This time around, I didn't rush to spin the wheel. I simply stood there and looked at it for a long while, taking in every detail of its surface. At one point, I even called out to it, half expecting some kind of reaction, though none came.
Watching the wheel was an experience in itself, something that felt separate from anything I had known before. There was a strange gravity to it, a presence that made the air around it feel heavier. Standing before it, I felt impossibly small, the way I imagine people feel the first time they see the ocean, or the way an astronaut must feel looking down at the earth from space.
I stepped closer to the lever, which stood right in front of me, waiting. Hovering just beneath it, glowing faintly, were the words [1 Spin Available]
The text wasn't etched onto the lever or painted on any surface nearby. It simply floated there in the air, as if the world itself had decided to display it for my eyes alone.
Without hesitating any longer, I reached out and pulled the lever down. At once, the massive wheel groaned back to life and began to spin. Within moments it was already rotating at a blinding speed, the individual segments blurring into streaks of color. I could do nothing but stand there, mesmerized, my eyes locked on it as if nothing else in the world existed.
I couldn't say how long it kept spinning. Time seemed to lose its meaning in that place, stretching and folding in on itself. Eventually, though, the wheel began to slow, its motion softening until it finally came to a complete stop.
There, resting beneath the pointer, was my new ability. It turned out to be a skill, and it was surprisingly underwhelming for all the flair.
[Skill: Mechanic Level 50]
[Author's Note: This skill will not level up on its own. Its level is fixed unless another copy is drawn through the gacha. It was pulled from a random gamer in a random world.]
I wasn't sure whether I should be pleased with such an ordinary-looking skill, especially after receiving Will Hunting's intelligence in the previous draw. Still, it didn't cost me anything, so I had no real grounds to complain. There was no customer support here, no option to request a refund or exchange it for something else.
I reminded myself that I had wanted a way to earn money, and being a car mechanic could genuinely help with that. Maybe I could take in old, rundown vehicles, restore them properly, and sell them again for a solid profit. The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me.
I was starting to feel at peace with the skill when something caught my attention. Beneath its name, it clearly read Level 50, and yet that number wasn't even the maximum. Curiosity took over, and I wanted to understand exactly what this skill could do.
The moment I focused on it in my mind, its full list of effects appeared instantly, laid out clearly, almost like text displayed on a game screen waiting to be read. I was genuinely stunned by the length of the list in front of me.
[Skill: Mechanic Level 50]
Reverse-Engineering Vision: When you look at an object, you no longer see just a toaster or a car sitting there. Instead, you see its exploded-view CAD schematics, the exact points of material stress, and the invisible flow of energy running through every part of it.
Intuitive Troubleshooting: You instantly know why an engine is failing, whether from the particular pitch of its hum or the faintest trace of a scent drifting from the exhaust.
Repair and Restore: Any vehicle parts can be repaired or restored by drawing on the host's stamina, with the cost varying depending on the level of damage and the skill's own level. Pushing this ability too hard results in physical exhaustion, bloodshot eyes, and a severe caloric deficit.
Appraisal: You can learn everything about a vehicle simply by making contact with it, including its history, its current market value, and what it would be worth once properly repaired. This also reveals whether the vehicle was obtained legally or illegally.
Enhancement: Every vehicle you repair receives a passive ten percent boost to efficiency.(Passive)
You can also spend stamina to push this further, (+0.2×Level)% of efficiency/10% of stamina. That means I get 1% efficiency on 1% stamina expended.(Active)
Durability Enhancement: Any tool or equipment used while working under this skill becomes far more durable than normal. A wrench you use won't bend under pressure, and an engine you modify won't overheat, even when pushed well past its redline.
Hyper-Dexterity: Your hands move with a kind of robotic precision that leaves no room for error. There are no wasted movements, no dropped screws, and no hesitation in your motions. You could draw or cut a perfectly straight line for as long as you wanted, without your hand ever wavering.
My jaw dropped as I finished reading through the entire list. This skill carried a kind of magic in it, especially with the repair and restore effect sitting right at its core. But unlike the kind of powers I had read about in stories, this one didn't run on mana. It ran on my own stamina as fuel.
I wanted to know just how far its abilities could truly stretch. I could enhance almost anything now, given enough time and stamina. After going through every single effect in detail, I realized this skill was in no way inferior to Will Hunting's intelligence, even if it had seemed unimpressive at first glance.
I glanced back at the lever, and beneath it, new text had appeared, reading [90 Days Cooldown]. I let out a slow sigh and forced myself to accept that it was time to wake from this dream. Being inside that space had felt strange the entire time, like existing inside a dream while somehow still knowing it was one. Normally, that kind of realization would jolt a person awake immediately, but this time it hadn't. I only woke once I had used my spin.
___
I sat up in bed and glanced over at my alarm clock. It read six o'clock. It seemed I had missed today's workout window entirely.
The moment I was fully awake, I didn't even bother changing out of my pajamas. I climbed out of bed and walked straight out to the driveway, drawn toward Dad's truck like it was the only thing that mattered.
I pressed my palm flat against the hood and willed myself to use Appraisal on it, half expecting nothing to happen at all. Since it still felt like a dream.
"Oh man, this is unreal," I muttered under my breath. "Almost like a superpower."
