April 23.
Morning arrived slowly over the Principality of Monaco, sunlight spilling across the Mediterranean in a soft, golden wash. The calm didn't last long. It never did during this week.
Because this… was race week.
The Historic Monaco Grand Prix.
Across the city, barriers had already been set. Steel fencing lined the sidewalks. Tire stacks sat in tight clusters at corners that, in any other week, carried tourists and morning commuters.
Now, they carried history.
The Circuit de Monaco had taken shape once again—threading itself through Monte Carlo, La Condamine, and around the harbor like a ribbon pulled tight between buildings and cliffs. It was narrow. Unforgiving. Legendary.
Down below, near one of its most iconic sections—the Grand Hotel Hairpin—stood the Fairmont Monte Carlo, its curved façade overlooking the tightest corner in Formula racing.
And on the third floor…
A quiet balcony.
King Halo leaned against the railing, one arm resting casually atop the cool metal as she looked down at her phone.
Her screen reflected faintly against her eyes.
A photo.
Cobalt Blue Metallic.
The rear end of a car—low, wide, aggressive. The paint shimmered even in the artificial lighting of the workshop it was taken in.
She swiped.
Now the front.
Or what remained of it.
The bumper was gone. Hood removed. The exposed structure revealed raw intent—unfinished, skeletal, purposeful. The front fenders, still unpainted, displayed clean sheets of carbon fiber, matte and intricate.
Not a showpiece.
A weapon still being forged.
She tapped the screen.
The gallery closed, replaced by a conversation thread.
Her eyes scanned over it again, even though she'd already read it more than once.
"The hood and front bumper is already painted, Halo-san. The fenders are off as we speak."
Her reply sat just below it.
"Awesome! So we might expect it in a couple weeks till it's done?"
A pause in the conversation—then:
"Maybe by next week! Sucks that you are not in Japan at the moment. But we'll keep her in storage for ya."
Halo's thumb hovered briefly, then scrolled.
"Sweet! Is it running yet?"
The answer came quickly after that.
"The ECU from PP Performance is on its way back from Baden-Württemberg. Should be here by tomorrow."
Another message followed.
"Still surprised how you got your hands on this and shipped it here to Japan."
Halo's smirk deepened slightly.
Her response:
"Well… it's quite a price I can't refuse. Been a secret to everyone in campus since last year."
She locked the phone.
The screen went dark—but the image stayed in her mind.
That car.
Her second ace.
Not even revealed yet.
The sound of glass sliding broke the silence.
The balcony door opened behind her with a soft mechanical glide.
Footsteps followed.
"Morning to you, Halo."
Symboli Rudolf stepped out first, one hand briefly covering a yawn. Even half-awake, she carried her usual composed presence—though the early hour clearly wasn't her preferred battlefield.
Behind her, Forever Young stepped out into the open air, immediately drawn to the view.
She walked up beside the railing, placing both hands lightly against it.
Then she inhaled.
Deep.
Slow.
The crisp coastal air filled her lungs.
And then—
She exhaled, shoulders easing.
"Man… Monaco is really beautiful during this time of the year."
Below them, the harbor shimmered. Yachts lined the docks like floating mansions. Further up, the circuit curved tightly between buildings, empty for now—but not for long.
King Halo chuckled softly.
"Sure looks like it."
Forever Young turned her head slightly, glancing at Halo.
There was a brief pause—then a small grin.
"I'm planning on getting some coffee. Want something?"
Halo didn't hesitate.
"I'll take a decaf."
Forever Young nodded once, committing it to memory.
Then she shifted her gaze toward Rudolf.
Rudolf met her look with a small, knowing nod.
"I'll take the same as Halo's."
"Alrighty."
Forever Young pushed herself off the railing, turning smoothly as she stepped back inside. The sliding door whispered shut behind her.
The balcony fell quiet again.
But not empty.
Rudolf stepped forward, now standing beside Halo.
For a moment, neither spoke.
They both looked out toward the circuit.
The same track.
Different thoughts.
Rudolf's eyes traced the tight descent toward Sainte Dévote, then up the incline toward Beau Rivage. Calculated. Observing.
Halo's gaze drifted lower.
Toward the hairpin.
Tight.
Slow.
Technical.
A corner where precision mattered more than power.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the railing.
Subtle.
Measured.
Then—
Rudolf spoke.
"You've been checking that quite a lot."
No accusation.
Just observation.
Halo didn't look at her.
A small smirk returned.
"Can you blame me?"
A brief pause.
Then Rudolf's eyes shifted toward her, just slightly.
"Something special?"
Halo finally turned her head.
Her expression—confident.
Quietly proud.
