Meanwhile, Nathan stepped into the small watch repair shop, the bell above the door giving a soft ring that faded quickly into the quiet. The scent of old wood and oil lingered in the air, and the shelves were lined with clocks, all ticking in uneven rhythms.

He waited, expecting George to appear from the back, wiping his hands on a cloth, but no one came.

“George?” Nathan called softly.

A young man emerged from behind the counter, eyes tired. “You’re looking for Mr. ...