Chapter 176: A Masterclass Watchmaker

Leaving the girls behind at the Hillside Estate to enjoy their morning, I took my driver and stepped out for a quiet run into the city’s high-end luxury district. I wanted to treat myself to a fine timepiece—something understated yet powerful to match the current momentum.

I pulled up to the glass storefront of an elite boutique watchmaker. But right as I approached the heavy glass entrance, a sharp, heated argument echoed from the back office corridor.

"Pack your things and get out!" a harsh, condescending voice barked. "Your concepts are completely bizarre! Unusable! We build timeless luxury, not whatever weird, chaotic nonsense you keep drawing!"

A young woman stumbled out through the back doors, holding a worn cardboard box crammed with draft papers, sketching tools, and leather straps. She was breathing fast, her eyes wide with a strange mixture of shock and unyielding, fiery energy.

She wasn’t crying. She looked fired up—almost hyper.

As she rushed toward the exit, she didn’t see me standing by the display cases.

THUMP.

She bumped straight into my chest, dropping her box. Loose papers, metallic watch face mockups, and gear schematics scattered across the polished marble floor.

"Oh! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" she gasped, her voice light, fast, and bursting with rapid energy. She dropped to her knees, frantically gathering her papers like a whirlwind. "I wasn’t looking, totally my fault! Have a great day!"

Before I could even speak, she snatched up her box, scrambled back onto her feet, and bolted out the double doors into the street, her ponytail swinging behind her.

As the glass door swung shut, I noticed one of her loose sketch sheets had slipped under the display counter.

I leaned down and picked it up.

It was a hand-drawn blueprint for a watch movement—an impossibly intricate, skeletonized mechanical movement wrapped in a sleek, hyper-futuristic casing that blended raw industrial geometry with high-end luxury. It was bold, rebellious, and completely brilliant.

I looked through the glass window, watching her fast-paced silhouette disappear into the crowd down the boulevard.

I activated my System overlay, focusing my gaze on her retreating figure.

[TALENT IDENTIFICATION ANALYZER]

Current Skill Level: 1.8 / 10 (Raw, Unrefined)

Potential Rating: 9.8 / 10 (Exceptional / World-Class Genius)

Specialization: Horology, Industrial Luxury Design, Micro-Engineering.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across my face as I turned the blueprint over in my hands.

A hidden gem, discarded by narrow-minded fools who couldn’t see the future. Another perfect target for the Talent Hunter.

The boutique manager smoothed down his lapels, putting on his best customer-service smile as he hurried over to the display counter.

"Ah, good day, sir!" he beamed, completely ignorant of who he was standing in front of. "Apologies for that unpleasant distraction. Some people simply lack the discipline for true horology. Now, how may I assist a distinguished gentleman like—"

"Excuse me," I cut him off smoothly, not giving him a fraction of a second more of my time.

I turned on my heel and pushed through the heavy glass doors before he could even register what was happening, leaving the manager standing frozen with his mouth open.

Outside on the sunlit avenue, the girl was moving at an absurd pace, her shoulders hunched over her cardboard box, her long ponytail swinging side-to-side like a pendulum as she practically power-walked down the crowded sidewalk.

I lengthened my stride, effortlessly closing the distance between us within a few dozen yards.

"Hey," I called out, matching her fast pace as I stepped up beside her.

She flinched slightly, her head snapping toward me with wide, restless eyes, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts.

I held out the loose sketch sheet between two fingers.

"You dropped this."

She blinked, her eyes darting from the paper to my face. She quickly took the sketch and tucked it back into her box, letting out a heavy breath.

"Oh! Wow, thanks," she said, slowing down her pace just a bit. "Didn’t even realize it fell out. My brain is kinda everywhere right now."

"No problem," I said, walking comfortably alongside her. "That manager back there seemed pretty angry. What happened?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, a quick, nervous laugh escaping her lips. "Old man couldn’t handle anything new. He told me my concepts were ’too aggressive’ and ’unrealistic.’ He wanted the same boring, old-school watch designs from forty years ago. I told him he was out of touch, so he fired me on the spot."

"Their loss," I said, looking down at the box in her hands. "I saw the blueprint. It didn’t look unrealistic to me at all. It looked like a masterpiece."

She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at me with wide, suspicious eyes. "Wait... are you just saying that to be nice, or do you actually know anything about micro-engineering?"

"I know brilliant work when I see it," I replied, meeting her gaze with an easy smile. "And I know a narrow-minded boss who just threw away a fortune."

She stared at me for a second, her guarded expression softening into a wide, energetic grin. "Okay, now you’re talking my language. I’m Cha—wait, no, I’m Mia! Sorry, my head is spinning. What’s your name?"

"I’m Ethan," I replied, extending my hand for a brief moment before resting it back in my pocket.

She shook it quickly, her grip surprisingly firm for someone currently holding a box of her entire life’s work.

"Well, Ethan," Mia said, her eyes scanning me up and down. "Unless you own a luxury watch house, I’m pretty much unemployed as of five minutes ago."

"I don’t need to own that shop to appreciate what you can build," I said, stepping closer to lower my voice. "Actually, I have a job for you."

Mia blinked, tilting her head with a skeptical, half-amused look. "A job? Doing what?"

I pulled out my checkbook and a sleek Montblanc pen from my inner jacket pocket. Without skipping a beat, I wrote out a fresh check for a massive starting capital figure, tore it off, and held it out to her.

"I need two timeless, ultra-exclusive pieces," I said, looking straight into her eyes. "One for me, and one for my woman, Ruby. We’re attending the Met Gala, and I want whatever you build on our wrists."

Mia’s jaw dropped. She looked down at the check in my hand, then back up at my face, her hyper-energetic brain completely short-circuiting.

"No way," she gasped, her voice squeaking slightly. "Wait... Ruby? The Ruby?! The Met Gala?! Are you serious right now?!"

"Dead serious," I said smoothly, taking her hand and pressing the check firmly into her palm along with a small black contact card. "Take the money. Buy whatever high-grade materials, machinery, or workspace you need."

Mia stared at the numbers on the check, her eyes going wide as saucers, her hands trembling so hard she almost dropped her box again. "This... this is a crazy amount of cash! How am I even supposed to set up a full micro-engineering lab in time?!"

I smiled, tapping the black card in her hand.

"Call that number," I told her. "That’s my PA, Sarah. She’ll get you a state-of-the-art facility, source any rare metals or parts you ask for, and handle all the paperwork. All you have to do is build something the world has never seen before."

Mia held the check and card like they were made of gold, looking up at me with absolute awe and an explosive, competitive fire lighting up her eyes.

"You’re..." Mia breathed, speechless. "I’m definitely in."