"Let's just say…"
She rested her chin lightly against her hand, eyes glinting.
"…Monaco won't be the only place with something historic running soon."
Rudolf didn't reply immediately.
But the faintest hint of a smile formed.
Because she understood.
Not the details.
But the intent.
And that was enough.
Down below…
The barriers stood ready.
The streets waited.
And somewhere far from Monaco—
An unfinished machine was getting closer to life.
Rudolf's gaze shifted.
Not toward the harbor.
Not toward the circuit.
But toward King Halo.
Because Halo… was looking at her phone again.
Subtle. Casual.
But just enough to catch attention.
Rudolf leaned ever so slightly.
Just a glance.
That was all it took.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then—slowly—
A smirk formed.
"I see you are working on something back in Japan, eh?"
King Halo jolted.
A small, sharp reaction—instinctive.
Her phone disappeared into her pocket almost immediately.
"AH! NO!"
Too fast.
Too defensive.
Rudolf chuckled, folding her arms lightly.
"Don't deny it, Halo. I clearly saw it."
She tilted her head, amused.
"Didn't know you were into supercars."
Halo shifted her weight, just a fraction to the side.
Caught.
Cornered.
"…P-Promise you won't tell anyone?"
Rudolf didn't even hesitate.
A soft laugh escaped her as she raised one hand.
"Of course not."
Then, more firmly—
"I swear."
Halo blinked once.
Studying her.
Measuring the sincerity.
Then she exhaled.
"…Alright then."
She stepped closer, shoulder nearly brushing Rudolf's as she pulled her phone back out.
A quick unlock.
A swipe.
Then she angled the screen toward her.
Rudolf leaned in.
Closer.
Her eyes focused—
And widened instantly.
She looked from the screen… to Halo.
"…Is…"
A finger lifted, pointing at the image.
"Don't tell me it's that car."
Halo nodded once.
Calm.
Certain.
"It is that car."
Rudolf's composure cracked—just slightly.
Her ears dipped.
Her eyes flicked back to the image.
The stripped front end.
The exposed carbon fiber.
The unfinished state.
Recognition hit harder the longer she stared.
"H-How?"
Her voice lowered, almost disbelieving.
"That car was… a total wreck."
Her finger traced the outline of the missing front.
"The whole front end was smashed in."
Halo nodded.
"And the rear left as well."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Rudolf straightened slightly, processing it.
Piecing it together.
"So…"
She glanced back at Halo.
"…of the twenty-five Gemballa Mirage GTs built… from twenty-four remaining…"
A pause.
Her eyes sharpened.
"The only one off the roads… is back?"
Halo nodded again.
A small grin forming.
"Yep."
Then she raised a finger, almost proudly.
"And it's in good hands as well."
Rudolf exhaled through her nose, nodding slowly.
"I'll give you that."
Then, with a faint smirk—
"You are certainly better than that rich junkie that wrecked it in New York."
Halo froze.
Her ears snapped back instantly.
"Huh?!"
She took a step back, placing a hand dramatically against her chest.
"May I remind you—I am a first-rate Umamusume car owner!"
Rudolf laughed, waving a dismissive hand.
"I know, I know. You are indeed a first-rate car owner, Halo."
Halo held the pose for a second longer—
Then broke into laughter, shaking her head.
"Yeah, yeah. I was kidding."
She stepped back into place beside the railing, posture relaxing again.
The moment passed.
But the weight of the reveal lingered.
Halo glanced sideways at Rudolf.
"You think the media will catch on?"
Rudolf didn't need time to think.
"They certainly will… once they track the car down."
Halo smirked, looking back out over the circuit.
"Well… that is, if they can even figure out it's the crashed car."
Rudolf nodded.
"True."
A rebuilt legend wasn't always easy to recognize.
Especially when it returned… better than before.
Knock. Knock.
The sound came from behind them.
Sharp.
Rhythmic.
Halo slipped her phone back into her pocket without a word.
Both of them turned.
Then walked back inside.
The room felt warmer—quieter—compared to the open air outside.
Halo reached the door first, hand wrapping around the handle.
A click.
The door opened.
And immediately—
Voices.
Energy.
In front of them stood the rest of the group.
Forever Young.
Special Week.
Maruzensky.
And Silence Suzuka.
Halo smiled.
"Ah. Nice of you all to join in."
Special Week beamed, stepping forward slightly as she raised a bag in both hands.
"We got breakfast here!"
The bag rustled softly, the faint aroma of fresh food already escaping.
Behind her, Suzuka gently placed a hand on Special Week's shoulder.
"Keep it down a little, eh? Some people might still be asleep."
Special Week immediately shrank a little, blinking.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
"Oh… S-Sorry."
