced the core of his body. The sound filled his heart with excitement, and he always wanted to run to the window. But of course, that wasn’t allowed during work. He only stared from his spot, though the only thing he could actually see was the building across the street—not even a glimpse of a ship.

  His brother had once told him that the whistles were to prevent ships from colliding as they passed each other. The other workers didn’t seem to care; they kept their heads down and focused on their tasks. The bell would ring soon, and it would be time for lunch.

  Suddenly, a loud crash sliced through the air.

  “Watch where you’re going, idiot!”

  Bruno’s voice followed. Everyone in the workplace grew restless and turned their attention to the commotion. Ivy stood on tiptoe to see, but his view was blocked by the crowd. He could only hear Bruno continuing to curse in a shrill, angry voice.

  “This idiot was wandering around and bumped into me!”

  Bruno shouted at the group leader who had come over.

  “He’s always out of it. Creepy little kid.”

  Ivy realized he was talking about Leroux. Leroux always stared down at the tray in his hands while walking, so he must have walked into Bruno by accident.

  “Can’t you even say ‘I’m sorry’?”

  Bruno demanded, but Leroux’s reply couldn’t be heard. Whether the noise drowned it out or he had said nothing at all—Ivy guessed it was the latter.

  “That’s enough. Clean this up and get back to work. Mr. Bruno, please return to your station.”

  The department manager had come over after hearing the disturbance. His voice, as usual, was slow and flat. Bruno, calmed by the manager and the others, returned to his place reluctantly.

  “Damn it. Why don’t they just fire that idiot,” Bruno muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

  The curious onlookers, who had stopped working, finally turned back to their tasks. Ivy ran over to Leroux. The floor was a mess—shattered glass and pieces of trant everywhere. Leroux was picking up the fragments one by one with his bare hands. It would take forever that way, so Ivy went to the cleaning cupboard and grabbed a broom and dustpan.

  Leroux silently picked up a shard and placed it on the tray, his face expressionless. He was probably three or four years older than Ivy, but with his babyish features, he looked the same age—or even younger.

  “That could hurt you. I’ll sweep it up,” Ivy whispered in his ear.

  Leroux didn’t look up. He remained still until Oort patted him gently on the shoulder. Finally, he stepped back. Ivy quickly swept up the broken pieces and went to throw them away.

  “Hey.”

  Leroux stopped him by pulling his sleeve. He took a small piece of trant from the dustpan and slipped it into his pocket. Ivy hesitated. Taking anything from the workplace was strictly prohibited, but Leroux looked so determined that Ivy couldn’t bring himself to stop him. After all the trouble, Ivy didn’t want to scold him in front of the others. He let it go.

  Bruno was still muttering curses as he worked.

  During the lunch break, he took Leroux—who never seemed in a hurry—out to the canteen. As usual, they were the last ones there, and all they could get was the driest chicken. He watched Leroux’s face as he washed down the meat. He considered bringing up the trant in his pocket but decided it wouldn’t help and kept quiet. Leroux focused on his soup, slowly picking green peas out and placing them onto his tray. Ivy sighed and began to talk.

  “I live in an apartment nearby. Just across the road—walk straight along the path, then turn left. It’s the opposite direction from the Main Street.”

  Leroux stayed busy sorting his green peas.

  “The street isn’t that clean, and there’s only a small store. But in the mornings, I can hear the steamship whistles. I love that sound.”

  Leroux didn’t even nod.

  “When I hear it, I realize I’m not in my hometown anymore. I’m alone, in that apartment near the port, in a big city.”

  He kept talking, even without a response. Somehow, the more he spoke, the more excited he became. Leroux chewed his chicken, tore his bread into pieces, and put them into his mouth—his gaze fixed on the plate.

  “My brother works at the port. He loads and unloads cargo. Tough work, he says. He promised he’d take me to a pub, but he’s always too busy. Have you ever been to a pub, Leroux?”

  Leroux silently shook his head, and Ivy felt pleased just to get a reaction.

  “Well then, why don’t we go together sometime?”

  He asked nervously, heart pounding. Leroux gave a small nod, and Ivy was thrilled.

  Just then, a shadow fell over them. Ivy looked up and saw the group leader standing there. His receding hairline and shiny forehead, along with the deep vertical wrinkles on his cheeks, made him look stern. Ivy guessed he might be around his father’s age.

  “Are you getting used to the job here, Ivy?”

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  Ivy tensed. It was the first time the group leader had spoken to him outside of work duties. Was something wrong? Had he seen Leroux take the trant? Ivy’s stomach clenched.

  “Yes, thanks to your help,” he replied, quickly straightening up. Should he stand in this situation? He started to rise, but the group leader motioned for him to stay seated.

  “You’ve been doing well. I’ve got a new task for you today.”

