Feeling the ache in her body, Lilithia had to accept again that she’d truly transmigrated. Just holding a small item weighing about ten pounds exhausted her five- or six-year-old frame completely.

"Lily, this is already the smallest hammer," her father said. "I only use finer tools for jewelry-making, but those break easily."

In other words, he feared she’d damage them as a child. But that was natural—no one knew if her sudden blacksmithing interest was just a phase. Lilithia didn’t care.

She silently began exercising. Her mother here looked surprised seeing her do push-ups or sit-ups, but didn’t oppose her daughter growing stronger. Being born a commoner had perks: fewer restrictions. With enough strength, she could easily sway her family’s will. So this really was a world where power ruled?

Lilithia also started eavesdropping on adults. She’d act cute and clueless, inching closer to learn this world’s truths.

"Lily’s such a sweet child," one neighbor remarked. "Planning to send her to a magic academy?"

A magic academy? The comment sparked excitement in Lilithia, but she kept a blank, confused expression. Her mother—silver-haired and crimson-eyed like her—shook her head. "A magic academy is just..."

The tuition was too steep for a humble blacksmith’s family. "For daily magic, I can teach her," she added. "But an academy..." Adults nodded in agreement. "Even if you scraped together the fees, a place like that..."

People didn’t idolize magic academies. They seemed unsafe. In a world with real magic, the spells taught there probably weren’t gentle. Like a place training you with guns, folks likely felt both subconscious yearning and fear.

But since she’d come to another world, skipping magic would be a waste. It was magic! Something she’d never seen in her past thirty years, only in fantasy books—now she could even spark a tiny flame. How could she not learn it?

Lilithia showed fierce interest. Her father once thought her blacksmithing phase would fade, shifting to magic or crushes like other girls. But it didn’t. She exercised daily, watched him forge, and curiously learned village magic tricks. Ordinary people with low-level magic often developed unique skills—insignificant to true mages, but useful.

Lilithia thrived, feeling unprecedented fulfillment. Without the internet, her once-impatient nature calmed. She quieted her heart, observed everything, and reevaluated herself.

Three years passed. Lilithia was nine. Girls developed fast at this age. She faced her "womanhood" again—budding chest and the monthly bleeding debuff caused real distress.

"Life... cessation."

She researched Life Magic. For commoners, it meant speeding crop growth or withering weeds—nothing special, since hands or fertilizer could do the same. But it was enough. Harmless magic was easy to tweak. She used brute-force trial and error, succeeding in dulling the debuff’s cramps. A huge relief—the pain had once left her immobile.

The girl was blossoming gracefully. Yet she wasn’t popular. Always in the forge, soot-streaked and friendless, she grew less likable. Adults sighed, "Lilithia would be lovely if she cleaned up..." Peers saw her as utterly unremarkable. She didn’t care.

Her haphazard magic training grew mana slowly through use and rest. But her blacksmithing now matched her father’s. Though weaker than adult men, she could run the forge alone.

"Oh! Lilithia," her father announced, "I’m fetching magic ore from the next town today. Afterward, we can try forging magic items together." Her skill reignited his drive. With her help, he’d saved enough to finally enter this realm. To him, she was born for it—diligent, hardworking, a true craftsman.

"Okay. Go ahead," she replied.

Her eyes stayed on the furnace flames. When the iron glowed perfectly, she clamped it out, ignoring the heat, and swung the hammer hard.

"Clang!"

The sound echoed, followed by rhythmic strikes. Lilithia focused on forging armor. The village chief’s son had passed the Tulip Empire’s army selection. His father spent his savings on custom armor—standard issue wasn’t enough for a parent. Hunters also ordered bows; an assembly line would ease the work.

Her hands hammered automatically, mind wandering. She’d considered making firearms—her skills could manage it—but was it necessary? Too flashy. Attention brought danger, not her style.

After part of the armor was done, she stopped. Her stamina couldn’t handle prolonged forging. Better to split the work. She sat at the counter. Villagers came straight to the forge if it was empty; travelers or adventurers needing repairs shouted at the door. Pondering magic here was peaceful.

Today, a customer arrived: a youth around seventeen or eighteen, holding a longsword gleaming with cold light. A fine sword! One glance told her it was no ordinary blade—likely magical.

"Little sister, is your family here?" His voice was gentle, lacking an adventurer’s usual harshness.

"If you need something made, I can do it." She pulled a small dagger from under the counter. "I forged this. You look like a connoisseur—you’ll see the craftsmanship. I can explain the process if you’d like." Subtle flattery for business.

He examined the dagger, surprised. "Exquisite work. But no magic imbued..."

"For magic items, the city’s better~"

He paused. "No city." He rummaged in his pocket, producing two broken pendants—chest ornaments carved with strange creatures. "Can you fix these?"

Lilithia studied the fractures. "Iron, silver, fire copper... an alloy with rare ores. Tricky—the materials are hard to find. The craft itself isn’t difficult."

"I have them." He pulled out small ore chunks. Suspicion flickered in her, but...

"Come tomorrow afternoon. This is delicate; I need time to blend the alloys."

He nodded to leave.

"Wait!"

"Hm?"

"We haven’t set a price!"

"Discuss it after repairs?"

"Afraid I’ll overcharge? Once done, even in town, my price stands. Unless you refuse it."

His expression twisted. Smiling at the nine-year-old, he said, "No one extorts Fiore."

!

Damn! He showed off!