When giants clash, bystanders suffer.
The F2 and F3 drivers were left reeling in the vortex of paddock politics. Formula 1, however, had no time to spare for the noise outside. Inside the pit lane, crew members bustled back and forth without a moment to catch their breath. Fans were speculating endlessly, and everyone inside the paddock was doing the exact same thing.
Was this all a smokescreen?
If not, had Ferrari's SF90 truly exploited a loophole to transform into an untouchable spaceship? Had this happened before or after Mercedes-Benz caught wind of their potential breach, and could the FIA actually halt Ferrari's charge? Did Ferrari's current speed advantage have anything to do with Mercedes-Benz's petition?
If it was a smokescreen, who was behind it?
It was only Free Practice 1. The fastest lap times were nowhere near the limit, sitting roughly two seconds off Spa's track record. That meant every team was holding back. Both Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz could be running smokescreens, deliberately masking their true performance.
What about Red Bull then? Finishing ahead of Mercedes-Benz but behind Ferrari, was Red Bull actually the only honest player among the top three teams?
Endless theories and possibilities swirled like phantom spirits escaping Pandora's box, keeping the intense public debate burning white-hot.
Yet, as the F1 cars took to the track once more, Free Practice 2 got underway.
Ferrari remained completely unfazed. Appearing entirely unbothered by external speculation, they stuck strictly to their own program with laser focus. Their fastest lap times virtually mirrored their FP1 pace, exhibiting minimal variance. That unshakeable posture in the middle of a storm naturally commanded everyone's attention.
Kai once again claimed the fastest lap, topping the timing sheets for Free Practice 2.
Gasps echoed across the pit lane!
People could hardly recall the last time Ferrari had delivered such dominant, consistent pace during Friday practice, showing a completely different face compared to the first half of the season.
For a fleeting moment, memories of Bahrain resurfaced.
Then again, Tifosi did not look back on Bahrain fondly. Although Kai and Leclerc had locked out the front row in qualifying, they ultimately finished third and fifth in the race.
This time, Leclerc placed second.
The gap between Leclerc and Kai had widened slightly to around 0.4 seconds. On paper, they were still in the same tier, but the gap was marginally larger than expected.
So how should this be interpreted?
Was it down to driver preference? Setup variations? A deliberate FP2 strategy? Or was Ferrari starting to throw out smokescreens of their own, quietly executing their grand prix weekend plan while remaining completely immune to external noise?
A deluge of endless speculation flooded every forum and broadcast.
This time, the broader grid dynamics shifted subtly as well.
Hamilton finished third, Bottas fourth.
Verstappen sat fifth, Vettel sixth.
The key takeaway wasn't Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull swapping positions, nor was it Racing Point making a surprise run into the top six. The real story was that everyone's lap times had improved significantly. Hamilton trailed Kai by less than 0.6 seconds, while Verstappen brought his deficit to Kai within the 0.8-second mark.
In fact, Vettel was only 0.9 seconds off Kai's pace.
Purely from the timing sheets, 0.6 and 0.8 seconds remained substantial gaps, representing a considerable mountain to climb. FP2 had once again showcased Ferrari's undeniable form.
However, with the fastest lap of FP2 still sitting two seconds off the Spa track record, there was plenty of room for interpretation.
One could argue that Ferrari was the only team laying all their cards on the table, methodically gathering data and building their strategy without playing mind games. Their rivals, on the other hand, were clearly holding back. Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull had far more performance left in reserve.
In FP2, Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull had likely assumed Ferrari would step up their pace and push the car harder, prompting them to dial up their own lap times slightly. They hadn't expected Ferrari to maintain such a steady rhythm, resulting in a sudden narrowing of the gap.
Just like that, the seemingly insurmountable gap from FP1 lost its credibility. Whether the difference was one second or 0.6 seconds, none of the numbers could be taken at face value.
It seemed the entire scenario was a setup, with teams led by Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull joining forces to push Ferrari into the spotlight and leave them exposed.
Of course, Mercedes-Benz wasn't deliberately driving slow enough to ruin their own weekend; they were still competing for a championship. Their FP2 adjustments proved they were following a precise development plan. They simply hadn't unleashed their full potential during practice, strategically allowing Ferrari to take center stage and drawing further scrutiny toward Maranello.
