The Illusion of Confidence

I stood before the workstation, staring at the disassembled mechanical components scattered across the table. Cables, circuit boards, metal plating—all waiting to be assembled into a functional system.

This was the practical portion of the Robotics and Mechanical Skills test.

The written portion had been easy enough. My system had the integrated database, so it allowed me to pull up any form of public knowledge with just a thought. What's more is that nobody could see my eyes shifting beneath the mask, and I made sure to keep my posture relaxed, like I already knew everything they were asking.

But now?

Now I had to actually build something.

And that was a problem.

I had some experience with construction, sure. My Precision Engineering and On-Sight Adaptability skills let me understand when something was poorly built or when a structure was unstable. But that wasn't the same as assembling delicate mechanical systems.

I couldn't brute-force my way through this.

I needed precision.

I needed expertise.

And worst of all—I needed it fast.

A timer blinked above the workstation. Fifteen minutes remaining.

I clenched my jaw. Damn it.

I could already hear the murmurs from the other competitors, their voices hushed but unmistakable.

"Look at him. He hasn't even started yet."

"Maybe he doesn't actually know what he's doing after all."

"All that confidence, and now he's hesitating."

I forced myself to stay calm. This was just another puzzle. And I was good at puzzles.

I activated Scan, letting my vision flicker through the room. Names, occupations, and skill lists appeared in my systems as I glanced at the competitors. Most had general mechanical skills—Basic Engineering, System Calibration, Component Troubleshooting—but nothing that could give me an instant edge.

I kept scanning.

Fifteen competitors.

Ten.

Seven.

Then—

I found someone with the skill I needed. Blueprint and Schematic Reading (Lv. 4): Increases ability to interpret mechanical diagrams, wiring schematics, and technical drawings.

Perfect.

I locked onto the skill and used Copy. A sharp pulse ran through my mind, and suddenly, mechanical diagrams weren't just lines and symbols anymore. They were instructions. Clear, understandable instructions.

I inhaled sharply, forcing my hands to move.

From that moment on, I didn't even think.

I wasn't looking at what I was building. I wasn't analyzing the pieces. I simply let the skills guide me.

Blueprint and Schematic Reading told me where each piece belonged.

Fast Assembly ensured my movements were efficient.

Instinct was simply guiding me to what felt right to do.

Deduction let me anticipate the next steps without hesitation while also informing me of the piece I was holding without needing to look at it.

My fingers blurred as I connected wiring, secured panels, and aligned circuits. The murmurs in the room shifted.

"Is he—"

"Wait, is he not even looking?"

"He's building it without checking?"

I could hear their awe, but if only they knew the truth. I wasn't being arrogant.

I was panicking.

I had no idea what I was actually making.

But stopping to check would slow me down, and I didn't have time for second-guessing.

I pressed the final component into place.

Beep.

The timer hit zero.

I exhaled, lowering my hands.

And I still didn't look at what I had built.

Instead, I turned my head—locking eyes with Elliot.

His face was frozen in shock.

He wasn't the only one.

Competitors, judges, even the random strangers who were walking in the library stopped and were staring at my workstation. But I didn't react. I kept my posture calm, unreadable.

And then, with the same measured tone I had used before, I spoke:

"Perhaps now I am on the same level as Mr. Fox and Mr. Dust."

Elliot's jaw tightened.

But this time—

He had nothing to say.

I sat in silence as the last few trials wrapped up. My heart had finally stopped pounding in my chest, but I kept my expression unreadable.

The competition was over.

And now came the final results.

One person from each division would be selected for the NASA hiring process. The best of the best—the ones deemed worthy to advance.

The judge stepped forward, clipboard in hand.

Her voice carried through the silent room.

"For the position of Astrophysicist—Dr. Lillian Carter."

A woman near the front let out a relieved sigh, standing up to accept the offer.

"For Aerospace Engineering—Marcus Lee."

Another name, another competitor stepping forward.

"For Astronaut Trainee—Elliot Vance."

No surprise there.

Elliot rose from his seat, his expression unreadable. But as he passed by, he glanced at me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Even now—he still couldn't understand me.

And finally—

The judge adjusted her clipboard, scanning the final name.

"For the position of Astronaut..."

A pause.

A slight hesitation.

And then—

A name that was not mine.

Silence filled the room.

For the first time, the competitors turned to look at me, their expressions shifting from awe to confusion.

I didn't move.

I didn't react.

I simply sat there, letting the weight of the moment settle in.

Because Mr. Angel had not been chosen.