From the outside, it was hard to imagine that such a humble place could be the birthplace of Musx, the revered brand known for its exquisite musical instruments.
Stella wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but as she stepped inside, everything around her felt almost sacred.
On the outside, the building looked unremarkable. The walls were a mix of wood and cement, lacking any distinct architectural design. It appeared rather nondescript, almost like a forgotten structure. As they passed through the gate, they saw a few apprentices grinding wood in the yard, each one absorbed in their labor. Musx’s founder, now an elderly man with a peculiar temper, had a strict approach to training. He accepted apprentices, but only under one condition: they had to complete every task on their own, with no outside help. The sight of the apprentices working, focused and diligent, was striking.
As Weston and Stella entered, a woman dressed in a white gown approached to greet them.
“Mr. Ford, Mr. Kennedy is resting inside. Please follow me,” she said, her voice calm and respectful.
The woman, though older, maintained her appearance with grace. Her white gown, which cinched at the waist to accentuate her figure, had delicate cyan silk thread woven into the hem, forming a lotus design. The gown was elegant and seemed to carry a certain quiet dignity. Stella couldn’t help but glance at it a few times, captivated by the craftsmanship.
Noticing her interest, Weston took her chin gently and asked with a slight frown, “Why are you staring at another woman so intently?”
Stella, caught off guard, responded before thinking, “So, it’s okay for me to look at men, then?”
Weston’s expression darkened immediately. “Don’t even think about it.”
His possessiveness was intense. While he had a right to be upset about her looking at other men, it seemed just as serious when she was focused on another woman. Weston couldn’t quite understand why he felt so irritated. He knew that Stella only affected him when she was near him, but he had never seriously considered the idea of letting her go.
The woman, noticing Stella’s interest in her dress, smiled gently. “Mr. Kennedy has taken quite an interest in dresses lately. He’s even been learning how to make them. This is one of his creations from when he was practicing.”
Stella’s eyes widened in awe. “It’s so beautiful!”
The woman chuckled softly. “Mr. Kennedy just plays around with these things. He can’t compete with the professionals.”
Her words were filled with a kind of affectionate reverence, but not the mindless devotion one might expect. There was a hint of helplessness in her tone as she continued, “He’s always been like this. His orders from last year are still waiting to be fulfilled. If it weren’t for his reputation, the customers would have been pushing him by now. He dislikes being rushed, and he procrastinates—one minute he’s learning how to make leather bags, the next, he’s working on outfits. He just can’t seem to focus on what needs to be done.”
Stella laughed lightly, amused by the description. She hadn’t expected Mr. Kennedy to be at a stage in his life where he would willingly humble himself to learn new crafts from others.
“It seems like those who are in the arts always have that little thing about them that drives people crazy,” she remarked.
The woman shook her head with a smile. “That’s just how he is.”
She led them into the hall, pulling back the curtain. As the heavy fabric parted, the scent of sandalwood filled the air—a soothing, almost calming fragrance.
Stella was reminded of the times she had visited temples before. The scent was familiar, though not identical to what she had experienced there. It had an aura of tranquility, almost sacred in nature.
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