  The group leader took a leather bag from under his arm and handed it to Ivy. Ivy quickly wiped his hands on his work clothes and accepted it. The bag was heavy, filled with a bundle of papers. As Ivy looked from the bag to the group leader, puzzled, the man gave a small smile—just the corner of his mouth lifted. His face remained as stern as ever.

  “Don’t take it too seriously. It’s an easy task we all take turns doing. All you need to do is deliver this to the research building and help one of the staff with some documents.”

  “The research building!”

  Ivy couldn’t help but cheer. He’d always been curious about the other buildings—now he finally had the chance to see one.

  “I’ll definitely do it.”

  Hearing that, the group leader gave another small nod and half-smile. Throughout the conversation, Leroux hadn’t looked up—he just kept breaking his bread apart and eating.

  As soon as the bell rang signaling the start of the afternoon work shift, Ivy rushed to the research center. He left his workplace building, passed two large buildings, and then came to the research center next to them. Between the buildings, he could see the sea glittering in the sunlight. The research center stood facing directly toward the ocean.

  Inside, the atmosphere felt quite different from his usual workplace. The windows were larger, the space was brighter, and everything looked cleaner. The spacious room was filled only with rows of low shelves, and no one else was there. He rang the bell at the entrance. After a moment, a woman wearing glasses came down the stairs beside him.

  “You must be new.”

  “Yes, I am. My name is Ivy.”

  The woman smiled. Ivy grew nervous and clasped his hands in front of him, but she let out a soft chuckle, easing the tension.

  “I’m Herschel, a researcher. Nice to meet you.”

  Herschel led him upstairs. Her long tied-back hair swayed behind her as she walked, and Ivy found himself mesmerized by its beauty as he followed her. On the second floor, desks were arranged in neat rows at regular intervals. The windows were as wide as those on the first floor, letting in plenty of light and offering a clear view of the sea. Working in a place like this, Ivy thought, would be more relaxing. Not all the desks were occupied, but a few people were busy, writing or examining some kind of machines.

  Herschel stopped at one of the desks, pulled out a chair beside it, and gestured for Ivy to sit. He sat down and placed his bag on the desk. On the surface, there were some documents and instruments neatly arranged.

  “You’ll use this desk. All you have to do is write down what I say.”

  Herschel took a document from the pile and handed him another sheet from the box between them. Categories like “viscosity,” “ash,” and “weight” were printed on it.

  “From now on, you’ll take these sheets yourself.”

  She began making calculations as she reviewed the document, reading out the numbers for Ivy to record in the proper fields. Occasionally, she used a tool—a wooden frame with rows of stone beads—to help her calculate. Ivy recalled that his mother used a similar tool for bookkeeping.

  Once all the categories were filled, he pulled out another sheet and continued writing as she dictated. When Herschel focused on her calculations, she seemed to forget Ivy’s presence, becoming completely absorbed. That actually helped him concentrate as well. The task, which he had thought would end quickly, ended up taking the entire afternoon shift. Still, Ivy felt lucky to have had a break from his usual repetitive work.

  He heard the final bell ring faintly in the distance—it didn’t ring inside the research center.

  “Thanks for your hard work. We got a lot done today,” Herschel said with a big smile. When she smiled, her eyes behind the glasses curved like crescent moons. Her face felt somehow familiar to him.

  “I had fun. I’ve always wanted to come visit here.”

  At that, Herschel stopped stretching and replied,

  “Really? Well then, would you like me to give you a tour of the refining plant? You’re done with your work for today, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but… can I really visit?”

  Ivy leaned forward. This was more than he had hoped for. He had always wanted to know how the trant he measured every day was being used.

  “Of course, I can’t show you everything in detail, because I don’t have the proper clearance,” Herschel said, standing up.

  “But I can show you the basics.”

  She grinned, took off her white lab coat, and hung it on the back of her chair. Underneath, she wore the same work clothes as Ivy. Without saying anything to the other researchers, who were silently working at their desks, she headed down the stairs. He followed her. He figured it must be the rule here not to disturb others while they worked.

  At his workplace, on the other hand, the rule was that everyone had to announce themselves when entering or exiting, passing by, or even going to the bathroom—to avoid collisions.

  “Are you interested in minerals?”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  He was startled by the sudden question.

  “You came here because you’re interested in minerals?”

  She asked again. He understood what she meant and shook his head.

  “Uh, no. I just wanted to work in a big city. I wasn’t particular about the job, or maybe I didn’t have much choice because of my lack of skills. So… I ended up here.”

  “You’re very honest,” Herschel said with a laugh.

  “That’s normal, though.”

  They walked out of the research building and headed toward the huge plant next door. The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow from the low sky. Shadows stretched across the brick building. Since he was a child, scenes like this always gave him a nostalgic feeling. The warm breeze hinted that summer was near.

  “I’ve been interested in things like this since I was a kid,” she said. “So I studied hard to get into Mond University, and now I work here as a researcher.”

