F4. It was the most basic simulator mode in the academy: standardized cars, uniform tires, fixed settings.
Within that rigid framework, improving a lap time was notoriously difficult. Gaining two-tenths of a second required relentless refinement.
Yet, Konrad Schäfer, through ten laps of exploration, ten of probing, and ten of pushing, had improved the record by over six-tenths?
And he had done it in under an hour, transforming from a fumbling novice to a driver carving extreme lap times.
It was counter-intuitive. It defied all standard training models and statistical data.
"Never touched a Formula car?" The thought flashed through Montfatini's mind, his first instinct being that this was an elaborate ruse.
From every angle, Konrad should not be a novice.
But racing was a small world. While there were countless amateur enthusiasts globally, 'financial power' was the gatekeeper to the professional realm. Only about two thousand five hundred people made it through the karting ranks into the professional feeder series.
A German face from a mechanic's background was an extreme rarity.
It was impossible for the scouting network to have missed a talent like Konrad.
More importantly, Montfatini, like everyone else, had just witnessed Konrad's rookie-level start and his transformative learning process. The evidence was undeniable.
Montfatini's certainty wavered. "How… how did he just do that?"
Leclerc watched Konrad, a competitive fire igniting in his eyes, his blood heating. He wanted to get in the simulator right then and answer the challenge.
He knew the record itself was almost meaningless. No one in the academy took the F4 lap record seriously. The drivers' focus was on F3, F2, and F1 programs. F4 was an entry-level tool, its ultimate lap time irrelevant. No one spent their days trying to perfect it.
But that was precisely what highlighted the significance. Konrad wasn't pursuing a record; he didn't even know where the "value" in this system was supposed to lie. He was simply following an instinct—an instinct to push the car to its limit, lap after lap, until he found the edge.
This wasn't training or a test. It was an expression. The pure, instinctive expression of a racer.
Uncontrollably, Leclerc felt the urge to push an F4 car himself, not just to compete with Konrad, but to reconnect with that raw feeling.
Todt remained silent.
His gaze was fixed on Konrad, his arms crossed as he slipped into a deep thought, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile at the corner of his mouth.
He had seen many drivers' "first times." Some were impatient, some timid, some passionate but hollow, some whose potential was immediately visible.
Todt wouldn't arrogantly claim omniscience, but he had seen countless drivers. And someone like Konrad, who built order from chaos, extracted rhythm from instability, and completed a self-evolution in minutes based on pure intuition and will…
He couldn't recall a second one.
Last night on the Roman streets, Todt had seen echoes of other drivers in Konrad. Today, those notions were overturned. Konrad was entirely his own phenomenon.
In recent years, Todt had been removed from the front lines. Though still active in the sport, his battles were fought in boardrooms, his opponents spreadsheets and political maneuvering. He hadn't expected a simple trip to Maranello would reawaken this fundamental passion.
It turned out he still loved racing.
Involuntarily, Todt glanced at Marchionne, only to find his old friend equally captivated, his eyes alight. Todt allowed himself a quiet chuckle.
Marchionne didn't notice; he was processing what he had just seen in business terms.
He was a businessman. He didn't have Todt's eye for talent or Montfatini's ability to read data. He understood return on investment and identifying valuable assets.
And what he had just witnessed was the most efficient asset appreciation he had ever seen. A raw, unrefined driver, with zero prior investment from Ferrari, had just exponentially increased his own value in thirty minutes. He hadn't just learned; he had reverse-engineered the problem and dominated it.
Other drivers found speed through aggressive, high-risk moves. Konrad had built his speed systematically, like solving an equation. That methodical, intelligent approach to a high-pressure problem was what truly caught Marchionne's attention. That was a mindset you couldn't teach.
Shock, confusion, surprise—all these emotions collided, reaching a peak that paradoxically resulted in a numb silence. The observers were lost in their own thoughts, temporarily unable to react.
Finally, Konrad stopped of his own accord.
He had found the car's limit, and his own, for now. Circling aimlessly for minuscule gains held no more challenge.
He unstrapped himself and climbed out.
Emerging from his state of deep immersion, his brain and body briefly desynchronized. His knees felt weak, his steps unsteady. The world swam in a blur of color. He instinctively grabbed the simulator's frame to steady himself.
Though it was just a simulator, and just an F4 car, the physiological load was real. Nearly an hour of maximum concentration and effort had drained him. He hadn't noticed while driving, but now he felt his clothes were soaked with sweat. The sustained adrenaline was fading, leaving a raw, burning sensation in his nerves. His palms still tingled with the ghost of the steering wheel's vibration. He couldn't help but glance back at the screen.
He took a deep breath, reorienting himself to the real world. The intensity of the session left him feeling hollowed out, but also deeply satisfied.
He scanned the room, finding only silent, staring faces. No one seemed prepared to speak. So he took the initiative, his voice quiet but steady, betraying his physical exhaustion but not a trace of disrespect.
"That was... more demanding than I expected. Is there anything else you need from me today?"