At the racetrack, the AOI team's pit station was bustling with activity.
Technicians were busy fine-tuning their machines, preparing for tomorrow's free practice session.
Aoi Kyouko, heiress of AOI Corp and team principal of the AOI racing team, stood watching.
Since the beginning, she had only one goal—defeat their biggest rival, Team SUGO.
But as long as Hayato Kazami was still racing, AOI could never claim the throne.
Despite AOI pouring in massive resources and having two elite drivers—Bleed Kaga and Shinjou Naoki—victory remained out of reach.
The pressure on her shoulders was enormous.
Across the paddock, the pit that originally belonged to Otomo had now been converted into a sleek blue-and-black garage for Leon.
The doors were shut tight—no movement, no sound.
Compared to the hustle of all the other pit crews, Leon's station felt cold, empty… almost eerie.
"Ugh. A random American thinks he can challenge our nation's CF racers?" Aoi Kyouko sneered.
"How laughable."
She brushed a perfectly styled lock of hair behind her ear, her voice dripping with arrogance.
"As long as Kaga and Shinjou are here, the championship is ours."
Kaga—a prodigy with striking green hair—heard her and laughed.
"Someone told me he came here on a public bus. That's hilarious."
For a professional driver, nothing is more humiliating than the joke that you arrived by bus to the track.
Of course, it was nonsense.
Leon had already sent Diomas to the airport using the system—he could drive the masterpiece out the moment he landed.
But Randall, consumed by jealousy, had been spreading lies, slander, and every possible insult to discredit Leon.
So the rumor twisted into:
Leon took a city bus to the CF circuit.
Shinjou Naoki scoffed as he glanced at Leon's silent garage.
"Don't worry. He won't be any real competition."
He spoke casually, almost bored.
"His whole team isn't even here yet. He's already doomed."
Formula racing—whether traditional or high-tech—required entire teams to support a driver.
Engineers monitoring live telemetry,
Pit crews swapping tires in under five seconds,
Technicians adjusting hundreds of settings…
At least two crew members per tire,
Dozens of staff across the pit,
Every second painstakingly optimized.
Meanwhile, Leon's garage?
Still empty.
"Amateurs will always be amateurs." Shinjou smirked.
"He's already far behind. Even if he works all night, he can't catch up."
Tuning, testing, inspection, calibration…
The countless tasks required before racing simply couldn't be rushed.
And if the team didn't rest?
Fatigue during the race could cause mistakes—dangerous ones.
"To put it bluntly, he has zero chance," Shinjou concluded.
Aoi Kyouko didn't even consider Leon a competitor anymore.
Randall's Side
At the United Team's pit, Randall gleefully stared at Leon's closed garage.
No crew.
No sound.
No movement.
"So arrogant toward me? Hmph… I'll make you regret it," he hissed.
Thinking about how Mia had shyly looked at Leon earlier twisted a knife in his heart.
He felt as though Leon had stolen his woman.
Just then, George, the old butler, pushed over a gold-plated tea cart.
"Master, your afternoon tea," he said gently, pouring Randall a cup of red tea.
"Master's insight is unmatched. That guy will definitely choke tomorrow," George praised smoothly.
An experienced butler who had survived decades in a wealthy family wasn't an ordinary person.
His flattering words hit exactly the right tone— respectful without sounding fake.
Randall sipped his tea, satisfied.
"Hmph. An American dares act cocky on our soil? Disgraceful."
If Leon were another Japanese driver, Randall wouldn't care.
But Leon was representing America.
For Randall, losing on home turf to a foreigner would be shameful.
So he used dirty tricks to disrupt Leon's focus.
A rattled driver loses ability.
A driver with shaken composure loses races.
Schneider Team
On another side of the paddock, Franz, Schneider Team's top driver and team owner, was reviewing his data.
He'd raced 81 times, won 8 championships, and taken pole position once.
Not a superstar—
but a precise, flawless driver known as:
"The Machine of the Circuit."
He had already heard all about Leon.
And like everyone else… he didn't believe Leon had a chance.
"A street racer from the U.S. entering CF? What a joke," Franz sneered.
"Does he think a modified street car is anything like a formula machine?"
No manual shifter,
No traditional ignition,
Completely different handling dynamics.
"F1 cars are faster than supercars. This is common knowledge. Maybe that's why he still hasn't shown up," Franz mocked.
Behind him, Lisa, the team's fiery red-haired second driver, laughed.
She had raced multiple categories and had only recently shaken off the nickname "Queen of DNFs."
Her talent was finally being recognized.
"Just wait," Franz smirked.
"He's going to fail. Miserably."
Team after team joined in,
mocking Leon,
belittling him,
convinced they were about to witness a spectacular public humiliation.
In their eyes, the outcome was already decided:
Leon would lose.
Badly.
~~----------------------
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