''So the mirror is dangerous? Assuming it is in fact a mirror.'' I still clung to Tren''s hand as he went about doing his wake-up routine.


    "Dangerous to registered souls? No. However, in your case, I''d say you''d most likely be trapped at the very least. And in the case of an ordinary slime, most likely their soul would be completely obliderated."


    He set down his comb, which he only used for his eyebrows, and continued to fasten several belts to himself, later starting slotting various tools into numerous leather and fabric loops.


    "You did a great job on the tools; they look even better than when I bought them. Not that that''s saying much when they were the cheapest thing on the shelf, but I wasn''t paying the prick anything more than I''d need to for his overpriced wares."


    ''Actually, on that topic, how is the economy in this world? The world I came from nearly forwent transactional trade, as most things were uninvolved human-wise.''


    "What a wild place you must have lived for that to be the case. To answer your question, every region has anywhere from the top notch of anything you could think of to the cheapest, least valuable items hardly acceptable as sellable products. And prices everywhere in between for both categories." Tren placed his now gloved hand into a thinking position on his chin and restated, "Actually, you could probably think of some things they don''t sell after all."


    Tren started to gesture for me to get off amidst our coversation. ''I''d imagine so. I''m already here; may as well act as a glove in place of those very well worn scraps, which I can hardly recognise as gloves.''


    "I''d agree if you could actually protect my hands, but rather I''d ask for your assistance getting into the nooks and crannies of this damn magic drill core. There are too many screws in hard-to-reach spots, and I don''t have the tools to completely disassemble the frames that protect them."


    I promptly peeled myself away from his rough hands and scrunched closer to the drill. I wondered if I would be of much help, as I wasn''t very strong. Sure, I could get into small spaces with no problem, and that''s all he asked for, but I want to apply my knowledge and see if I couldn''t further assist in his magilogical endeavors.


    As for how applicable my knowledge would even be seeing as it is in fact an entirely different category and, for what I do know, probably functionally different to a significant degree too. The only counterpoint relevant in my mind is the undeniably recognizable symbol for a power button back on earth right here. Another world disregarded.


    I''d better just ask, ''This button here, what does it do?'' I stretched up and encircled the protruding button.


    "The operation button? It activates the drill core right before insertion into a drill rig. But other than the mana gem at it''s center and a few of the buttons on the front, I don''t know much about these systems."


    Tren began his work unscrewing several screws and bolts at a steadily increasing, quick pace, clearly experienced in his work, and took on a look of concentration. I just sat by watching him operate on the machine, removing piece after piece, splaying its internals around the workbench as he encroched on its center. One part he placed right on top of me, his intention clear as it was covered in gunk.


    The cleaned piece was what took me off guard. It''s similarity to a machined part—extreme precision milling, to be precise, excluding the signature sheem that would come from the repeated passes of a bit over a metallic surface—was a gear far more refined that even had a polished shine after my cleaning. Someone had to be an expert metalworker, a genius among the masses, or I severely underestimated the industrial progression undertaken previously on this world. Maybe I could blame it on magic though.


    I was struck out of my entranced attention to some fine metalwork when Tren plucked me up and moved me into his area of laybor''s attention. I was held somewhat like an oversized pen and wrapped around his forearm with my current excess mass not currently in use. Really, I felt that I could probably just plop down into this machine''s internals to eat away any and all the gunk that was clearly visible, but his warning came and executed that train of thought before it could get off the ground.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Before you go thinking, "Why not just jump into the gunk to clean it all at once?" Let me tell you now, most of this gunk is actually meant to be there. It''s filler material to restructure internal components as needed and only looks as bad as it does right now because of the forced shutdown this core went through." He started to point at various more solidified chunks in the tar-textured gray sludge, "These here are all important parts, and if you removed the support from around them, they''d likely enter a meltdown from a lack of mana conductivity around them at startup."


