Devil’s Music

Chapter 338: The Man Who Makes Watches

Chapter 338: The Man Who Makes Watches

The next day.

After a late night of drinking, Geon and his companions, still reluctant to rise in the late morning, got into a Rolls-Royce limousine where they had been waiting along with Alisher Usmanov.

Finally getting up in a hurry, Shizuka joined them in the car, and they set off towards Ambleside. About 30 minutes later, they entered a rural village. Sticking close to the car window and seeing the serene plains and a lake, Shizuka commented with a small smile.

"England is a fascinating country, isn’t it? To think that such a countryside exists just 30 minutes from London."

Alisher Usmanov laughed in response.

"Indeed. There's no other country in the world where the bustling city and the countryside coexist like this."

Geon smiled silently, recalling the Himalayas which were just a 20-minute walk from the capital city of Nepal.

"Did you contact Mr. Arthur Hodgson in advance?"

"No, I didn't. When deciding to invest in a startup, I prefer to see the person's usual demeanor first," chuckled Usmanov.

A few more minutes of driving brought them to a row of lakeside houses. The driver, frowning at the navigation system, turned to look back.

"We’re here according to the navigation, but it seems one of those three houses ahead might be the place…"

As Alisher Usmanov stepped out of the car, he said,

"Let’s ask around."

Joining Usmanov, they approached an elderly Caucasian lady sitting on a bench in front of one of the homes, clearly intrigued by the out-of-place limousine.

"Seems you're tourists," she commented with a warm laugh.

Alisher Usmanov, handing her Arthur's business card, replied,

"Ha, no. Actually, we’re here to see if this person lives here."

The lady, squinting at the business card due to her poor eyesight, handed it back.

"I didn’t bring my glasses, can’t see a thing. Just tell me the name."

"Oh, sorry about that. We’re looking for a friend named Arthur Hodgson."

She looked towards the house furthest back among the three. Like her own home, it was a single-story with white walls and a brown roof.

"If you mean Hodgson’s place, it’s that house there…"

Usmanov laughed as he put away the business card.

"Thank you. Let's go, shall we?"

As they passed, Geon briefly nodded to the lady who then stretched out her hand and remarked,

"My, my, aren't you a handsome young man?"

Reminded of his late grandmother by the old lady’s warm gesture, Geon paused, then sat beside her and responded with a smile,

"Hehe, grandma."

She carefully examined Geon’s face and exclaimed,

"I've never seen such a handsome young man in my life. Are you Asian?"

"Yes, grandma. I’m from Korea."

"Ah, Korea? The country that hosted the World Cup?"

Thinking how even a British grandma differs, Geon laughed.

"Yes, that’s right. It's already been 20 years, yet you still remember that, haha."

"Ha, just an old lady killing time on this bench. But why are you looking for Mr. Hodgson’s house?"

"Ah… I have some business with his son."

"Arthur? You’re here to see that little boy?"

"Ha, grandma, he’s not little anymore. I heard he’s in his mid-twenties now."

"Well, to someone like me who has seen him grow up, he’ll always be a little boy, haha. But I think his mother and he went to the market just a while ago… Did they come back yet?"

"I guess we’ll just have to see."

"Alright, I’m baking apple pie, do take some later."

"Ha, thank you, grandma."

Letting go of her hand, Geon rejoined Usmanov, apologizing for the delay.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, let’s go."

"That’s alright. You seem to get along well with the elderly."

"Heh, she reminded me of my grandma."

Assuming it was impolite to inquire further about a potentially deceased relative, Usmanov remained silent as they headed towards Hodgson’s house.

The white-walled house appeared to be made of wood, with a deep brown door. Usmanov, finding no doorbell, knocked.

"Hello, anyone home?"

After several knocks, the door opened with a rustle from inside. A Black man in his sixties, holding the doorknob, looked alternately at Geon and Usmanov as if wondering what their business might be.

"Hello, Mr. Hodgson."

Startled to hear his name, the man asked,

"Ah... Yes. Where are you folks from?"