The result?
No one could have predicted that the cunning strategists at Ferrari would one day be seen as the straightforward ones, executing their plan step by step while inadvertently exposing their rivals' subtle tactics.
The situation turned delicate in an instant.
"Looks like Mercedes-Benz is desperately trying to convict Ferrari."
"They tried to make Ferrari look guilty, only to expose their own anxiety."
"To drag Ferrari down, these teams are really resorting to anything."
"What happened to competitive integrity? The legitimacy of that appeal needs a serious second look now."
"Come on Mercedes-Benz, just admit it. Are you actually scared of Ferrari?"
The noise grew louder and more turbulent by the minute. Public opinion, which had initially leaned heavily behind Mercedes-Benz, began showing cracks as dissenting voices emerged.
Mercedes-Benz fans sensed the danger immediately. A narrative they had comfortably controlled was veering off course, and they were not about to let it spread without a fight. One by one, supporters stepped up to defend their team.
"Cheating!"
To Mercedes-Benz fans, smokescreens were secondary. The undeniable fact sitting on the timing boards was that Kai had topped both practice sessions.
Looking back at the 2019 season, Ferrari certainly possessed strong race pace, but the SF90 had consistently lacked that final edge in qualifying. Its performance was erratic at best. The pole position in Bahrain had felt more like a glorious anomaly than a sustainable trend, exposing a clear weakness in single-lap speed.
Yet here was Ferrari, suddenly standing firm and demonstrating remarkable stability and dominance throughout practice.
Absurd!
Cheating was the only logical explanation! Ferrari's sheer pace at Spa was the ultimate proof that the Prancing Horse's power unit was breaching regulations!
"The evidence is right there in the open. Is the FIA really going to keep turning a blind eye?"
"The mask is off! They can't hide it anymore!"
Mercedes-Benz fans mounted a furious campaign, trying to shake off the "witch hunt" label and frame their crusade as a noble pursuit of justice.
Toxic discourse exploded across social media overnight. It was obvious that a coordinated push was driving the sudden surge.
The internet often possessed the memory of a goldfish, retaining information for barely seven seconds before completely forgetting what transpired. Yet at other times, its memory was terrifyingly sharp, stored permanently on servers where past statements could be unearthed in seconds.
Before practice began, Mercedes-Benz fans insisted Ferrari wouldn't dare break the rules in plain sight, predicting their performance at Spa would collapse and prove their guilt. They claimed Ferrari had to deliver a dominant performance just to prove the allegations were baseless.
After two practice sessions, those same fans were whining that Ferrari's strong performance was nothing more than an elaborate deception.
Double standards and blatant hypocrisy were common enough, but this level of mental gymnastics, moving the goalposts and reversing logic without a shred of shame, was a rare spectacle. No matter what happened, Mercedes-Benz was painted as the ultimate victim while everyone else plotted against them.
...
"Please, get your story straight! Watching the Silver Arrows fanbase go through this mental gymnastics is painful. Is Ferrari supposed to perform well or poorly?"
"Your arguments aren't even landing. Mercedes-Benz, please get your story straight internally first. This is getting embarrassing."
"Cheating! Ferrari is blatantly cheating!"
"The entire paddock is distracted with hidden agendas right now. Nobody is focused on racing, and qualifying and the race are going to be a complete mess."
"Do the Tifosi still need proof? Is the evidence in front of your eyes not enough?"
"Even with the entire grid stacked against Ferrari, I genuinely believe Ferrari is the only team fighting fair on track. Is that crazy?"
"Ferrari has lost their minds! Cheating right under everyone's noses, is it shamelessness or relying on the FIA as a shield?"
"I think Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull are up to something. Ferrari might actually be the victim of paddock politics here. Am I the only one seeing this?"
"Can someone explain what Hamilton fans are making a fuss about? It is literally just Friday practice, why is everyone losing their minds?"
"As a neutral Tifosi, I can objectively say this current Ferrari squad looks like the most stable and resolute team I've seen in a decade. Their composure under pressure is surprisingly convincing."
