Two days had passed since Clara had been staying at James’s house.

“I’ve already taught you how to attend to customers, the names of every piece I sell. If anyone wants to sell me gold or jewelry, you let me know. I’ll be in the workshop, working on a new type of chain and figuring out how to design a fine watch for high-class ladies.”

Clara nodded, though her voice trembled slightly.
“Okay… but, what if criminals come in? I’m scared.”

James looked at her calmly, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. There are ways to handle those situations. What matters is that you learn to react with intelligence.”

The young woman nodded, determined to learn.

James gave her a confident smile.
“Relax, no one comes in here without me noticing. And I’ve got this friend with me.”

With that, he showed her the handle of a pistol peeking out of his front pocket before retreating to his workshop.

Meanwhile, a customer entered the shop, unaware that someone outside was watching with keen interest: Henry Blackwell. His sharp gaze lingered on the scene as a thought crossed his mind: Does he have a wife… or has he found himself a servant? I like her.

The customer approached the counter and greeted her politely.
“Good afternoon. I’m looking for a pure gold pocket watch.”

Still a little shy, Clara replied with composure,
“Yes, we have several models. They cost four hundred dollars.”

The man examined the pieces with curiosity.
“I haven’t seen these designs before. Where do they come from?”

“The owner makes them,” Clara answered, taking out several models for him to see.

Eventually, the customer chose one and pulled the bills from his pocket.
“I’ll take this pure gold one.”

Following store policy, Clara smiled and handed him a small gift.
“For your first purchase, we offer this silver ring as a token of appreciation.”

The man looked uncomfortable and shook his head.
“I don’t accept gifts, thank you.”

“It’s a courtesy from the owner,” Clara insisted gently. “For purchases over three hundred and fifty dollars, we give a small gift. That way, you’ll be sure to return soon.”

The customer smiled, accepting the ring with a grateful nod before leaving.

Moments later, Henry Blackwell stepped inside. His calculating gaze swept over Clara, who returned his greeting, unaware of his intentions.

“Hello,” the man said with an inscrutable smile. “What’s your name?”

“Clara Fitzwilliam,” she replied innocently.

“Are you the owner’s daughter, wife, or some relative? I ask because he’s a great friend of mine,” he said, stepping closer with a faintly seductive air.

A shiver ran down Clara’s spine.
“No, sir. I’m only staying here for a few days before returning home.”

Henry’s smile deepened into something unsettling.
“So you’re not family… Why don’t you come live with me? I like you very much, and you could make an excellent wife in a few years.”

Clara’s body tensed; she couldn’t move. Then, a metallic click echoed behind Henry. The cold muzzle of a gun rested gently against his head.

“You’d better step away,” James’s firm voice broke the silence. “She’s under my protection.”

Henry raised his hands in feigned calm.
“What’s the matter? If she’s not your woman, you could sell her to me. Or I could simply take her and make her mine.”

James’s jaw tightened; he didn’t lower the gun.
“I could empty this pistol into your head, though it’s probably empty inside already. A shame you’re not interested in doing business with me, considering we’re in the same line of work. But I see you’re just a poor, envious man who can’t stand another’s success.”

Henry narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped back.
“She will be mine… and so will your shop.”

When he finally left, Clara broke down in tears. James watched her in silence, feeling a pang of discomfort. He wasn’t one for affection, unsure how to react to an embrace or gratitude. At last, he managed a faint smile.
“Don’t worry. As long as you’re here, I’ll protect you.”

Without a word, Clara threw herself into his arms. James stood motionless, unsure how to return the gesture.

A few days later…

Tomas Vargas entered the shop, greeting in a friendly tone.
“Hello, girl. I’m looking for James. Tell him Tomas Vargas is here.”

Clara nodded and went to the workshop, where James was intently melting metal.
“James, Mr. Tomas Vargas is here to see you.”

James set his tools on the table and nodded.
“I’ll be right there.”

He stepped out, greeting Tomas with a firm handshake.
“I came to deliver a gift from my boss,” Tomas announced with a smile. “It’s a horse. He’s waiting for you outside.”

They walked out to find a magnificent steed tied at the entrance—young, strong, and elegant, with the proud bearing of a noble creature.

“Go on, give him a name,” Tomas encouraged.

James studied the animal with admiration, then declared proudly,
“I’ll call him Pegasus. Only the sons of gods, heroes, and legends have ever ridden one. And I will be a legend in the world of jewelry.”

Tomas smiled.
“That’s right. With this horse, you’ll attend the meetings we’ll have once a week. Always go in new, fine clothes.”

From his own shop, Henry Blackwell watched with burning envy. He clenched his teeth and thought, I’ll kill that damn horse.

That same night, in the kitchen, James was cooking while Clara chopped carrots.

“I’m sorry for what happened a couple of days ago,” James said without looking up from the pot. “Don’t talk to anyone—I’ll protect you from every lowlife. Just focus on selling and offering my products. And by the way, congratulations—you’ve sold very well these past few days. You’re a natural.”

Clara, still focused on her task, replied,
“I want to learn to use weapons—to be a gunslinger.”

James frowned.
“Hey! I know how to use a gun, but killing someone isn’t a game. A gunslinger?”

“That way, I could protect the innocent, be a bounty hunter, or at least defend myself from abusers,” Clara said with determination.

James studied her for a moment, then sighed.
“I’m not like the rest who say a girl shouldn’t carry a gun. And although I’ve never killed anyone, I’ll teach you to shoot. Tomas warned me you might be in danger… But when you go back home, they won’t let you keep a weapon.”

Clara set down the knife and met his gaze.
“I’m not going back home. They think a woman’s only purpose is to marry and have children. You gave me the chance to work like a man. As things are, I doubt they’ll ever come for me.”

James let out a dry chuckle.
“Don’t joke, girl. I wasn’t born to be a father. I’m also against following what the world calls ‘normal’… Though lately, I feel like I’ve known you before.”

Clara frowned in curiosity.
“Impossible. You’re older than me. But… yes, I feel like I’ve met you before. Could it be we were born somewhere else before coming into this life?”

James pondered as he dropped the carrots into the pot.
“Once, I met a customer from India. He brought me stones from Egypt and told me about something curious called reincarnation. I didn’t take it seriously, but he kept insisting: ‘You and I didn’t meet by chance—this was planned.’ I didn’t understand what he meant… But now, maybe, I’m beginning