Hunger.
Konrad hadn't expected to be this hungry, his stomach growling audibly despite the breakfast he'd eaten just hours ago. He now regretted not finishing that pizza he'd been so dismissive of.
With the simulator test over, his mind turned to logistics. Should he travel back to Rome for his flight, or would it be easier to have Lorenzo rebook him from the closer Milan airport? And before leaving Maranello, should he give Italian food one more, proper chance?
Marchionne's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "I think the next steps should be the physical and psychological assessments."
All eyes instantly shifted to Marchionne.
Physical and psychological tests meant the Ferrari Driver Academy was considering an exceptional admission. This was the final stage of the formal evaluation.
Clearly, the morning's surprises weren't over.
Not just Montfatini and Leclerc, but even Todt glanced at Marchionne, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Konrad processed the new demand. Physical tests? That meant they were seriously considering him. The goalposts had moved, and that was a good sign. He had nothing to lose by continuing, and potentially everything to gain. He met Todt's gaze, his expression not one of complaint, but of calm assessment.
Todt read his look and gave a slight, reassuring nod. "Consider it the next phase of the tryout. It won't take long."
Konrad simply returned the nod. "Understood." He was here to prove his worth, and that meant following their process.
But he was genuinely starving. Could he get some food before the next tests?
Just then, a figure appeared beside him, somewhat awkwardly extending his right hand. In his palm was a small piece of chocolate.
Konrad looked over and met a pair of slightly hesitant, light green eyes.
It was Leclerc.
Konrad's direct gaze made Leclerc even more reserved. Socializing wasn't his forte, but he took a breath and pushed through. "You might need the energy. The simulator... it looks simple, but it drains you. I think... you might... I always keep some with me..."
His words grew fragmented as he received no immediate response.
"Thank you," Konrad said, graciously accepting the chocolate. "My stomach is louder than the engine right now. You must have heard it."
He unwrapped the chocolate and ate it.
Leclerc didn't respond to the small joke, instead turning his gaze back to the simulator screen. "Do you mind if I watch the replay?"
Konrad waved a hand, his mouth full. "Of course not. That's what the recording is for, right?"
Leclerc's attention was completely captured by the screen. His innate sensitivity to speed took over, his curiosity overwhelming his shyness. He even seemed to forget the presence of Todt and Marchionne. "In that last complex corner, you used the car's inertia, right? I haven't figured out the throttle control for that."
"You can do it too," Konrad said, turning to look at the screen as well, speaking openly. "The key is managing the weight transfer. It's a continuous flow, not a series of separate actions. You can't force it. It's about feeling the balance."
Leclerc's eyes lit up. Immersed in the technical discussion, his speech became faster, more fluent.
Unfortunately, the conversation was cut short as Montfatini interjected. "Konrad. Let's proceed with the physical and psychological evaluations."
Konrad quickly disengaged, giving Leclerc a nod. "Thanks for the chocolate."
Leclerc hesitated, then mustered the courage to say, "...Charles."
Konrad paused, looking at him, confused.
"My name. It's Charles. Charles Leclerc." He paused, worried he wasn't being clear. "It's just... I'm from Monaco, we speak French. In French, it's pronounced 'Charles'."
He'd wanted to correct the "Prince Charming" remark from earlier but hadn't found the right moment. Now that it was out, he immediately wondered if it was too abrupt.
He looked slightly dejected, glancing subtly at Todt and Marchionne before adding softly, "But you can call me Charles. It's fine."
A hint of a smile appeared in Konrad's eyes. He gave a short, understanding nod.
"Konrad," he said. "Konrad Schäfer. It was good to meet you today, Charles."
A genuine smile broke through Leclerc's nervousness.
Konrad turned and caught up with Montfatini, the two of them walking away side-by-side.
Leclerc stood still for a moment, his gaze following the retreating figure. A faint intuition stirred within him—this person might just stay.
He took a deep breath and turned back to the replay, his focus absolute.
Meanwhile, Montfatini was conducting his own assessment, his professional eye analyzing Konrad's physique now that the adrenaline of the simulator had faded.
As they walked, Montfatini's trained eye conducted a silent assessment. The boy had a good frame—lean and athletic, around 178 cm—but he was still growing. That could become a logistical headache down the line if he shot up past 183, forcing a custom chassis.
His weight seemed optimal, though, a natural advantage under the current regulations where every kilo of a lighter driver could be placed as ballast. They were practical concerns, filed away in Montfatini's mind, but not immediate disqualifiers. The raw talent in the simulator outweighed them all.
Konrad's current metrics offered no distinct advantage. It wasn't a deal-breaker, but it was a practical consideration that couldn't be ignored.
The initial excitement was settling. Montfatini's mind was now coolly evaluating these hard facts.
But these were problems for the "big bosses" to worry about. His job was execution.
Marchionne and Todt watched Konrad leave, exchanging a knowing glance.
Marchionne smiled. "Jean, let's return to the office. The next tests will take some time."
It was time for a private discussion.