Chapter IV: Own YourselfGOLD (US$/OZ)TVC:GOLDuti682375 The shop felt different that morning. Not quieter ... just still. Like the air knew something was about to change before anyone said a word. The Apprentice stood at the doorway with a small backpack slung over his shoulder. His hands were steady, but his breath wasn’t. He looked around the shop the workbench where he’d first fumbled a wrench, the corner where he’d stared at charts until his eyes blurred, the mirror that had once shown him more truth than he wanted to see. The Mentor stepped out from behind the bench, wiping grease from his palms. “So,” he said softly, “you’re heading out.” The Apprentice nodded. “I think it’s time.” The Mechanic leaned against the tool chest, arms crossed. “You sure you’re ready? Out there, nobody’s gonna explain things twice.” The Apprentice smirked. “You barely explained them once.” The Mechanic grinned. “Fair.” The Mentor approached, his expression somewhere between pride and worry. “You’ve learned the tools that matter the ones that don’t rust. Mirrors, reflections, candlesticks, maps. But there’s one lesson you can’t learn here.” The Apprentice waited. “Owning yourself.” The Mentor tapped his chest. “That’s the part you have to figure out on your own.” The Apprentice frowned. “What does that mean?” The Mechanic answered first. “It means when you mess up — and you will — you don’t blame the tools, the market, the shop, or the teacher. You take responsibility. You fix it. You grow.” The Mentor added, “And when you succeed, you don’t pretend it was luck. You own that too.” The Apprentice looked down at his hands... the same hands that once trembled holding a wrench, the same hands that had hovered nervously over a chart. Now they felt capable. “Where do I go?” he asked. The Mentor smiled. “Anywhere. The map isn’t the chart. The map is you.” The Mechanic reached into a drawer and tossed him a small, worn socket — the one the Apprentice had dropped on his first day. “A reminder,” he said. “Mistakes are part of the job. What you do after them is what counts.” The Apprentice caught it, feeling the weight of metal and memory. He stepped toward the door, then paused. “Will I see you again?” The Mentor shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’ll hear us. Every time you hesitate, every time you doubt, every time you’re about to do something reckless... we’ll be there.” The Mechanic smirked. “Especially the reckless part.” The Apprentice laughed, then turned and walked out into the sunlight. The door closed behind him with a soft click. For a long moment, the shop was still. Then the Mentor exhaled. “He’ll be alright.” The Mechanic nodded. “He’s got the tools.” And somewhere down the road, the Apprentice walked toward a future he didn’t fully understand... carrying the lessons of the shop, the weight of the socket, and the quiet confidence of someone finally ready to own himself.