It's all one flower.

1339. Skilled Craftsmanship Metaphor

Carrier Fiarluca scratched up her green hair and sipped herbal tea.

"Because there's no sensor to measure that slight change and the computer can't fix the error."

"The Federation of Barbatum and all that science and technology is going so far... are you still murky?

"If I wanted to make it, I'd spend a lot of money on research and development. It takes money to commercialize research results, and if you make parts that cost less per unit, you will have a deficit, so it would be more accurate to say that you can, but you won't."

Roark nodded at Cheng Cheng (I see), but another question came up.

"How can a town factory craftsman do that?

"It has a sensor called the nerve of my finger."

"Meaning...?

Surprise can make the next word disappear.

I thought you were pissed off, but there was no laugh in her eyes.

"A skilled artisan can say the difference in thickness just by pinching his hair with his fingers."

"Yep... can't the machine do something about it by any other means?

"So instead, you try to keep the temperature and humidity of the factory constant."

"Oh, in the direction of stabilizing the material... can't you?

"Now even if there is an accurate temperature sensor, there is no air conditioning system that can completely stabilize the temperature and humidity. It's hard to replace factory buildings with insulation specifications."

A passage from a commercial high school textbook plundered my brain.

"You don't know how many years it will take to recover costs if the product is a" cheap part ""

"Yes, yes. So it's so easy for a deadbeat, and for a deadbeat who can't linguize how he's doing it, it's something he doesn't know better than magic."

Roark shut up when he realized he had been criticized for the way he taught against Skinum.

They told me to bear the effort to convey the non-linguistic part, but I felt unreasonable as to why Roark had to do so much for Skinum.

... Well, I'm responsible for taking you out to Lanterna Island, but I followed you, Skinum.

"I can easily [manipulate water], but you can't even sense the" magical flow of water. "

"... because I am a powerless people"

Roark felt humiliated, but nodded without changing his expression.

"Even if you hold the [magic crystal] that compensates for its action, you can't use a technique like [manipulated water] for people who can't read the magic flow. You don't have to control magic like [exorcism] or [healing wind]."

"Was there such a difference?"

The surprise of knowing for the first time was connected with the feeling of surgery used in the past.

That feeling makes me sad that it wasn't a magic stream.

Skinum has not returned from your use yet.

While waiting for the material to arrive, the manager pinched the sandwich and was slightly late for lunch, but was getting worried about getting back by the end of the meal.

"That's right. But I can't verbalize what it feels like to sense a magic flow, and even if I could explain it, I wouldn't understand what it actually feels like for the rest of my life because you don't have the sensing power."

"Well, yes..."

... So, what do we do?

"I wouldn't have told you to use [fucking water] even if I gave you the magic to protect yourself to a powerless people."

"Yep... thanks for everything"

"We're each other, so I'm always helpful, too. Thanks."

I laughed and they said, but I don't interpret it.

The spellhouse door opened up vigorously and a large man came in. It's the material store Putnik.

"Wow, buy me another material. Freshly caught and fresh."

I'm going to go get the manager. There's a voice on my back.

"What happened to the glasses boy?

"I'm out for you. Can I help you?

"No, I was wondering how you were."

"Same as yesterday."

Roark entered the work room with a bitter smile back.

The manager of Gentius leaves the store with a sandwich with a skewer. I met Fiarlka and stood in front of Putnik.

"Hi there. I'm afraid you've gone out of your way."

"Today it's flat-faced digestive liquid, double-headed wolf eyebrows, charcoal quenching, and color-supplementing lizard scales."

Putnik handed the big bag to him unwrought.

The manager thanked him lovingly and pulled him back.

Roark placed a pencil and a curse order slip on the counter with the tea utensil.

"I'm not in a hurry, let him go first, for his sake."

"I'm not shopping, no problem."

Putnik nodded and looked at Roark as Fiarlka turned her smile.

"Is this the hauler?

"Yes."

"Oh, were you rumoring about me?

Fiarlka didn't break her smile, but the laughter disappeared from her eyes.

"Excuse me. I'm a little..."

"Fine. I'm keeping it a secret, because it's not a wack. This is the new exterminator?

"It's Mon who's a material store in Wangdu. I pinched it in my ear that Artel was full of raw materials. I'm here to procure."

Two wizards of a long-lived race deserve each other.

Roark became disturbed by the silence and spoke to Putnik.

"You didn't have a single trap on the rooftop of the mainland."

"Oh. Isn't it because the Warcraft just sits there, and it's more than a trap threat to Kirkrus people?

When the brunette greatness answered, the green-haired haulier turned to each chair.

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