not just status symbols; they were marvels of micro-engineering.
Julian's smile vanished. His internal calculator returned an error. The man before him
was wearing a tweed jacket that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift store, faded
jeans, and boots that clearly knew the touch of actual mud. Julian felt a surge of irritation.
This was Maison de L'Éternité, not a public library or a diner.
Arthur slowly made his way toward the grand display case in the center of the room,
which housed the Grand Complications—the absolute pinnacle of the brand's offerings. He
leaned slightly over the glass, his eyes tracing the intricate gears and tourbillons visible
through the skeletonized dials. He let out a soft whistle of appreciation.
Julian remained rooted to his spot, observing the man with barely concealed disdain.
Probably a confused tourist, Julian thought, or someone who got lost looking for the subway
station. He waited for the security guard to intervene, but the guard was currently assisting
a VIP client in a private viewing room.
Sighing internally, Julian decided he had to handle the situation himself to protect the
store's pristine ambiance. He walked around the counter, adopting a posture of
authoritative polite dismissal.
"Excuse me, sir," Julian said, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "May I help you
find the exit? The public transit stations are located two blocks east."
Chapter IV: The Appraisal
rthur looked up, mildly surprised by the interruption. He offered a warm, crinkly-
eyed smile. "Oh, no thank you, young man. I know where the subway is. I'm actually
here to look at a watch. This tourbillon piece here, the platinum casing... it's quite
magnificent. What movement does it use?"
Julian blinked. The old man knew the terminology, but Julian dismissed it as a lucky
guess or something he'd read in a magazine. "Sir," Julian said, his tone dropping an octave,
4
becoming firmer. "These pieces are part of our exclusive Heritage Collection. They are,
frankly, not for casual browsing."
"I'm not casually browsing," Arthur replied patiently. "I'm looking to make a purchase
for my grandson."
Julian let out a short, patronizing laugh, unable to stop himself. He looked Arthur up
and down, making his appraisal incredibly obvious. "Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I
believe you are in the wrong establishment. The pieces in this specific case start at two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Perhaps there is a department store nearby that might
better suit your... budget."
Arthur didn't get angry. In his long life, he had encountered thousands of Julians—
young, arrogant men who confused price tags with value, and appearance with character.
Instead, a glint of amusement danced in Arthur's pale blue eyes.
"You judge very quickly, son," Arthur said gently. "You look at the cloth and assume you
know the man."
"I am a professional, sir," Julian retorted, his patience wearing thin. He crossed his
arms. "My job is to cater to our clientele. And my experience tells me that you are wasting
my time. I must kindly ask you to leave before I have security escort you out. You are
disrupting the atmosphere for our actual customers."
Arthur stood up straight. Even in his old age, there was a quiet, unshakeable authority
about him—the kind of presence that didn't need a tailored suit to command a room. "I will
leave when I am ready," Arthur said, his voice losing its grandfatherly warmth and
replacing it with the steel that had built an empire. "But before I do, I would like to speak
with your manager. I believe his name is Marcus Vance."
Julian scoffed. "Mr. Vance is a very busy man. He doesn't have time to deal with
vagrants."
Chapter V: The Revelation
5
M
substance inside—the gears, the springs, the invisible mechanisms that make them tick
perfectly under pressure. The shiny casing? That's just the shell."
He stepped closer to Julian. "People are no different, young man. If you spend your
whole life judging people by their casing—by their clothes, their cars, their titles—you will
miss out on all the substance. You will surround yourself with shiny, empty shells, and you
will never recognize true worth when it walks right through your front door."
Julian lowered his head, tears of shame pricking his eyes. The lesson hit him harder