"Wake up! All of you, wake up! The evidence is clear, Ferrari is guilty! Seven teams united to file a petition, do you really need more proof than that? Don't be fooled by Kai's innocent face, he is a wolf in sheep's clothing!"
"This is probably the most composed I've ever seen the Tifosi."
The world seemed to be turning upside down.
That was the state of the paddock following the summer break. Opening any social media platform revealed a wall-to-wall flood of Formula 1 discourse. Motorsport had rarely seen this level of raw engagement. North American fans who had been drawn in by Kai's recent trip were treated to an incredible show right out of the gate, witnessing a blend of sport, entertainment, athletics, and deep political maneuvering that rivaled the biggest scandals in European football.
Sensational, aggressive comments flooded screens endlessly. Devices grew hot to the touch, as if the fierce debate might burst through the display at any moment.
"Charles!"
A call rang out. Leclerc's right hand rested on his hotel room door handle as he snapped his head up, spotting Hubert stepping out into the corridor.
The chaotic noise in his head ebbed away like a receding tide, allowing Leclerc to finally regain a measure of composure.
Hubert had just woken up as well, getting ready to head to the paddock. It was Saturday, and the F2 feature race was scheduled for the afternoon, running right after F1 qualifying. "What are you staring at? I called your name twice and you didn't even hear me." Hubert noticed the dark circles under Leclerc's eyes. "Charles, are you alright?"
Leclerc waved a hand, wanting to say he was fine. But looking into Hubert's clear eyes, standing before the childhood friend he had grown up with, he couldn't help letting out a sharp curse in French.
Hubert blinked, taken aback. "What happened?" He caught on almost immediately. "Twitter?"
Leclerc let out a heavy sigh.
Hubert shook his head. "Kai told us not to look at social media. It only brings misery."
Leclerc took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to. I know. I just... when I woke up, I instinctively scrolled through it..."
Hubert nodded understandingly. "And then you couldn't stop, right?" A gentle, warm smile broke across Hubert's face. "Charles, you're going to be fine. I believe in you."
Leclerc paused, looking at Hubert. He wanted to explain that although racing was fundamentally about managing pressure, he had never felt a weight this suffocating in his entire life. It had built up over the summer break without a single moment of relief, and it was still intensifying.
This was only the second time he had experienced this specific type of emotion. The first had been when Jules Bianchi suffered his tragic accident at Suzuka, and now, here he was feeling it again.
When his father, Herve, passed away, Leclerc's mind had been driven by an overwhelming urge to prove himself and fulfill their shared dream. But when Bianchi died, an ocean of anxiety and confusion had crashed over him, marking the first time he looked at racing and his dreams through a hauntingly different lens.
Today marked the second time.
Fear? Anxiety? Urgency? Perhaps a mixture of all three. It was simply... chaos.
Yet, he couldn't share any of these thoughts with Hubert. A single careless slip could leak sensitive information, so Leclerc swallowed his words back down.
Hubert seemed to sense Leclerc's hesitation. Instead of prying, he offered simple encouragement. "Just be yourself. You've always known what to do, especially on the track."
Those straightforward words carried immense trust, helping settle the lingering turbulence in Leclerc's mind.
Hubert glanced up and down the hallway. "Where's Kai?"
Leclerc took a deep, steadying breath. "I don't know. He probably headed to the paddock already. He's always earlier than me—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the adjacent door swung open. Kai emerged with a messy bedhead and a exhausted expression, letting out a massive yawn. His eyes were barely open, and he held a skateboard in his hand, looking as though he might drop it at any second.
He shut his hotel room door, taking a full two seconds to register the figures standing in the corridor. "Morning..." he managed, before breaking into another yawn.
Leclerc looked at him in surprise. "You're only getting up now? I thought you left ages ago."
Kai waved a hand dismissively. "I was going through data late into the night. We still have a ton of parameters to test in FP3."
Even though Kai didn't elaborate, Leclerc understood instantly. For this major Spa upgrade, the amount of data waiting to be validated on the SF90 was staggering.
