The usually composed ex-assassin was momentarily stunned after hearing about the disastrous experience of the two dejected men. His mouth hung open in shock. "You guys…"
John struggled to keep his laughter in check, but his face twisted as he tried to suppress it. He simply couldn't believe that these two, who had been so full of confidence, had managed to make such an absurd blunder.
This wasn't just funny—it was beyond comprehension.
After all the effort, manpower, resources, and money they had poured into building this state-of-the-art simulator, they only now realized they had no ability to actually use it?
John could understand the problem the chubby kid had described. After all, being a top expert in his own field, he knew the frustration of trying to operate high-end equipment with only beginner-level skills. It was like giving a tactical, fully-kitted HK-416 rifle to someone who had just learned how to hold a handgun—they wouldn't even know how to adjust the fire selector.
But he had never expected such an oversight from these two, especially after the unshakable confidence they had displayed.
Ever since John had first called Castle for help in his revenge mission, he had always seen the man as a cunning strategist. Yet, the person standing in front of him now looked nothing like the ambitious, self-assured figure from before.
Luckily, the little girl in John's arms found Castle's unusual flight suit fascinating. Babbling excitedly, she stretched out her arms for her godfather to hold her. The moment was enough to snap Castle out of his gloom. Handing his flight helmet to the chubby kid, he reached out and took the squirming girl from John's arms. Leading the way, he gestured for John and the sulking chubby kid to follow him toward the main house of his estate.
As they walked, Castle finally spoke, glancing at John, whose face was twitching with the effort to hold back laughter. "Go ahead and laugh. I was so caught up with that simulator that I completely lost my head. At least Harry managed to get his fighter jet off the ground before crashing. I picked an F-14, and I couldn't even take off before crashing straight onto the runway…"
John finally burst out laughing. "Are you guys trying to kill me with laughter?
"Rick, I might not have flown a fighter jet before, but I've piloted small planes a few times. Even civilian aircraft require proper training. Where did you get the idea that you could just jump in and fly a jet?
"Wait, why didn't we realize this sooner?
"If this thing is as realistic as you claim, then obviously neither of you had the skills to handle it from the start!"
John's words hit the nail on the head—why hadn't anyone questioned this before? The answer was simple: Castle's history of success had blinded everyone around him. People had come to expect that whatever he set his mind to, he would inevitably succeed.
But this time, everyone—Castle, the chubby kid, and even their friends—had fallen into a common trap. Just because Castle had no trouble designing and building the simulator didn't mean he could actually use it.
Developing the technology and operating it were two entirely different skill sets.
Yet, Castle's track record had led them all to overlook this crucial fact.
And so, despite possessing the most advanced flight simulator in the world, two fully grown men could do nothing but stare at it in frustration.
Thankfully, the solution was simple. Castle might not have received a convenient system reward for "Elite Fighter Pilot Skills" this time, but in a country like the U.S., small private planes were everywhere, and learning to fly one was easy.
Given Castle's system-enhanced physique and learning ability, it wouldn't take more than a few days for him to master basic takeoff and landing.
Most importantly, he had money. He might not be able to fly like a real fighter pilot, but he could definitely get his flying dream off the ground.
Of course, his earlier fantasies—soaring through the sky in an F-14, executing complex maneuvers, and performing low-altitude passes like Tom Cruise in Top Gun—were completely out of the question.
Setting the little girl down, Castle let her play with the ridiculously expensive flight helmet the chubby kid was holding. Seeing how quickly Castle had shaken off his earlier frustration, John couldn't help but be impressed by the man's ability to adjust his mindset.
"I'm planning to take Harry to MacArthur Airport this afternoon to find a flight instructor. We'll start with propeller planes and get used to takeoffs and landings first. Then we'll come back and try the simulator again."
Castle said this while playing with the little girl, then looked at John. "Want to join us? Flying is fun, and you've got nothing going on right now. We can even bring little Onona along."
Surprisingly, the suggestion intrigued John. His wife had been completely focused on her career lately, leaving him to handle childcare. Maybe he really should find something to do for himself.
And honestly—what man didn't dream of flying? Even a retired assassin had a flight dream buried somewhere in his heart.
Easily swayed by Castle's well-crafted sales pitch, John didn't hesitate long before agreeing.
But Castle didn't stop there.
After convincing John, he called in Big Ivan. "Hey, we're signing up for flight training this afternoon. Want in?
"Oh, and ask your guys too. Anyone who's interested, let's go as a group."
A billionaire offering to personally pay for him and his team to learn how to fly?
Big Ivan had no reason to refuse. Back in his Russian special forces days, he had learned to fly helicopters—mostly transport choppers—but never fixed-wing aircraft. After checking with his men, he found six volunteers.
With Castle, John, and the chubby kid, that made a nice round total of ten people.
After a quick lunch, they piled into four vehicles and followed their boss—who was once again on one of his crazy whims—straight to MacArthur Airport, located less than five kilometers from Castle's estate.
The airport administrator nearly had a heart attack when a group of towering, intimidating men marched in. But after hearing Castle's request, he could only laugh in disbelief.
Who the hell signed up for flight school as a group?
And all ten of them?
Still, the administrator was sharp enough to recognize that Castle and John weren't ordinary customers. Owning estates just five kilometers north of the airport meant they were very wealthy individuals.
MacArthur Airport primarily catered to the island's elite—housing their private jets, facilitating business flights, and offering aviation training services.
Once it was confirmed that the airport did offer flight lessons, Castle wasted no time. With a wave of his hand, he signed up all ten people—except for the tiny girl, of course.
The airport's flight training department quickly put together a private beginner's class just for them, starting with basic aviation theory that same afternoon.
The goal? To get these VIPs flying as fast as possible.
As for pilot licenses?
That was secondary.
Castle made it clear: while Big Ivan and his men needed proper flight training and certification, he, John, and the chubby kid had different priorities.
They weren't here for licenses—they were here to learn just enough to enjoy their simulator.
So, for them, theoretical lessons would be minimized, and hands-on flying would be prioritized.
In the U.S., rules and regulations could be strict—but only if you didn't have the right connections or enough money.
And for someone like Castle?
Rules had loopholes.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.