I barely registered the passage of time. Days blurred together into a singular rhythm—wake up, absorb knowledge, test my understanding, repeat. The world outside my office ceased to exist. No distractions. No breaks beyond the bare minimum required to stay functional. Just me, the endless sea of information, and the quiet hum of the desk lamp casting flickering shadows over the fortress of books and scattered notes that had taken over my workspace.
At first, I only focused on the fundamentals: orbital mechanics, zero-gravity physics, life support systems—each concept carefully broken down, internalized piece by piece. But as the days passed, my hunger for mastery grew insatiable. It wasn't enough to just understand these principles. I had to live them. Every page I turned had to offer something new, something deeper. I found myself drawn into advanced navigation techniques, emergency spacecraft repairs, the intricacies of long-term space habitation. Equations and schematics danced behind my eyes even when I closed them, my thoughts constantly running calculations, testing scenarios.
Every concept had to be absorbed, dissected, understood on an instinctive level. Every skill had to become second nature. Because in space, there were no second chances. And failure—no matter how small—was never an option.
My Absorb ability made things easier—far easier than any normal person could manage. Every book I consumed turned into raw knowledge, neatly stored in my mind, like downloading data into a machine. Formulas became effortless. Engineering schematics turned into instinct. Theoretical physics felt as natural as breathing.
But it wasn't enough.
I needed practical skills too.
Which meant using Copy.
During the few moments I left my office, I roamed the library's halls, observing students, researchers, engineers—anyone with useful skills. I copied what I needed, but only sparingly. Too much would raise suspicion. If I pulled up to an evaluation and they saw me with 10 skills ranging from level 4-5 , as a C-Rank astronaut, questions would be asked.
So I was careful. Calculated. I picked my targets wisely, ensuring a slow, believable progression.
Over time, I was acquiring good skills and improving previous one's as well:
Zero-Gravity Maneuvering (Lv. 4) – Improves movement and coordination in microgravity environments, ensuring efficiency when performing tasks in space.
Spacecraft Operation (Lv. 3) – Enhances the ability to control and operate spacecraft systems, including navigation, propulsion, and communication, both in space and during re-entry.
Scientific Research in Space (Lv. 3) – Improves ability to conduct experiments, analyze data, and document findings in microgravity and space environments.
Mechanical Mastery (Lv. 4) – Enhances skill in diagnosing, repairing, and optimizing mechanical systems across various industries.
Astrophysics Understanding (Lv. 5) – Boosts comprehension of celestial mechanics, cosmic phenomena, and space weather, aiding scientific research and navigation.
By the time I looked up from my books, I realized something.
It was two days before the NASA hiring process.
I exhaled slowly, pushing my chair back. The wooden frame creaked beneath me.
The tests in the library? They seemed like child's play now. I knew I was ready. I wasn't just relying on my skills anymore—I had the knowledge to back it up. This time, there would be no luck involved.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
For the first time in nearly a month, I let myself breathe.
But as I sat there in silence, a different thought settled in the back of my mind.
I had been so focused—so obsessed—that I had barely spoken to Sienna or Camille.
The thought made my stomach twist.
It wasn't like they hadn't tried to talk to me.
At least once a day, one of them would knock on my door. Sometimes it was Sienna, her voice calm but questioning.
"Rey, you good in there?"
Other times, it was Camille, significantly less calm.
"If I don't hear movement in the next five seconds, I'm breaking this door down."
And then there was that one time I heard them arguing outside.
"He's not dead, Sienna."
"Then what if he wants to be? We should at least slide food under the door or something!"
Despite all of that, I barely responded. A grunt here. A vague "I'm fine" there. Nothing more.
I had locked myself away, barely acknowledging their presence.
Slowly, I stood up. The motion felt strange—like I had been frozen in place for too long, only now realizing I could move. I reached for the door and twisted the handle.
Light flooded my vision.
I squinted, momentarily stunned by how bright the world outside my office seemed. Had it always been this vibrant? Or had I just spent too much time in the dim glow of my desk lamp?
Before I could even process it, movement caught my eye.
Camille and Sienna shot up from the couch, their expressions shifting from surprise to concern in an instant.
"Rey!" Sienna was the first to speak, practically jumping over the armrest. "Are you ok? Do you even know how long you've been in there?"
Sienna stood beside her, arms crossed, brow furrowed. "You've been locked in that office for so long I was starting to think we'd have to drag you out."
I stared at them, blinking slowly.
No, not just worried. They were hurt.
I had shut them out completely.
A strange feeling settled in my chest—one I rarely acknowledged. Guilt.
I lifted a hand, placing it on their heads before either of them could protest.
Neither of them moved.
Camille narrowed her eyes. "Okay, weird reaction, but whatever. Now tell us—what the hell were you doing in there for a month?"
Sienna nodded. "And don't say 'studying.' I understand studying, but this was—" she gestured vaguely at me, "—a hermit transformation."
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
The answer was obvious. The training, the books, the skills—I had been preparing.
For the hiring process.
I felt the color drain from my face.
My hand was still resting on their heads when the realization struck, and it must have shown on my face because Camille's eyes narrowed further.
"Wait," she said slowly. "What did you forget to tell us?"
I hesitated. Considered my options. Then, finally, I spoke.
"...You love me, right?"
Camille grabbed a pillow and swung.