Chapter 9: The Test of Patience
Julian assigned Maria’s watch directly to Carter’s workstation under Henry’s supervision.
"It needs a complete teardown," Julian instructed, standing beside Carter’s bench. "The mainspring is jammed, and the balance staff is bent. It requires absolute stillness. If your hands shake, you break the pivot, and the watch is gone forever."
Carter sat down on the wooden stool. He adjusted the magnifying loupe over his right eye.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the micro-screwdrivers. The screws holding the bridge were smaller than sesame seeds. One wrong twist of torque, and the threads would strip.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. Outside, the winter afternoon turned into freezing dusk.
Carter’s vision blurred. Sweat dripped down the side of his neck despite the chilly room. He failed three times to align the balance jewel, having to stop, breathe, and reset his tools.
There were no followers watching. No live stream comments cheering him on. Just the silent battle between his own impatience and the delicate mechanics on the bench.
Julian pulled up a chair next to him, offering quiet, steady guidance. "Don't force the gear into the bridge, Carter. Metal expands with pressure. Let it find its own seat. Respect the tension."
At 7:45 PM, Carter carefully seated the balance wheel and applied a single drop of synthetic oil to the jewel.
He nudged the ratchet wheel.
*Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack.*
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The steady, rhythmic heartbeat filled the quiet corner of the lab. Carter dropped his tweezers, sat back in his chair, and let out a long, shuddering breath. A genuine smile broke across his face—the first time he had smiled without a camera in front of him.
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