Forever Young stepped forward next, lifting both hands slightly.
Two trays.
Balanced perfectly.
"I also got us our drinks."
Coffee.
Still hot.
Still fresh.
Rudolf stepped aside, allowing them in.
One by one, they entered the room—bringing with them the warmth of conversation, the comfort of routine, and the quiet excitement of the day ahead.
Halo closed the door behind them.
Moments later—
The room had changed completely.
Food was laid out across the table.
Cups were handed out.
Wrappers opened.
The quiet morning transformed into something more alive.
More grounded.
They gathered around.
Not as racers.
Not as competitors.
But as a group.
Sharing breakfast in Monaco.
Before the engines roared.
Before the streets came alive.
Before history repeated itself—
Just outside their window.
Minutes passed.
Breakfast came and went just as quickly as it had arrived—wrappers folded, cups half-empty, the last traces of warmth fading from the table.
The room settled.
Not silent—but calmer.
More focused.
Positions shifted naturally.
Maruzensky and Rudolf took the chairs near the table, both leaning back in their own composed ways. Suzuka and Special Week sat along the edge of the bed—Suzuka relaxed but attentive, Special Week still holding a bit of leftover morning energy. On the opposite side, King Halo and Forever Young occupied the couch, the latter lounging slightly while Halo sat upright, one leg crossed over the other.
Maruzensky tilted her head back against the chair, eyes narrowing playfully.
"So you're telling me…"
She glanced at Halo.
"You bought a car that was wrecked by a rich junkie… and you plan on putting that thing back on the road?"
Special Week immediately raised a finger, as if adding to the argument.
"Isn't that a bit too much for you, Halo-san?"
Halo's eyebrow lifted.
"Too much?"
She scoffed lightly, brushing it off with ease.
"Nothing is too much for me."
Suzuka chuckled from the bed, resting her hands casually on her lap.
"Didn't you, King Halo, spend a load on genuine Rays Nismo LMGT1 wheels for your R32?"
Halo let out a long sigh, leaning back slightly.
"It would've been a great deal… if it came with a fresh set of tires too."
There was a pause.
Then—
Maruzensky nearly choked.
"Wait—wait—wait—"
She leaned forward abruptly, one hand still holding her cup.
"Those wheels didn't come with tires?!"
Halo's eyebrow twitched.
Her ears flicked.
"…Can we move back to the car I'm having fixed?!"
A brief wave of laughter passed through the room.
Suzuka leaned forward slightly now, elbows resting on her knees—her tone shifting just a bit more serious.
"Well… before it was shipped to Japan…"
She looked at Halo directly.
"Was the car at least somewhat repaired?"
Halo nodded.
"It was."
She raised a finger, organizing her thoughts as she explained.
"The chassis was sent to Germany to be straightened and repaired. Both the front and rear took a heavy beating."
A second finger followed.
"The entire suspension set was replaced as well. After that, the wheels were swapped back to standard Carrera GT wheels."
She leaned back slightly.
"The car was then brought back without the fenders, front bumper, rear bumper, and hood… as per the previous owner's request."
Maruzensky shook her head slowly, still trying to picture it.
"Was the car at least running?"
Halo turned toward her and nodded.
"It's running and driving."
Then she shrugged.
"But why drive a rare car without its panels?"
Forever Young, lounging beside her, lifted a hand and made a small sliding motion with her fingers—like moving pieces across a board.
"So then… the owner sold it to you and shipped what he had to Japan?"
Halo nodded again.
"Exactly. Once it arrived, it was taken to a well-known shop my tuner works with."
Maruzensky leaned forward again, clearly invested now.
"So Porsche certified that the whole car is straight? No hidden bends? No structural issues?"
Halo shook her head slightly.
"Not exactly certified in the usual sense."
She crossed her arms loosely.
"What Porsche did was something called a factory re-commission—under request from the previous owner."
The room quieted a little.
Even Suzuka listened more closely now.
"It was meant to straighten the chassis, repair the suspension, overhaul the engine… and prepare the car to receive the Gemballa body panels again."
Halo paused briefly.
"But—because of the owner's request—it wasn't a full re-commission."
Rudolf's eyes narrowed slightly.
"A partial one?"
Halo nodded.
"Right. Fix the damage, get it running and driving, and prepare it for reconstruction."
Maruzensky slowly raised a finger again.
Then pointed it forward.
"Sooo…"
A grin.
"It drives?"
Halo smirked.
"It does."
Special Week perked up again, raising her hand slightly.
"So… is it worth the money you spent on it?"
Halo didn't even hesitate.
"Of course."
She leaned back into the couch, confidence written all over her posture.
"That car was practically a steal given its condition."
