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Heinrich was an old man, his hair a silver cascade that matched the hands of his timepieces. He was a master of his craft, but more importantly, he was a keeper of secrets. Hidden beneath the polished mahogany counter lay a labyrinth of hidden compartments, each holding a fragment of Berlin’s most whispered‑about legend: —the Golden Hand, a priceless jewel‑encrusted clock hand that, according to rumor, could turn back the very flow of time.