After two more days, Daemon's daily routine was exactly the same, as if stamped from a mold.
During the day, he escaped the supervisor's eyes to explore the factory's structure, and at night, he devoted himself to magic practice.
As if the magical talent he had set wasn't a lie, Daemon became accustomed to gathering and moving magic power in an instant.
Rather than easily accomplishing some higher-dimensional task, it was a sensation as if the hurdle itself was absurdly low. But that alone was enough.
Just by handling magic power and practicing magic for three days, Daemon had gone from being a worker in a dim back room to a proper magic user.
He had already successfully demonstrated several simple spells besides the light-emitting magic.
At the same time, thanks to wandering around inside the factory trying to grasp its structure, Daemon succeeded in finding several routes leading outside this old factory.
It wasn't that he didn't encounter other supervisors along the way, but seeing Daemon's pale complexion that looked like he would collapse, no, pass out if poked, they ignored him, perhaps thinking he was running errands for another colleague.
Of course, Daemon's body, exploited day and night like this, was on the verge of completely breaking down, but in such an environment, hoping for consideration was nothing but a luxury.
Rather, it was right to say he was lucky not to be caught by the supervisor for sneakily skipping labor during the day. It was possible because the other supervisors were each stuck to their own jurisdictions during work hours.
If he had been caught by another supervisor, it wouldn't have been strange if he was really beaten to death and never opened his eyes again.
And finally, the day the union members were scheduled to come to the factory dawned.
Daemon, who had spent the night with his eyes open, slowly drew up his magic power in time with when the other workers would wake.
It was a sensation he had never handled even once before coming to this world, but the handful of magic power that barely existed in his body now moved easily according to Daemon's will.
He gathered that small amount of magic power and concentrated it cleanly around his forehead, then immediately used magic.
Magic with a very simple effect of raising the temperature of the skin surface. Simple enough to not need any incantations or hand seals, magic that could merely prevent body temperature from dropping in cold weather.
But in the current situation, it would clearly be an extremely effective spell.
The abnormality appeared soon after. Daemon's skin, with heat concentrated on his face, turned bright red and began to sweat profusely.
The workers who had naturally gotten up and were waiting for work time also discovered Daemon's appearance and began to murmur.
"Hey, look at that..."
"Seems his time has come."
"Still, he lasted a long time for this. This isn't a place where a weakling like that can work long."
"It's his fate."
The workers murmured like that but never tried to approach Daemon.
Daemon deliberately made groaning sounds, trying to make it obvious that he was clearly sick.
"If you've woken up, come out right away instead of doing what!"
Bang!
The supervisor who threw open the door with a fierce kick frowned deeply when he saw the workers' gazes directed at Daemon lying in bed.
He approached Daemon, examined his complexion, confirmed his forehead was burning hot, and shook his head.
"Huu... I'll give you 3 minutes, so run to the parts room right now!"
Even knowing he hadn't opened his eyes, the supervisor left the room without bothering to touch Daemon. He had judged that he could no longer be useful labor.
Moreover, today was the day union members were visiting the factory to collect products. There was no reason to cause a commotion on a day like today and get blamed unnecessarily.
The workers glanced back at Daemon even as they put on their work clothes.
"What do we do with that guy?"
"Looking at his state, he'll probably be dead when we come back. Wouldn't it be easier to clean up after we return?"
"Ugh... That's a bit creepy though."
"Still, it's cleaner to clean up after he's dead. If we bury him while he's still alive, we might have to bury him again after he struggles."
They began talking as if Daemon was already dead with only a corpse remaining. A weak worker dying from exhaustion gave no emotional response whatsoever.
At that moment, one person from the group of workers strode toward Daemon.
At the unexpected situation, Daemon, who had been lying down, tensed his body.
"Ben, what are you doing?"
"There's no time. Let's clean it up later!"
At the other workers' rebuke, he waved his hand with an annoyed expression and retorted.
"Shut up, it's noisy. It's fine to let him smoke one cigarette before he dies."
Saying that, he really pulled out a rolled cigarette from his chest.
"If you were hiding something like that, you should have told us."
"Yeah, you bastard. How much we've been missing tobacco..."
"I also stole a few while cleaning the supervisor's bed. I'm not giving you any."
The man called Ben took out matches from under his bed, lit the cigarette, and placed it directly in Daemon's mouth.
When Daemon's eyes widened as he unexpectedly inhaled the cigarette smoke deeply, Ben chuckled.
"Amazing, right?"
"..."
"It's famous for being made by mixing psychoactive plant leaves with cheap drugs. After smoking one, all your pain will disappear. It's not bad as a signpost on your way out."
Ben said that while patting Daemon's shoulder and disappeared following the other workers.
Through the slightly open window gap, wind entered and the grimy curtain swayed.
Daemon, who remained in the now empty room, slowly raised his body while still holding the cigarette in his mouth.
Normally he should move right now, but he sat on the bed without a word and concentrated on smoking the cigarette.
Absurdly, the single cigarette Ben had given him was completely overturning all of Daemon's plans.
The acrid smoke filling his lungs was absurdly bringing vitality to Daemon's body.
To be precise, the tobacco mixed with all sorts of harmful substances was forcibly making him forget the fatigue that had accumulated in Daemon's body and dulling the nerves that felt pain.
But just becoming insensitive to the fatigue that had been covering his body made Daemon feel a refreshment he had never once felt since coming to this world.
Physical ability as if he had returned to the days when he played games without any worries.
Daemon, who jumped up from his spot and swung his arms once or twice, was certain.
It didn't matter whether this was made with drugs or used strange plants.
Whatever side effects it brought, Daemon desperately needed such a doping agent right now.
"...He said the supervisor's bed?"
Daemon muttered like that while changing into work clothes and immediately left the bedroom.