Chapter 92.
While Symboli Rudolf and the others back in Japan were already sketching out the grand scale of the upcoming Japan Cup, Shuta and Teio stood on the podium at Longchamp, waiting for the award presenters.
Following tradition, the Chairman of the French URA Association was slated to present the trophies. Dominique, despite his deep frustration over his failure to derail Shuta An and Tokai Teio's victory, dutifully stepped up to fulfill his role.
Today was the crown jewel of the French Twinkle Series calendar. If he threw a tantrum on international television, his career as Chairman would be over before the sun set.
Before stepping fully into the spotlight, Dominique looked at the young trainer and forced himself to swallow the bitter resentment pooling in his chest. He could not afford to lose his composure in front of the cameras.
From the podium, Shuta An observed Dominique's approach with a polite, perfectly practiced smile. The Chairman's expression was currently a mask of professional calm, but Shuta An knew exactly how fragile that mask was. He suspected it would only take a few precise words to crack it.
As the ceremony officially commenced, Dominique stepped up and presented the medals and the legendary Arc trophy to Shuta An and Tokai Teio.
As he leaned in to shake the young man's hand for the cameras, Dominique murmured smoothly,
"Congratulations, Mr. Shuta. As the winning Trainer of this year's Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, do you have a special request you would like to see fulfilled?"
This question was a time-honored tradition at the Arc award ceremony. In past years, winning trainers had always played along cooperatively, making reasonable requests like minor logistical favors or facility access. Dominique asked the question purely out of obligation, expecting Shuta An to ask for expedited reimbursement of his expedition expenses or something equally mundane.
The young man disappointed him.
Shuta An's smile deepened slightly, and he delivered his answer without a second of hesitation.
"I want my grandmother's remains relocated to the Panthéon."
Most of the audience wouldn't have understood the context, but Dominique knew exactly who Shuta An was referring to.
His professional smile froze.
"I apologize, but the Panthéon is strictly reserved for France's most esteemed cultural and historical figures."
Dominique countered quietly, maintaining his grip on Shuta An's hand.
"Please do not make things difficult, Mr. Shuta. You know perfectly well that relocating someone to the Panthéon is vastly beyond my authority. Not even the President of the Republic could grant that on a whim."
"I am aware." Shuta An interrupted, his voice dropping to a cool, level pitch. "I know you can't authorize it, and I know it won't happen. So, allow me to state my actual demand directly: release my grandmother's coffin to me, and I will move her to America."
Dominique frowned, genuine displeasure leaking through his facade. Theoretically, he did have the administrative authority to release the remains—but only theoretically.
The other URA Association executives would fiercely oppose it.
Sea-Bird's coffin was currently concealed by the Association within the Paris Tracen Academy. Her body, having undergone specialized preservation, was kept in a restricted section of the academy's museum, serving as a macabre idol for the local Uma Musumes to "revere."
"Elder Sea-Bird's remains receive the utmost respect and care here in France."
Dominique whispered back sharply.
"You operate out of Japan, Mr. Shuta. If she were shipped to America, she would not receive the same level of veneration she enjoys here."
"I'm sorry, but compared to your Association, I trust Secretariat's judgment significantly more."
Shuta An shook his head, his tone uncompromising.
"This is the true reason Teio and I came to conquer the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. I am cashing in this victory so my grandmother can finally rest in peace, far away from this place."
Dominique's face darkened.
"I do not appreciate your implication, Mr. Shuta. Are you suggesting that Elder Sea-Bird cannot find peace in the country she loved, the land to which she dedicated her entire Twinkle Series career?"
The tension radiating between the two men was becoming palpable. Nearby photographers and officials were starting to notice the strained atmosphere on the podium.
"Ahem."
The Chairman's secretary, standing a few feet away, coughed sharply—a subtle warning to Dominique not to ruin the broadcast.
"We will discuss this in private."
Dominique muttered, abruptly ending the standoff. He turned toward the cameras, instantly flashing a brilliant, utterly flawless smile.
Wow, what a master of changing faces.
Tokai Teio noted to herself, keeping her own radiant smile fixed for the press.
Once the public ceremony concluded, Tokai Teio was escorted away to prepare for her Winning Live performance. Shuta An, however, was led to the highest executive box at Longchamp, where he and Dominique were finally left alone behind closed doors.
"I still do not understand your hostility, Mr. Shuta. I am confident our URA Association has done nothing to offend you."
Dominique began, abandoning his smile. He sat on a plush sofa, unable to hide his defensive posture as he watched the young man calmly sip a cup of tea.
"Is that so? Slashing our reimbursement stipend to a fraction of the standard European rate shouldn't count as an offense?" Shuta An lowered his teacup, tilting his head slightly. "Systematically lying to my mother about what actually happened to my grandmother—I suppose that shouldn't count either?"
He pushed the teacup forward onto the glass table, his dark eyes locking onto Dominique with an icy intensity.
"Denying my grandmother eternal rest, keeping her locked in the Paris Tracen Academy like a taxidermy exhibit for a bunch of ignorant students to gawk at—you genuinely believe none of that counts as an offense?"
By the time Shuta An finished speaking, a cold sweat had broken out across Dominique's forehead.
He couldn't understand it. He was facing an ordinary human being, yet the sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from the young man felt remarkably similar to the aura of a furious, elite Uma Musume like Miesque.
"My demand is simple, and it is non-negotiable." Shuta An said, standing up from his chair. "As Sea-Bird's sole remaining blood relative in this world, I have the absolute legal and moral right to claim her."
The young man turned his back, preparing to head down to the stage to watch Tokai Teio's performance. Just before his hand touched the doorknob, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.
"I have gathered quite a few interesting stories about the internal workings of your Association. For instance, your sudden track maintenance directives this week." Shuta An noted mildly. "When I run into my British colleagues next, I imagine they would be absolutely fascinated to hear about them."
Dominique froze.
The memory of his petty, desperate order to soak the Longchamp turf hit him like a physical blow. The sweat on his forehead beaded thicker. If the British racing authorities—or the global press—found out the French URA Chairman had deliberately sabotaged the Arc track to spite a Japanese trainer, the resulting scandal would destroy him.
"I... I can agree to the transfer!" Dominique stammered, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to control it. "But the executive board will never approve it!"
"That is irrelevant. As long as you give the official Chairman's authorization." Shuta An replied, waving a hand dismissively without turning around. "I have my own methods for dealing with the rest of your board."
Opening the door, the young man offered one final, polite smile to the Chairman slumped on the sofa.
"Do not worry, Dominique. Let me collect my grandmother, and I promise you and I will never have to cross paths again."