  “You’re interested in trant?”

  He had never really had a chance to get interested in trant—how had she?

  “The trant, the vanamond, all kinds of rocks and stones. At first, I just liked collecting pretty stones. Then I got interested in how they’re processed. Don’t you think it’s kind of miraculous that the things people need are just there, inside rocks? Or maybe it’s more that people are good at using nature. Either way, I feel like it was all prepared or designed from the beginning.”

  Herschel smiled shyly. Ivy gave a vague, noncommittal reply—he had never thought about it that way. He was still trying to process her words when she stopped walking.

  “Here we are.”

  Herschel reached for the heavy, gleaming black door. Somehow, he felt a little disappointed—they’d arrived too soon. He wanted to walk and talk with her a little longer. He helped her open the creaking door. Looking up at her face, he suddenly realized—she reminded him of Tesus. Their faces weren’t exactly alike, but the way they spoke, the shape of their eyes when they smiled, the soft atmosphere they carried—it was all somehow familiar.

  The door opened, and warm air drifted out. The inside had a high ceiling and was much deeper and wider than he had expected. On the far wall was a large window with a huge fan slowly turning in it. A deep rumbling sound echoed throughout the building.

  “The trant is melted with a solvent, and when it does, it gives off a slightly poisonous gas. That’s why they keep the fan running all the time for ventilation.”

  She handed him a thick mask from the box by the door. He put it on and followed her upstairs. The upper floor of the building was surrounded by a walkway, allowing one to observe the area below.

  “Wow.”

  Looking down, he let out an amazed breath. Numerous large and small tanks, like swimming pools, were lined up, all filled with a bright silver liquid. Nearby, someone was dipping a rod into one of the pools, while another person checked a gauge beside a tank.

  “Is that silver stuff trant?”

  “That’s right. Strange, isn’t it? Trant is a black, shiny mineral in its raw state, but once it’s melted and processed, it turns into that beautiful silver color. That’s the true color of the metal inside. Come on.”

  She led him deeper into the plant. There stood a tall machine, letting out rhythmic puffing sounds. Beneath it was a rail, along which palm-sized silver plates slid one after another. A worker at the bottom picked up each plate and carefully placed them on a carrier to be taken outside.

  “Those are refined trant. They’ll be loaded onto a ship and sent wherever they’re needed.”

  “What are they used for?

  “For cars, ships… lots of things. But honestly, I don’t know the specific uses. Most of it is exported, though.”

  “Huh.

  Ivy murmured, intrigued. He had often wondered how the things around him were made—and now, he felt he’d just uncovered a small piece of the answer. He watched as the silver pieces of trant came out, one after another.

  “From here, they go through more processing to be shaped or used in various ways. But that’s the end of the tour for today. Next time, if you’d like.”

  Herschel’s voice brought Ivy back to the present.

  “Thank you very much for your time and for showing me around.”

  Herschel gave him a warm smile.

  “My pleasure. Actually, I’m happy a young worker like you joined us. It’s been a while—we’re mostly old guys around here.

  Ivy laughed. When they stepped out of the plant, it was already getting dark. The setting sun cast orange light between the buildings, stretching long shadows across the ground.

  “I have a bit more work to do, so I’ll see you later.”

  He was about to say, See you, when he noticed something.

  “Is that the shaping plant for trant you mentioned?”

  Herschel looked back and saw what Ivy was pointing at—a building with a tall chimney.

  “That’s the moira refinery. Isn’t your workplace next to the moira section?”

  “Moira?”

  He tilted his head, unfamiliar with the name. The company was called Thorarisson Trant Refineries, so he had assumed everything here was related to trant. He knew there were other buildings, but had never given them much thought. Seeing his confusion, she nodded.

  “I guess you wouldn’t know, being stuck in your section all day. Moira is another mineral—it looks almost exactly like trant. Same appearance, same weight, everything. You can’t tell them apart until you melt them. But their properties and uses are completely different. Thankfully, we never mix them up since they’re mined in different places.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Moira is a relatively new discovery—it was first found on the Song Islands just a few decades ago. Since Selsor is the closest port to Song and convenient for shipping, Thorarisson started dealing with moira as well. Before that, the company only handled trant, which is why the name hasn’t changed. Personally, I think it should, but you know the president—he’s so easygoing.”

  He remembered the stout man he met during his job interview, smiling broadly and saying, “It’s great to have more young workers here.” He really did seem easygoing.

  “Herschel!”

  A research worker popped out of the research building’s door.

  “Oh, I’ve got to go. Thanks for today. Let’s take another tour sometime soon!”

  She waved and trotted into the building. Ivy gave a silent thanks to her retreating figure and turned back toward his own workplace. His heart was pounding with excitement. The troubling incident between Leroux and Bruno that had brought him down that morning was completely forgotten.