Chapter 1

"Perfect," Grant beamed , admiring his latest creation. He had just finished painting it , applying a light wash to make the little toy soldier shine. To call it a toy would be an understatement , for it was more than that. It was a masterpiece, and like all his other works , bought not only by children but adults and even noblemen , used as an ornament for conversation starters. His work was always so exquisite that even his rivals would sheepishly knock on his door , armed with gifts to exchange for advice but their duplicates were never perfect.

His one rule of the store is that no one ever leaves it empty-handed , be it advice or merchandise , the visitors would always depart with a smile on their faces. And as all things famous , rumors began to crowd around this marvel of a man and his mysterious yet charming workshop.

"Work hard and you would be like him," said mother to their delinquents.

"Some people are gifted with all the talent," said the rational.

"He must have made a deal with fairies," whispers the widened eyes ones.

"His father must have been a strict man and trained him hard from young," snorted the skeptic.

Despite all the inquiries he receives on a daily basis , he would always just smile and nod. He knew better, for all the rumors were far from the truth.

"You call that perfect?"

It mocked with a degrading tone.

There it was.

Grant was never sure what to call it.

A gift?

For with the little voice in his head , he has achieved fame and wealth. It has guided him through his career as a craftsman and was quick to point out the flaws of his creation.

Or a curse?

Because of it , there were days where he would be so engrossed with work , that he would toil for hours working on a single piece. Food and sleep were forgotten and he would be lost in his work. If not for the satisfaction he gets at the end , he almost feels enslaved by it.

Whatever it was, Grant was stuck with it. Try as he might, he could not remember when the voice started talking in his head. He sighed and dipped his brush into more wash , if the voice says the work isn't done then it isn't done. Slacking wasn't worth being nagged at for hours, and he continued with his task , following the voice's instructions to apply more details.

"Good evening," came a voice from an unlit corner of his quaint little shop.

So lost in his work, Grant failed to realize he had another visitor. A young lady walking up to his side , her presence only noticed by him when she was directly right beside him, giving him quite a scare. Recovering from the shock, he quickly glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night , something he could have easily noticed if he had taken breaks to look out the window.

"Welcome, I would love to show you my work but I am afraid the shop is actually close. The front door is unlocked again isn't it? I have lost count of how many times I have told my assistant to close up the shop before he leaves for home," he said, slightly annoyed by the fact that someone has disturbed his progress.

But that annoyance soon flutters away as he saw her. She was beautiful , the type of woman who would draw glances , even stares from men on the streets. Quite heavily clothed , she wore a man's jacket to protect herself from the cold. Instinctively , he looked to her left hand and gave a deep sigh that any bachelor would. Because resting on her pretty little ring finger, was a simple silver ring that did not do justice to the lady's exquisite physique.

His eyes met hers and he felt sorrow he has never felt before. Her eyes were stormy grey just like his, a rarity around these parts. But no matter how many makeup one could put , he doubts anything could mask its sadness. They were the eyes of one who stay up all night , staring into them was like staring into a mirror, for his was just the same.

"It's getting quite late , you should get some sleep soon," she says with a voice so sweet and caring , it was like nectar to his ears. He tries to reply , curious to why a stranger would come into his workshop just to say a few kind words. But before he could utter anything , she sighed.

"I would be at the park , early in the morning tomorrow," she says while walking towards the exit of his workshop, but when she reached the doorway , she stopped as if there was something left unsaid.

"Do try to be there."

"Wait , I - " Grant got off his seat and attempts to give chase , armed with so many questions he wanted to ask. But when he reached the front of the store , she was long gone , as if she was a trick his eyes played on him, punishment for neglecting sleep.

"She is of no concern , your work is more important , you missed a spot while you had your little chit chat," reminded the voice , reappearing again.

"Well , I will find out tomorrow wouldn't I," he mutters to himself as he continued his work. It was late when he finished , feeling accomplished , he placed the final product on one of the shelves. He then plummet into his makeshift bed , exhausted but kept a mental note to reprimand his assistant for not locking the store door.