The thin man stepped calmly toward the employer, his voice low and tinged with mild surprise:
"It's been a while… Why have you come here?"
The employer replied, motioning subtly toward me:
"I didn't come for myself. The man beside me is the one who wanted to come."
The thin man turned his gaze toward me. Behind his round glasses, his eyes shimmered with a faint gleam, reflecting the scattered light of the lab. He asked me quietly, his expression unchanged:
"So, what is it that you need here?"
I slowly reached into my inner pocket, grasped the small piece of gold, then pulled it out and held it up slightly in front of him.
"I came to find out if this… is real gold or just a glittering illusion."
The thin man stared at the piece for a long moment. Then, without saying a word, he extended his hand, his eyes still fixed on it as if reading a message carved into its surface.
At last, he spoke in a quiet voice:
"May I take a look at it?"
I nodded in agreement and handed it to him cautiously. His long fingers touched its surface, and he turned it over in his hand, weighing it more with his eyes than his palm. He remained silent for a few seconds, then turned his back and said:
"Follow me."
Without waiting for a response, he began walking. I followed, along with the employer, through a narrow corridor with small lights dangling from the low ceiling, casting a dim yellow glow. The walls were made of smooth stone, marked by scorch marks and wear—as if fire had once danced between them. The corridor would narrow and widen again, carrying with it the scent of cold metal mixed with old paper.
We passed an open room with a massive machine resembling a capsule. Beside it stood a short man wearing a strange helmet and flipping through a thick book. He didn't look at us, but the machine emitted a continuous humming sound—like the heartbeat of a tense mechanical creature.
Eventually, the thin man stopped in front of a heavy-looking gray metal door with a small opening above which some unfamiliar script was written—perhaps a warning or a set of instructions. He pulled a small key from his coat pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door clicked with a mechanical sound and slowly swung open.
We entered the room behind him.
The room was lit by a strong white light—unusual in this world—and a faint chill lingered in the air, like that of an operating room. The walls were covered in smooth glass panels, some displaying moving symbols, others showing chemical equations. On one wall hung a periodic table of elements, categorized by colors I'd never seen before.
In the center of the room stood a low metal table with a strange-looking machine on it. The device resembled a mix between an electronic scale and a black mirror. A transparent glass lid covered it, glowing faintly blue around the edges. Beside it was a small device flashing red every few seconds.
The thin man stepped closer to the table and gently placed the gold piece on the glass surface inside the machine. He pressed a small button nearby.
The device began to hum softly, a sound like a whisper filling the room. Indicators rose on a small screen, and multicolored lights began to flicker and fade.
A rush of awe coursed through me—not only because of the device, but because of the question now pounding in my mind:
How could such technological advancement exist in a world that appeared so primitive?
I glanced at the employer, but he didn't seem as surprised as I was. As if what was happening was perfectly normal to him.
But me—I stood there, staring at the machine, my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape to see the result for itself.
The machine let out strange sounds—metallic buzzing interspersed with faint, breath-like sighs, like an exhaling machine. The buzzing began to quicken, turning into a series of rhythmic pulses, like an electronic heartbeat.
I watched intently, motionless, my eyes following the blue lights that shifted into multiple colors, then gradually settled into green.
Minutes passed, though they felt like an eternity. I had unknowingly held my breath the entire time, my heart pounding furiously, as if trying to beat the result to the surface.
And then—suddenly…
A soft sound came from the machine, like a gentle growl, followed by a clear chime—and everything stopped. The lights dimmed. A strange silence filled the room. A gentle green glow rose from the machine's core, and all noise ceased.
The thin man quietly reached out, lifted the glass lid, and delicately picked up the gold piece with the tips of his fingers, as if it were sacred. The soft light danced across its surface, making it shine brighter than ever before.
Then, turning to us with a spark of excitement in his eyes I hadn't seen before, he said with a voice full of emotion:
"Looks like luck's on your side… this is real gold."
His words pierced through me like an arrow—but instead of pain, they unleashed overwhelming joy.
A sudden warmth filled my chest, and I smiled without realizing it.
I felt like I could fly—like my body had become weightless.
Eagerly, I stepped forward and reached out to take the gold piece. He handed it back to me with a faint smile.
He then looked at me and said, in a more businesslike tone this time:
"This piece of gold… is worth about fifteen hundred dollars."
I froze in place—as if struck by lightning.
"F-fifteen hundred dollars?"
I echoed the words in my head, trembling, unable to believe what I'd just heard. It felt like a dream that had suddenly leapt into reality.
But the man didn't wait for a reply. He continued, as if he had anticipated my reaction:
"How about selling it to me? Don't worry... I'll pay you the full price."
The room grew even quieter, as if everything had paused to await my decision. I looked at the gold piece in my hand—it gleamed with a warm glow, tempting me to keep it. Yet it also carried the weight of the future… and maybe its dangers.
I thought to myself: Where would I find another opportunity like this?
A small piece that could grant me safety, food, and shelter for weeks. Maybe even longer.
I raised my eyes to the thin man, and nodded.
We walked together toward the exit, passing through the same hallways we had entered, but this time my steps felt lighter—as if the ground itself was congratulating me.
At the door, I handed him the gold piece. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small brown leather pouch. Opening it in front of me, he took out bundles of banknotes, calmly counted them, and handed them to me.
"Here you go… fifteen hundred dollars, as promised."
I took the money in my hands, my heart leaping inside my chest.
Warmth spread through my body—not from exhaustion, but from the joy exploding inside me.
Now… I wouldn't have to worry about food, shelter, or even tomorrow.
For the first time, I felt that maybe—just maybe—this world was a place… I could truly live in.