A three-dimensional, hologram of the truck bloomed into existence right in front of my eyes, and it began analyzing every inch of the truck almost instantly. Each component peeled open in layers, one after another, like something straight out of a science fiction movie. It didn't feel real. It felt like I was standing inside a game.
Along the right side of the hologram floated a column of information about the truck itself. It listed the current owner, the model number, and the vehicle's present market value, all updating in real time as I looked closer. Beneath that came the mileage, the truck's age, and a full breakdown of exactly what it needed.
According to the display, this was a 1984 Ford F150, currently sitting at just under ninety-two thousand miles on the odometer. Dad's truck was in decent shape overall. It didn't need anything drastic, just a normal round of servicing to keep it running well for years to come.
The moment I actually thought about the servicing itself, a complete step-by-step process for fine-tuning the engine dropped into my head almost instantly, as clear as if someone had handed me a manual. The feeling that came with it was honestly incredible.
After that, I walked over and did the exact same thing with Mom's car, a 1980s Mercury Colony Park station wagon parked further down the driveway. Sure enough, the same hologram interface appeared, laying out every last detail about it just as clearly as it had for the truck.
I noticed a small scratch near the back taillights. I placed my hand over the mark, focusing my thoughts on restoring it. There was no flashy display of light, just a faint sensation of energy flowing out through my palm. When I pulled my hand back a few seconds later, the scratch had vanished, and the paint looked brand new.
Had I not known the side effects of this ability, I would have completely missed the subtle heaviness settling into my limbs.
The experience felt entirely magical because it was, yet I must ensure nobody discovers this secret. I could explain my sudden intelligence, but explaining this is impossible. Only Mom would believe me if I said Jesus gave me this. Otherwise, I will likely end up in some laboratory as a test subject. Who wants that?
Anyways moving on from depressing stuff. I felt genuinely excited for what today might bring. For the first time, I had an actual plan for how I was going to make money going forward. I would buy up old cars, restore them properly using my skill, and then sell them for a profit.
Because of the Enhancement effect, the cars I restored would end up performing better than they normally would after a standard repair job. If I understood it correctly, that efficiency boost would translate into real improvements in speed and overall performance, which meant I could reasonably charge customers more for the work.
Now all I needed to do was buy a car.
I went inside the house and found Mom already in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready.
"Good morning, Mom," I said, still in a good mood from everything that had just happened.
"You seem happy today," she said, glancing over at me. I wasn't much of a morning person most days, so my mood clearly caught her off guard.
"Yes, I am. I know what I'm going to do over the next few days now," I told her.
She already knew about the job Georgie and I had been doing, painting house numbers on curbs around the neighborhood, and she knew we were planning to stop doing it soon. The problem was that Georgie had gone and blabbed to mom and dad about how much money we were making, then turned around and splurged on things like new sneakers, candy, and even talked us into getting cable installed. I had told him not to, but the damage was already done, and it had set Mom off in the worst way.
She had been fine with us working, right up until she found out exactly how much we were actually earning. After that, we had a whole fight about it. She didn't want us continuing the work purely for money, going on about something out of the Bible and the sin of greed. I couldn't help but think about the hypocrisy of it all.
"What?" she asked, cracking eggs into a bowl to scramble for my breakfast.
"Cars," I said, taking a sip of my milk.
"What do you mean, cars?" she asked, pausing mid-motion.
"Buy them. Restore them. Sell them again," I said. I hadn't really planned on telling her yet, but if I wanted the garage to myself, I figured I'd have to say something eventually.
"You don't know anything about that kind of work, Charlie. I want you to focus on learning and going to school. You have your whole life ahead of you to work. Don't do this now, Charlie," she said firmly.
Oh man, why did she always have to be like this? I understood where she was coming from, but she also knew perfectly well that I was capable of handling things on my own. And she definitely knew that whenever she refused me something without a solid reason, I tended to go ahead and do it anyway.
"Mom, I'll be fine, don't worry," I told her, but she kept right on trying to talk me out of the idea. Eventually, I just smiled and told her I had only been thinking about it and probably wouldn't actually do it, mostly just to get her off my back for the time being.
I already knew she'd go straight to Dad afterward to tell on me. Now I finally understood exactly where Sheldon picked up that particular habit.
After finishing breakfast, I got up from the table and headed to Georgie's room. He was still fast asleep. I opened the door without bothering to knock.
"Hey! Get up, Sleeping Beauty," I called out. He groggily cracked one eye open, glanced at the clock, and then rolled back over the second he realized it was just me.
"Go away, Charlie. There's still time," he mumbled, clearly annoyed, though I couldn't have cared less.
"How much money do you still have?" I asked him.
"Four hundred something," he slurred, still half asleep.
I did the math quickly in my head. Between the five hundred and fifty I had saved, plus another hundred and thirty-seven left over from the supply fund, plus Georgie's four hundred, that put us at a solid total.
"That makes it one thousand eighty-seven dollars," I said, mostly to myself, though Georgie heard it loud and clear. It was going to be a tight budget, but it was something to work with.
"Hey, hey, hey. Why are you counting my money?" Georgie shot up in bed, suddenly wide awake.
Now I actually had to explain to him what exactly we were about to do.