After dozens of reloads and retakes, I had memorized every question and its corresponding answer. I returned to point one—the exact moment I had told the kids to wait. I shook my head, feigning exhaustion.
The exam consisted of a written test covering political, economic, and social issues, followed by a crisis management test that presented various situational dilemmas.
To an adult mind, one might wonder what could be difficult about a test designed for children between the ages of 7 and 15. But do not be misled. I had warned you: the Papiope talent training center is where the empire’s geniuses congregate. These were problems curated specifically for such minds to solve.
But I am no genius. I am merely a commoner born with a fraudulent ability. Honestly, aside from having lived a bit longer than my peers, I could claim no particular intellectual superiority. If it had been a subjective written test, I would have been in grave danger—but since it was all multiple-choice, I had easily secured the answers through save-and-load.
As I exhaled, Raspi looked at me, puzzled. “You said you were going to go, but what is suddenly so difficult?”
I shrugged nonchalantly, feigning ignorance. “Well, Raspi, since you wanted to go so badly, I’ll let you.”
“Pardon? You clearly said just a moment ago that we needed to steal the information…”
“Oh, that. Come to think of it, I don’t think I need to.”
I didn’t, because I had already solved it.
“From now on, I will tell you the answers I learned through my clairvoyance. Memorize them all and write them down in order on your papers.”
I curled one corner of my mouth. A cheat sheet was obvious, but surely they could memorize that much. Right?
✦ ✦ ✦
“Tania-nim, you may enter Examination Hall 1.”
I rose from the waiting seat and glanced back at Raspi once. We had already completed the written exam immediately after registering; I had simply marked the numbers we had memorized. I’d given them the answers so that Raspi would barely pass, while Rosemary would secure a high score, ensuring no one suspected our results were identical.
Now, Raspi needed to excel in the ability rank and crisis management assessments.
“Raspi, you remember everything I told you, right?”
He stared at me, his face full of anxiety. “Honestly, I still don’t know if my sister and I can pass a place like this.”
“Don’t worry. Even if you’re nervous and mess up, it’s fine. Just do it comfortably.”
“…Thank you for the comfort.”
It was the truth—it was fine even if they failed. If they did, I could simply turn back time as much as I wanted. But there was no reason for the siblings to fail.
“Then, I’ll be going.”
As I opened the door and stepped inside, the three proctors for the ability rank assessment looked at me in unison. The Papiope talent training center operates 365 days a year, meaning these proctors weren’t here permanently; they had been pulled away from other duties. I wasn’t a particularly welcome presence, so building rapport was crucial. I smiled broadly and met their eyes one by one.
When I stood before them, the proctor on the far left spoke up. “You checked that you are an awakened Abilitator on the registration form. But you left the section for your specific ability blank.”
“Yes. I thought it would be better to tell you in person.”
Had I written ‘clairvoyance’ on the form, the expectations would have been suffocatingly high from the start. It was better to drop the bomb when they least expected it.
The proctor asked with a listless, robotic gaze. “What kind of ability is it?”
“I can glimpse the near future. I can also see the distant future, though the probability is low and the vision is blurry.”
For an instant, the air in the room went still. The proctors, whose faces had been set in stern, indifferent lines, suddenly jumped from their seats, firing a barrage of questions.
“My goodness! Do you mean the ‘clairvoyance’ ability that can foresee specific points in the future?”
“An Abilitator with clairvoyance—that is unprecedented!”
“Tania-yang, you aren’t a noble who defected from another country, are you?”
“If you are not a foreign noble, you will be a great strength to Papiope. Clairvoyance!”
I leisurely pulled up the corner of my mouth. Yes, the reactions of the people I had met until now had been overly static. *This* was the proper reaction.
The proctors eventually regained their composure. “No, no. First, we must verify the extent to which you can manifest this ability.”
“That’s right. Clairvoyance is a powerful gift, but its utility varies greatly depending on the strength of the user.”
I prepared the explanation I had held back, fearing they might be bored. Abilities are shared among those who carry the power—the more people there are with the same talent, the weaker each individual becomes. It was the difference between eating a pie alone or sharing it with a dozen people. The size of the pie varied from person to person, but it was certain that scarcity bred strength.
Abilities are hereditary, which is why noble families strictly managed their lineages to keep their power from leaking—leading to the monopoly of abilities becoming a major social issue. That was why they suspected I was a foreign defector. In our country, the Lagrass Empire, no family possessed the power of clairvoyance.
The lead judge cleared his throat, perhaps self-conscious about his previous outburst. “Ahem! Tania-yang, how far into the future can you see?”
“Within a maximum of one month. I can foresee a much more distant future, but… I don’t usually do that.”
“Why?”
“Because I use my lifespan as a medium. Seeing a distant future significantly shortens my life.”
“Ah…”
A collective sigh of lamentation drifted from the proctors. Many abilities came with heavy side effects. I had absolutely no side effects, but I was lying on purpose; I needed an excuse to deflect when asked about a future I hadn’t seen.
“Besides, the distant future has too many variables. Things can change drastically with even the most minute shift.”
It was the classic butterfly effect. When I mentioned the difficulty of predicting the distant future, disappointment flickered in their eyes again. But I hadn’t yet played the card that would force them to value my utility.
“However… natural disasters like earthquakes or floods are fixed points. They do not change.”
“……!”
They exchanged silent, shocked glances. It seemed like a perspective they hadn’t considered. It was understandable; people usually only thought of using clairvoyance to amass personal fortunes.
“I understand what you are trying to say. Despite your age, your understanding of your own ability is quite high.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
As I bowed, their eyes filled with satisfaction.
“Then, may I understand that the closer the future, the higher the accuracy?”
“Yes. I can see anything that happens within 10 seconds with almost no cost to my lifespan.”
“Then, how will you prove you truly possess this ability?”
“Ah, I’ve never lost a game of rock-paper-scissors. Would you like to challenge me?”
There was no simpler or clearer way to prove it.
“Rock-paper-scissors…?”
“Haha, good! That is an interesting method.”
The proctors, initially bewildered, readily agreed, likely amused by the simplicity of a child’s game. I chuckled like a devil, already looking forward to the bitter taste of defeat I was about to serve them.