During Friday's practice sessions, it wasn't that Ferrari was trying to play the noble saint; they simply lacked the time and energy to play political games against rival teams. They hadn't anticipated Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull holding back pace to leave Ferrari exposed under the spotlight. Once the tactic became obvious, Franck and Penny wanted to strike back, but Kai had carefully weighed the situation and talked them out of it.
Rather than wasting energy on political maneuvering, it was far better to stay focused on their own program.
Besides, by remaining steadfast and unchanging, Ferrari's grounded approach would naturally force their rivals' mind games into the open.
That principle held true today. Heading into FP3 before qualifying, the mountain of work ahead of them remained immense.
A pang of guilt crossed Leclerc's face. "Take your time waking up. I'll head over first. You've already uploaded the analyzed data, right?"
With a quick glance at Kai, Leclerc turned and sprinted down the hall. Seeing that the elevator was taking too long, he pushed open the stairwell door and clattered down the steps at full speed.
Having just woken up, Kai's reaction time was a beat slow. He watched the stairwell door swing back and forth. "Running ahead isn't going to save him much time anyway."
Hubert pressed his lips together, fighting back a smile. "It's about the attitude. The effort counts."
Kai stretched lazily. "Then I'll slow my pace down a bit and give Charles a thirty-second head start to show some attitude. Otherwise, if we run into each other in the lobby after he ran down the stairs, it's going to be awkward."
Pfft!
Hubert couldn't contain his laughter.
Kai glanced at Hubert, looking as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately held his tongue.
Hubert caught the look. "What is it? Is something wrong? Speak freely, I like your blunt honesty."
Kai replied, "Is that why George gets worked up every time you speak?"
Hubert tried his best to hold back a chuckle, attempting to stay polite and refrain from poking fun at others.
Looking at Hubert, whose cheeks were flushed red from holding back his laughter, Kai hesitated. Thoughts raced through his mind. He told himself it was just a bad dream, nothing to get worked up about.
Yet after a brief pause, another thought took hold. Staying silent and walking on eggshells around the subject felt like treating a nightmare like Voldemort, which only confirmed his underlying anxiety.
Fear fed on darkness. Ignoring it, burying it, or trying to forget it never truly resolved anything; it simply lingered beneath the surface. Confronting fear directly didn't guarantee an easy solution either, as not every fear came with an immediate answer. Nevertheless, facing it directly was the essential first step toward true freedom.
With that thought, Kai looked back at Hubert and finally spoke. "Antoine, if driving a race car meant facing genuine life-threatening danger, would you stop?"
The moment the words left his lips, a fraction of the heavy pressure weighing on his chest seemed to lift.
...
The pressure had been mounting steadily. Kai hadn't enjoyed a proper night's sleep in over a month.
In Los Angeles, he had averaged barely two or three hours of sleep a night, and that grueling schedule continued upon his return to Monaco. To prepare for the high-stakes weekend at Spa, his mind had been running at maximum capacity. The constant strain caused his energy to swing violently between exhaustion and hyper-focus, leaving him utterly drained. Even when he managed to fall asleep, his rest was far from peaceful, filled with strange, vivid dreams night after night.
Usually, those fragmented dreams vanished the moment he woke up, leaving behind only a faint lingering heaviness that faded once he threw himself back into his work.
Today, however, was different. Even after washing up, a specific dream from the previous night remained vividly clear, circling persistently in his mind.
In the dream, he was competing in a race, driving the number 22 Ferrari at full speed through Spa. It felt like the main grand prix. As he exited Raidillon and accelerated onto the straight, the elevation change and blind crest restricted his line of sight, hiding a car sitting just ahead.
The other car appeared to have spun, losing control and failing to gather speed, leaving it stranded directly across the track on the exit of the turn. To avoid a catastrophic T-bone collision, his instincts kicked in, and he snapped the steering wheel sideways.
Unfortunately, traveling at over two hundred kilometers per hour, the car's response was a fraction of a second too slow, and the two machines clipped each other hard.
The world went blurry in an instant.
Impact, rotation, flight. He completely lost track of how many times the car flipped through the air as the world dissolved into pure chaos, with nothing but the deafening roar of wind rushing past his ears. By the time his senses returned, the car had smashed violently into the barrier, sending debris flying everywhere before coming to rest as a mangled heap of twisted metal by the side of the track.