    The mention of a meltdown was a bit alarming before I put two together and realized it wasn''t radioactive material we''re working with here. Even if reactors had become over a million times more advanced and safer than the disasters of history, cleaning up the remnants of self-destructed molten salt tritium reactors was no fun task, as he''d heard. However, mana conductivity? New concept indeed. Was it like thermal conductivity and thermal paste? Or was magical conductivity electricity without the need for a completed loop? So many questions.


    He followed with brief instructions to grab out and clean only certain gears that had bonded to the gray soup, something I couldn''t tell the difference between and had to be pointed to. Sometimes he''d operate with the same hand I was attached to, with a tool expertly flying through his hands in a blur of repeated and experienced utilization, regularly flinging me about a bit as I followed through with my tasks and given a constant flow of new work to complete before my last task was just about finished.


    Even if he maybe didn''t show it when he talked normally, getting the job done so fast seemed to leave a wide smile on his face, as he left me on the worksurface and laid down to rest after being at it for several hours. The box was now completely back together, and all the fastening bolts were tightly holding the side panels in place. It''s surface was also giving off a new-looking finish after I''d given it''s exterior a once-over. Certainly not a mirror, and definitely rough. It was a component that, by the sounds of things, came into contact with a lot of rock and other abrasive material.


    Since I had been left to my own devices once again and hadn''t been given a new task, either from his exhaustion, understanding a work-living balance, or just lack of things to do, I proceeded to consume the now 2 bricks created by my consumption of workspace and project gunk. Indeed, as the one-horned man said, the bricks disintegrated just as fast as I reingested the strange, dark substance. My slimy side complained a bit about something that I couldn''t quite make sense of before I started to feel like I was going to pass out.


    <hr>


    The slimy blob was gone. No more did she have any hope to find it either, as she''s already lowered the elevator as deep as it could go, if only to reconfirm what was already known. This forsaken mine, as the higher-ups always told her, had no bottom, and anything lost below the 1500-stride elevator maximum was well determined to be long lost and not worth even giving a second thought to. While Misha had been lifting new carts of mined amrill, spots of obvious impacts were clear. A pattern long remembered from daily trips for years to retrieve extracted resources made these walls familiar to a sickening degree. And as such, the new chips and occasional gouge in the walls was a sore thumb that stood out to her.


    Sitting at her desk once again, she filled out another form detailing the materials mined, how much they weighed, and the average quality in each cart. Sliding it into the narrow slot in her desk that transported the file up to the middleman, she sat back and looked about the empty space. Only 4 people have entered this place in the past 6 years. Misha, The Middle Man, Coust, and her assigned doctor. The Middle Man never spoke, introduced himself, or ever was introduced; she didn''t know his name, only that he came to collect the material and return empty carts to be delivered back into the depths. Coust was part of the upper management, constantly giving her orders agreed upon at a table she would never sit at; again, all she knew about them was that they worked for the same company. The doctor only came in, healed any cuts that would slow down production, ignored anything that wasn''t life-threatening, and moved on with his day, always complaining about being far too busy and something about the hospital selling him out.


    Finding that slime, for better or worse, would have undeniably at least earned her a shower. Given it hadn''t managed to escape. Instead, all she got was another coin, whose value was supposedly very high, but what does value mean if you can''t use it? Besides, the fact she had the opportunity to meet someone with such mystery at all was more valuable than the chest that was overflowing with money she couldn''t and probably wouldn''t have the opportunity to spend.


    She was trapped in an endless cycle, working a job that had no end, paid something that had no worth to her, and held accountable for things she had no control over.


    The Middle Man entered the dimly lit area and walked over to the carts, linking them together and tugging the three full loads out into the light, which she was forbidden. His slender form, in contrast to her own, bulky and buff, showed no strain at all doing something she''d have strugged to do. Out and around the bend of the mine''s entrance, his figure disappeared once more, just like every other day. One thing was different, though. Why wasn''t he wearing his hat? Didn''t he always wear his hat?