Oke, ini aku terjemahkan ke bahasa Inggris dengan gaya santai, ringan, dan tetap terasa seperti novel isekai modern:
"This… is way too complicated," Gareth muttered. "The gears are tiny, there are so many of them, and every single part has to be precise. Even if one is slightly off, it means total failure."
Grandpa Boris squinted, studying the escapement piece I'd sketched out with crosshatched lines. "They're all small parts. The biggest one is only about this size," he said, measuring between his thumb and forefinger. "And with the molds we have now… none of them can make something this delicate. Especially not the spring."
I let out a sigh. "So, we need new molds?"
"Exactly," Grandpa Boris replied firmly. "And not just one. A mold for the spring, for the gears, for the shafts. Each one is different. We'll need metal molds with high precision. That means extra work… and maybe failing over and over."
Gareth crossed his arms, frowning. "Another problem is materials. We need something light but strong. Regular iron is way too heavy for gears this small. Maybe copper, or an alloy of tin and bronze."
"If you're the patient type, we can try," Grandpa Boris said. "But expect failure. Lots of it."
"No other choice. Okay," I answered, putting an end to the discussion.
"Don't pour it yet! The mold isn't cool enough!"
"Huh? Didn't you say not to wait until it cools?"
"That was for the last mold! This one's new!"
Yeah… we'd barely started, and we were already arguing about mold temperatures. A good sign, maybe.
We started with the main gear—the biggest one and (in theory) the easiest to cast. First mold melted. Second one cracked. Third one finally worked… until I dropped it while it was still hot.
Grandpa Boris stayed calm. With his wrinkled hands and a voice as steady as a well, he just said, "We're only getting started. A clock isn't a cooking pot. It has to be precise."
He was right. Once we managed the main gear, we moved on to the intermediary gear. Smaller teeth, tighter spacing. Three attempts, all failures—they came out like burnt biscuits. Teeth clumped together, some completely missing.
"I'm starting to think this mold is cursed," I muttered, peeking at the latest disaster.
We switched tactics: a two-sided mold with a layer of wet clay at the core. Finally… one perfect small gear, with all its teeth intact.
We cheered like we'd just struck gold.
Next was the escapement. That thing… was a monster from hell. Complex shape, every angle had to be perfect.
First mold exploded. Second melted. Third survived, but the shaft was crooked. Fourth one—don't even ask how—came out looking like a chicken's head.
"Somehow, I respect this failure," Gareth said, nodding solemnly.
And let's not even talk about the spring. I gave up on a spiral spring entirely and went with a simple weight-driven pendulum instead. Same principle, and way more realistic given what we had.
By noon, we began assembling the parts. Gears slotted into place, escapement hooked to the pendulum. I tied the pendulum with leftover hemp rope and wound up the makeshift spring I'd made from coiled copper wire.
The first second passed in silence. We all held our breath.
Tick… tick… tick…
The gears turned.
The pendulum swayed.
And the clock was alive.
As the hand began its slow crawl, I glanced out the workshop window. The sun was right overhead. The flagpole's shadow had all but vanished from the ground.
"Exactly noon," I murmured, then nudged the hand to point at 12.
"The clock is ticking," Gareth said, disbelief in his voice.
"But how do we know if this time matches the hourglass?" Grandpa Boris asked.
"That's why we test it." I pulled out an hourglass set for one hour.
Second by second, the sound of the pendulum filled the workshop, like the heartbeat of some giant. Sand trickled steadily into a growing mound below.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
"Akira, how was it? Did it work?" Min Ji's voice rang out, followed by Clarissa stepping in, brushing windswept black hair from her face.
"Shhh… keep it down," Gareth hissed, like we were babysitting a newborn.
Min Ji raised an eyebrow. "Why are you whispering? What are you three even doing?"
I pointed to the clock swaying proudly in the corner. "Look. We're testing it. This clock has to match the hourglass. If it does, we'll have a more accurate way of keeping time."
Min Ji stepped closer, eyes wide. "I'm not seeing things, right? That clock… it's ticking?"
Clarissa came over too, studying the pendulum with an unreadable expression. "So… you're all just sitting here, watching sand fall?"
She paused, then let out a short laugh. "Only you, Akira, could make a hunk of scrap metal sound like some kind of miracle."
I shrugged. "Believe me, if this works, this 'hunk of scrap' could change how people measure their lives."
The last grain of sand fell into the lower bulb. Gareth shot up straight, like he'd just witnessed the grand finale of a tournament.
"That's it! One full hour!" he shouted, pointing at the hourglass.
All eyes snapped to the clock. The hand glided gracefully, stopping right at the 1.
Silence. Only tick… tick… tick… filled the room.
I swallowed hard, then smiled. "Perfect. Not late, not early."
Gareth threw his arms up like he was about to cheer. "IT WORKED!"
"I-I can't believe it," Min Ji stammered.
Clarissa, who had been lounging lazily, finally fixed her gaze on the hand. She exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'll admit it. You're right, Akira. Your junk pile… really is alive."
I chuckled. "Not junk. It's a mechanical clock. A timekeeper that can run for months on nothing but a little winding. And as long as the pendulum swings, it'll keep ticking."
The pendulum kept swaying, like it was celebrating its victory over sand.
For a moment, that little village workshop felt like the center of the world. We, just a bunch of ordinary people, had witnessed the birth of something that could change history.
And I knew… this was only the beginning of a renaissance.
**********************
Oke, aku ubah ke bahasa Inggris yang lebih santai, tetap bernuansa novel tapi ringan, kayak gaya light novel modern:
The wooden cart creaked as we pushed it toward Princess Laura's place. The sun was already leaning west, its light slipping through the trees around her manor. Inside the crate, the pendulum swung steadily—tick… tick… tick—like it was humming our little victory tune.
At the entrance, a servant opened the door for us. And there he was—Charles—standing tall with a warm smile.
"Charles, you're up on your feet again," I said.
"Yeah, though it still hurts in places. So… what's that you've brought?"
I grinned and pulled off the cloth covering the clock. The pendulum swung back and forth, the hands slowly creeping forward.
Princess Laura stepped closer, her white dress brushing lightly against the floor. "Is this… really a timekeeper more accurate than an hourglass?" Her voice was soft, curious.
I nodded. "This thing can keep running for months, only needing a little winding now and then. No sand, no sun. As long as the pendulum swings, it keeps going."
Charles leaned in, wide-eyed like a kid. "Incredible… This isn't just some merchant's gadget or a scholar's toy. This… this could change everything. Work, travel, trade—even how people live day to day."
Laura stayed quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on the clock. Then she turned to me, eyes sharp but warm at the same time. She raised a hand in a graceful little gesture.
"Akira," she said softly, "would you show this invention to my sister, Queen Luna? I'm certain she'd be amazed."
I took a deep breath. Bringing the clock before the Queen wasn't just about showing off a village workshop project anymore. It meant stepping right onto the stage of the kingdom.
I glanced at the clock, still ticking, then looked back at Laura with a small smile.
"In that case… I guess this clock's next stop is the palace."