Worse still, the cars trailing close behind suffered from the same blind crest coming out of Raidillon, unable to see the destruction in time, crashing brutally into the wreckage one after another.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
His chest tightened, his world shattered, and his entire body felt engulfed in flames, burning toward ash.
The next moment, he realized he wasn't trapped inside the car. He was standing safely beside the track, completely unharmed. He couldn't tell if it was an illusion or an out-of-body experience, but his eyes instinctively darted toward the point of impact. The burning wreck was unrecognizable, bearing little resemblance to a Ferrari.
Reflexively, he assumed the machine had simply been demolished beyond recognition, but a closer look at the scattered carbon fiber revealed the fragments were not painted Ferrari red.
Judging by the broken chassis pieces, it was... the number 19 Arden.
Furthermore, the surrounding cars caught in the multi-car pileup did not belong to the F1 grid. Their unfamiliar liveries were impossible to identify in the chaos. Wreckage piled high across the tarmac, surrounded by thick black smoke and roaring flames. The world fell deathly silent, with no marshals or medical crews rushing forward.
It felt as though the world was simply letting everything burn to nothing.
Terror and helplessness gripped his heart. A cold shiver ran from his feet to the crown of his head. He tried to take a step forward, to get closer to the crash, only to feel an invisible abyss opening beneath the track, grabbing his ankles and slowly pulling him down. No matter how wildly he struggled, he couldn't break free, and panic took hold.
Standing alone by the track, he turned back to look at the grandstands. He could see a dense crowd of spectators, yet none of them had faces, appearing only as featureless, hollow figures. Despair pulled his heart downward as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Medical crew! Medical crew!"
Yet his desperate cries produced only empty echoes. No one responded, and no help arrived. Everything seemed frozen in time, letting the pile of wreckage burn unchecked until it turned to ash, with not a single driver crawling out from the ruins.
That suffocating terror gripped Kai's heart with iron claws.
He kept screaming, struggling wildly to wake the faceless figures behind him, until he suddenly bolted upright in bed, waking from the nightmare. That was when Kai realized his clothes were completely soaked in sweat, and he was sitting in the dark, gasping for air.
His racing heart felt ready to burst.
Outside the window, dawn was breaking, casting a soft blue glow across the room as faint golden light began to filter through. He realized the night was over and morning had arrived. The nightmare receded as the light filled the room, dissolving into the fading darkness.
Kai kept reassuring himself that it was just a dream, a meaningless nightmare, and there was no reason to terrify himself over illusions.
Besides, as the old saying went, dreams often represented the opposite of reality, and a nightmare might simply herald good news. Perhaps it was an omen that Ferrari was destined to conquer Spa.
Yet after taking a shower and staring into the fogged-up bathroom mirror, the haunting scene from his dream flashed across his mind once more, bringing a sudden wave of chilling clarity.
Arden! Number 19!
That was Hubert's car.
The realization struck his mind like a bolt of lightning. A sudden chill shot up his spine, sending goosebumps cascading across his arms and back. His body tensed involuntarily as a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts collided in his head, turning his stomach and bringing a wave of nausea.
Kai splashed cold water over his face, forcing himself to calm down. He tried to push those disturbing thoughts aside and regain his focus. FP3 demanded his absolute attention, and they could not afford to be distracted.
Focus!
He had to stay focused!
Gathering his thoughts, Kai reclaimed his usual composure, pushing the nightmare aside to concentrate on the demanding Saturday schedule ahead.
Yet standing before Hubert now, those lingering thoughts resurfaced with vivid clarity, flashing through his mind.
Should he tell Hubert?
Even if he laid it all out, what did he expect Hubert to do? Withdraw from the Belgian Grand Prix on the spot based on a bad dream?
Hesitating and overthinking was not in Kai's nature.
Facing fear head-on, breaking through obstacles, and charging forward had always been his way. Standing before fear, one either conquered it or was consumed by it. Running away would only allow fear to fester into a permanent nightmare. Taking a brave step forward was the only way through.
Ultimately, Kai chose to speak.
Despite Kai's hesitation, Hubert answered without a second of delay. "No."
