Mining Continues

Jagged mountain peaks loomed over the land, their sharp edges crowned with thick frost. The chilling winds howled through the air, their icy breath sinking into the very bones of those who dwelled beneath them.

Deep within the heart of these peaks, a vast network of winding tunnels stretched endlessly, their walls lined with glistening veins of precious ore. The tunnels pulsed with life—but not the kind that thrived.

A dim, flickering glow from wall-mounted fire crystals barely illuminated the hundreds of people inside. Their silhouettes moved in rhythmic unison, pickaxes striking stone in a ceaseless, punishing cycle.

Sweat dripped from their brows. Their hands were blistered, their bodies aching. Yet, none dared to stop.

Among them, murmurs spread like wildfire.

"It's been a whole month, and that bastard noble hasn't shown his face once."

A skinny man scoffed, his voice laced with resentment. "Didn't he say something about 'only the strong surviving'? Now that we're raking in money for him, he doesn't even bother to check on us."

A young woman joined in, spitting on the ground. "Aren't all nobles like that? Using people, making empty promises, then leaving them to rot."

An old man—his frame hunched from years of toil—paused his work. He exhaled deeply, then turned toward the growing crowd of frustrated workers. "You all like to complain, but none of you have the guts to do anything."

The murmurs stopped.

His words struck a nerve.

Someone from the crowd snapped back. "Old man, what do you expect us to do? That ork-faced bastard is strong. Even our best fighters couldn't scratch him! We're just normal folks."

The workers nodded in agreement.

The old man sighed, shaking his head. "One of those 'best fighters' you're talking about is my son. Don't lecture me, boy."

He leaned on his pickaxe, his voice calmer now. "Like it or not, our situation has improved."

A young girl, barely in her teens, stepped forward. Her face was smeared with dust, making it difficult to tell who she was. Yet, her voice carried strength.

"Grandpa is right. This week, we got fresh food supplies. The water shortage was fixed. Some of our debts were cleared. That wasn't the case before."

The crowd shifted uneasily.

"She's not wrong."

"I guess we've been ignoring that part..."

A rugged man scoffed. "So what? He still hasn't shown his face. That tells you everything."

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Why do you care? He's a noble. He can do whatever he wants. The fact that he even bothered to improve our lives means something."

The murmurs continued, but their tone had changed.

"Yeah… he could've just ignored us entirely."

"I hate to admit it, but things are better now."

Just then—

Footsteps.

A rhythmic, deliberate sound echoed through the tunnel.

Instantly, the workers snapped back to their tasks, pretending as if they had never stopped.

From the darkness of the passage, a woman emerged.

Her pristine maid uniform stood in stark contrast to the dirt-stained workers. Her long obsidian hair was neatly tied back, and her sharp eyes held nothing but cold indifference.

Laura.

She scanned the room, her gaze settling on a burly man.

"Ronan( 'the bigger')."

The massive miner stiffened. "Yes, Madam Laura?"

"Report. How much has been excavated?"

Ronan bowed slightly before answering. "Madam, 90% of the ore in this section has been extracted. By tomorrow, we'll move to the next area."

Laura nodded. "Work faster. Lord Einar is growing impatient. You don't want to know what happens when he's angry."

Ronan's face paled.

He bowed hurriedly. "Understood, madam! We'll pick up the pace!"

Laura said nothing more. She turned and left, her presence vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared.

As soon as she was gone, the workers let out quiet sighs of relief.

The old man, however, simply smirked.

...

When night came, the towering peaks cast long shadows over the town below.

The miners, exhausted from their labor, trudged home to rest.

Yet, amidst the quiet, one figure slipped away.

The old man moved swiftly, taking a hidden path through the alleyways. His destination? A secluded corner of the town.

There, waiting for him, was Laura.

But not the Laura from earlier.

This Laura wore a heavy cloak, the hood drawn over her face, obscuring her features.

Not that it mattered. None of these fools could read her expressions anyway.

She tossed a small bag toward him. It landed at his feet with a soft thud.

The old man picked it up and shook it. The weight of gold coins rattled inside.

His lips curled into a knowing smile. "I wasn't doubting you, Madam Laura. But old habits die hard."

Laura didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away.

...

Back at the castle, Laura was greeted by the other maids.

One of them—Olie, the so-called 'demonic maid'—pulled her into a tight hug.

"Do you really have to keep doing this, Laura? That bastard's been gone for a month. Maybe he died in some ditch. Why are you still playing the bad guy?"

Laura simply smiled. "People are benefiting from it. It's not as bad as you think."

Another maid, this one with a high ponytail, nodded. "Laura's right, Olie. Maybe he'll return. Even if he doesn't, things are better now because of his presence."

Olie scowled but didn't argue further.

Sensing another debate, Laura interrupted, "I'm tired. Let me rest."

The maids exchanged glances before sighing in defeat.

Laura returned to her chamber.

She changed into her sleepwear, then lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She exhaled.

"Will he return?"

Her eyes drifted toward the door frame.

"It's been a month since he went into the desert. The town is improving… because of his threat."

She turned, gazing at the night sky through her window.

The stars shimmered, cold and distant.

"Shouldn't I be happy he's gone?"

Her fingers clenched the fabric over her chest.

"Do I really hate him?"

She had prayed countless times for his demise.

Yet—

The thought of him being dead felt wrong.

Unacceptable.

A slow realization settled in her heart.

"What if something happened to him?"

Her grip tightened.

She didn't want that.

Not now.

Not anymore.

She made her decision.

Tomorrow, she would set out.

Tomorrow, she would enter the desert.

She was going to find him.

No matter what.