Usmanov presented a business card, explaining,

"We

have some business matters to discuss with your son."

The man squinted at the card, then his expression turned to surprise. Quickly going inside to get his glasses, he returned, looked at the card again, and exclaimed in a slightly elevated tone,

"Arsenal Holdings? Is it the Arsenal I know of?"

Usmanov laughed heartily.

"Yes, that’s right."

"Well then, please come in."

Once inside, the man seated them on an old sofa and hurried to the kitchen to make tea. As they took in the surroundings, Usmanov nodded toward the aged sofa and table, chewed at the edges as if by animals, and an old mechanical TV that stood on an equally antiquated table.

"Doesn’t seem like a very wealthy home, does it?"

"Look at the pictures," Usmanov remarked, pointing to numerous family photos framed on the walls, from black-and-white to color, all sharing the same lakeside background.

"Seems like a family that has lived here for a very long time."

As they observed, the Black man returned with a tray of tea.

"Ah, thank you. A polite young man, I see. It’s nothing much, but the tea is made from chamomile picked by my wife from the mountain."

Tasting the tea, Usmanov's eyes widened in surprise.

"Are these leaves just lying around the mountain?"

"Ha, no, these are dried using a method passed down from my great-grandmother. Tastes alright?"

"More than alright, I'd consider commercializing this quality of tea. Thank you, Mr. Hodgson."

"Ha, call me Toby. Toby Hodgson."

"Ah, Toby. Nice to meet you. I’m Alisher Usmanov."

"Ah… Alisher… what was that?"

"Ha, just call me Usmanov."

"And this polite young man?"

"I’m Geon. Toby."

"Ha, thankfully, that’s an easier name. Wait, where have I heard that before…"

As Toby pondered, he soon shook his head.

"As you get older, memory starts to fade, ha."

"Ha, it’s okay. You wouldn’t know."

"Ha, thanks for understanding. But… you said you’re here to see my son about business…"

Usmanov nodded, smiling.

"I’ve seen the watches your son made. They need a bit more refinement."

Toby laughed sheepishly.

"He’s still green, eager to skip steps and become an owner outright. I worry a lot."

"There’s definite potential. With a good designer and proper equipment, he could make a successful brand of handcrafted watches. That’s why we're here."

Toby looked at Usmanov in surprise, then burst into laughter.

"Ha, I didn’t recognize such esteemed guests. Thanks for thinking highly of my son. But Arthur’s at the market with his wife. You might have to wait a bit."

"It’s alright. We came without an appointment."

Toby stroked his chin, thinking, then stood up.

"Can’t just sit here with such distinguished guests. My son’s workshop is in the basement; would you like to see it?"

Usmanov beamed as he stood.

"Oh! That would be interesting. A watchmaker’s workshop, you say."

"Ha, calling him a watchmaker is a bit generous. He’s hardly a technician yet. Come this way."

They headed outside to the basement stairs. Toby slid open a door and turned on the light, illuminating the dark staircase as he called out,

"Come on down, watch your step."

Curious, Usmanov went down first. The steep stairs made it difficult to descend quickly, and he disappeared slowly inside.

As Geon was about to follow, a strange sensation made him turn his head. He saw a person standing at the edge of the plain where the forest began.

"Who’s that?"

A blonde woman in a white dress was slightly distant, making it hard to discern her face. Geon stared at her for a while. She didn’t make any particular movements, just looked back at him. Realizing he was the only other person around, Geon felt it odd but waved his hand instinctively.

Though far away, he sensed she was smiling as she waved back.

Unusual for Koreans who are generally cautious with strangers, but typical for the West where even a mere glance can elicit a smile or a greeting, Geon didn’t find it strange. Smiling, he entered the basement.

Even though it was winter, the woman in the green forest quietly lowered her hand. Her deep blue eyes glinted as she looked towards Toby’s house.

"I’ve finally met the last child, Geon."

After a moment, she disappeared from the spot as if she had never been there.

>

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