The answer was so decisive that Kai paused mid-step.
Noticing Kai's sudden pause, Hubert looked back with a puzzled expression. "What's wrong?"
Kai shook his head, carefully choosing his words. "I mean, Charles had that massive crash last season, and the HALO saved his life."
Hubert looked back, a gentle smile still resting on his lips. "That wasn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last, right? The moment we climb into that cockpit and drive onto the track, we know we are dancing on the edge, pushing boundaries to feel the absolute limit of speed."
"The price we pay is walking a high wire where a single misstep can mean disaster."
"But that is the beauty of racing, and that is the meaning of life, isn't it? Like fireworks, burning bright and exploding with complete energy in a single brilliant moment, not to drive away the dark, but simply to burn as brightly as possible."
"The value of life isn't measured by its length, but by its depth and breadth. We all know how the story ends. From the moment we are born, the destination is already set. No one escapes the final outcome, but we get to choose how we walk the path to get there."
He paused briefly.
Hubert's eyes brightened, reflecting a quiet, luminous intensity.
"Kai, I've admired you since our days in GP3."
"You are free, and you are fearless. You are always pushing limits and chasing perfection. People try to tie you down with traditional definitions using Ferrari, championships, and massive contracts, but I know you remain entirely true to yourself. You stay on track simply to chase the ultimate limit."
"Just like Icarus."
The person standing before him felt almost unfamiliar.
In Kai's memory, Hubert had always been reserved, soft-spoken, and slightly introverted, only showing his playful, witty side around close friends. Even when their group gathered together, Hubert was never the loudest voice in the room.
Yet quietness did not mean a lack of fire. Inside Hubert's modest frame, a flame burned steadily, radiating quiet energy.
Simply standing before him, one could feel that warmth clearly.
Anyone who underestimated Hubert based on his quiet demeanor would come to regret it, just like those who had underestimated a rookie entering the paddock years ago.
Kai blinked, breaking into a sudden laugh. "Icarus? The ancient Greek youth who flew toward the sun on wings made of wax? Antoine, if memory serves, the sun melted his wings and he plunged straight into the sea. That isn't exactly a happy ending."
Hubert let out a soft laugh. "True. But that didn't stop you either, did it?"
The smile on Kai's face softened as he looked quietly at Hubert.
Hubert felt a bit self-conscious under Kai's gaze, but he didn't look away, keeping his focus steady. "We all understand how dangerous Formula 1 is. Every time we head out on track, it's a gamble, yet we charge forward without hesitation."
"We keep chasing the absolute limit of speed, reaching out to embrace the sun until our time runs out."
"Kai, we are all chasing the sun, trying to explore the limits of life."
His heart beat steadily.
Kai looked at Hubert in silence. Although he had known him for over two years, it felt as though he was seeing this side of Hubert for the very first time today.
Kai and Russell had both made their way into F1. Hubert might not have been hailed as a generational prodigy, and he was still honing his craft in F2, but that hardly meant he lacked passion or belief. He was chasing them in his own grounded, methodical way, chasing the sun on his own terms.
This time, Hubert didn't avert his eyes, meeting Kai's gaze with quiet resolve.
"I want to become a driver like you. I want to fight you on track, even if I'm driving a Williams and you're in a Ferrari."
Pfft.
Kai couldn't hold back a sudden burst of laughter. "Are you serious? Williams?"
Hubert finally flushed with embarrassment, scratching his head awkwardly. "Okay, fine, Williams might be a stretch. Let's say Renault then. If it's a Renault, I can definitely make a fight of it."
"So, even if I knew heading out there carried genuine risk, I would still charge forward without second thoughts. It's the only way I can feel the pulse of life. Kai, remember what you once said? When speed reaches its absolute limit, it feels like touching the pulse of freedom itself."
"I think that's what living is all about."
Awkward, shy, and humble—still the same modest guy.
Yet in this moment, an unmistakable light shone from Hubert, pure and radiant, burning quietly. Even though he knew he was standing before Kai, a World Champion and a generational talent who had transformed the paddock, he didn't back down an inch.
In fact, precisely because it was Kai, Hubert's competitive spirit burned all the brighter, his eyes shining with clear hope.
A hundred thoughts rushed to Kai's throat, but in the end, he swallowed them back down, offering a warm smile. "I'll be waiting for you on track."
He paused, then added with a grin, "You said it yourself, Williams versus Ferrari."
Hubert chuckled softly, rubbing his head as he realized how ambitious that sounded. "How about this then? You drive the Williams, and I'll take the Ferrari. How does that sound?"
"Antoine!" Kai gasped dramatically. "I had no idea you were like this!"
The elevator arrived, and the two stepped inside.
Kai could feel Hubert's curious gaze on him. Even though Hubert hadn't asked, Kai knew his earlier question had sounded out of place.
How could he explain it anyway?
Distract Hubert right before a race weekend with a bad dream? Hubert was in peak form, eager to prove himself, and dropping a strange warning would only plant a seed of doubt, causing an unnecessary distraction.
No, he couldn't do that.
"I had a nightmare last night. Dreamt I slapped the wall hard, got trapped inside, and woke up right before I could climb out," Kai explained simply.
Hubert looked at Kai in surprise. That explained it! Kai had looked exhausted this morning, and now the pieces fit together. "I didn't think someone like you got nightmares like that."
Kai rolled his eyes. "I'm human too. I dream just like anyone else. Did you think I was an alien?"
Hubert smiled warmly. "Kai, of all the drivers I've met, you are the most composed, fearless, and sharpest of them all. No matter what crazy scenario comes up, you always find a way through. So you don't need to worry. All you need to do is keep being Kai."
"I still remember the first time you ran practice at Spa. Regardless of what anyone thought, you went out there and immediately challenged the three-hundred-kilometer-per-hour limit. The entire paddock was speechless, haha! To put it bluntly, you're a lunatic. To put it nicely, you're still a lunatic."
Kai nodded with absolute seriousness. "I completely agree. But if you plan on beating me while driving a Williams, you've got a lot of work ahead of you."
Hubert threw his hands up in mock protest, standing on his tiptoes. "Renault! I said Renault!"
"Antoine, I get what you're saying, but let's not copy Icarus. Falling out of the sky sounds way too dangerous."
"What should we copy then? Sisyphus?"
"The guy who pushes a boulder up a hill forever? No way, Antoine. Greek mythology is way too tragic. We need a comedy."
"Shakespeare?"
"How about 'Let the storm rage on'?"
"Wait, isn't that... Hemingway?"
"Haha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Laughter filled the elevator as they joked around, completely clearing away the lingering dark shadows of the nightmare. The fatigue and strain of the past few weeks dissolved in that shared laughter, leaving them feeling light and energized. When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, Kai and Hubert walked out still laughing, only to run right into...
Huff... huff...
A completely breathless Leclerc passed right in front of them, his knees giving out slightly as he came to a sudden halt. Dripping with sweat and red-faced from running down the stairs, he turned around, only to see the elevator doors glide open to reveal Hubert and Kai standing there in all their glory. Both of them were trying desperately to keep straight faces, though their twitching lips completely gave them away.
They stared at each other in total silence.
The world seemed to freeze for a second.
"Argh!"
Leclerc let out a high-pitched screech like a startled pterodactyl, turning on his heel and bolting out of the hotel lobby like he had just seen a ghost.
Kai and Hubert exchanged a single glance before completely losing control, clutching their stomachs as they collapsed into uncontrollable laughter like a pair of madmen.
Guests and staff moving through the lobby watched Leclerc's vanishing figure, then looked at Kai and Hubert doubled over in tears of laughter, completely unconcerned with their public image. Within minutes, word reached the paddock:
Ferrari's young stars were completely unfazed, showing outstanding spirits.
It was obvious that amidst the mounting pressure and political storm, Ferrari's drivers were exhibiting remarkable composure. The two young stars lacked any of the nervous energy or reckless impatience expected of their age, standing entirely firm against the tide.
Was that truly a surprise?
Thinking back, it really shouldn't have been. Kai had already proven his unshakeable resolve last season, and adding Leclerc to the mix made their rock-solid demeanor all the more natural.
Still, that didn't stop rival teams from pushing forward with their relentless campaign.
The siege was far from over.