Then she added, with a slight tilt of her head—
"The only problem was… the previous owner couldn't find any Gemballa Mirage GT parts."
A pause.
"And couldn't even get in contact with Gemballa themselves."
Rudolf raised an eyebrow.
"Then how did you manage to get those body parts?"
Halo chuckled.
A finger lifted.
"Eishin Flash's dad has a friend who works for Gemballa."
That got a reaction.
Even Suzuka's eyes shifted slightly.
"So I had Eishin pull a few strings through her father."
Halo lowered her hand, a satisfied smirk forming.
"And the rest is history."
A beat.
"Genuine Gemballa Mirage GT parts… straight from Germany."
Maruzensky let out a low whistle.
"…That's not something you just find."
Halo shook her head lightly.
"Nope."
Then she clapped her hands once, shifting the mood.
"Anyway—we're not here in Monaco for no reason."
Her gaze moved toward Suzuka.
A small grin.
"So… Miss Formula One Classic Driver…"
She leaned forward slightly.
"What's the plan today?"
Suzuka chuckled, clearly amused by the title.
"The plan?"
She stood up from the bed, stretching lightly.
"Simple."
A step forward.
"We walk the track."
That alone carried weight.
"But if we can…"
A slight pause.
"…we'll try to visit the McLaren garage."
That got everyone's attention.
Even Maruzensky straightened slightly.
Halo glanced down at herself.
Then around the room.
Everyone was already dressed.
Ready.
She nodded once.
"Well then…"
A confident smile formed.
"Shall we head out?"
The others exchanged glances.
Unspoken agreement passing between them.
Then—
All eyes turned to Suzuka.
She gave a single, calm nod.
"Let's go."
And just like that—
They moved.
Out the door.
Into the halls.
And soon—
Into the streets of Monaco.
Where history waited beneath their feet.
Suzuka pushed herself up from the bed in one smooth motion.
The others followed soon after.
Chairs slid back. Fabric shifted. Footsteps aligned.
Within moments, the room that had been filled with conversation fell quiet again.
They moved out together.
The hallway outside was calm.
Soft lighting. Thick carpets that muted their steps. The faint hum of distant activity carried through the walls—but nothing loud, nothing disruptive.
A stark contrast to what waited outside.
They walked in formation, unhurried but purposeful, until they reached the elevator.
A press of the button.
A soft chime.
Doors opened.
They stepped inside.
The descent was smooth—almost silent. Reflections of the six of them shimmered faintly on the polished metal walls. No one spoke. Not because there was nothing to say… but because something about the moment didn't need words.
The doors opened again.
The lobby of the Fairmont Monte Carlo greeted them with quiet elegance.
Marble floors.
Soft conversations.
The subtle rhythm of footsteps from well-dressed guests moving about their morning routines.
Special Week's ears perked immediately.
Her eyes darted around—taking in the surroundings, the people, the atmosphere.
Then she leaned slightly toward King Halo.
"I'm glad most of the clothes we packed are social outfits…"
She lowered her voice just a bit.
"Nothing low-class for these people."
Halo chuckled, shaking her head.
"It's not like that's a bad thing."
She adjusted her posture slightly, confident as always.
"The reason we packed like this isn't just for show."
A glance around.
"We're not just representing Japan."
Rudolf nodded in agreement.
"King is right."
She looked toward Special Week.
"We're also representing the Umamusume of Japan… and Tracen Academy itself."
That settled it.
Not pressure.
But purpose.
They moved toward the entrance.
Glass doors parted.
And just like that—
Monaco greeted them.
Warmth.
Immediate.
The seaside air carried a mix of salt, sun, and the distant scent of engines warming somewhere beyond sight.
The city was awake now.
Not loud yet—but building.
Maruzensky exhaled, already feeling the heat.
"I should've worn my short-sleeve polo shirt…"
King Halo placed both hands on her hips, scanning the surroundings before turning her gaze toward Suzuka, who had naturally taken the lead.
"So, Miss Formula One…"
A slight grin.
"Where are we?"
Suzuka paused.
She looked around—taking in the road, the barriers, the angle of the slope.
Then she turned back slightly.
"We're at the Grand Hotel Hairpin."
Her hand lifted, pointing ahead.
"That's the way we should head."
Then, slightly downward—
"Down there… that leads to Mirabeau Bas."
The group nodded.
And began walking.
They exited the hotel grounds and stepped onto the sidewalk, following the curve of the circuit itself.
The road here was tight.
Deceptively slow.
The kind of corner where steering input mattered more than speed.
Footsteps echoed lightly against the pavement as they approached Mirabeau Bas.
And then—
Engine.
Low.
Mechanical.
Approaching.
From around the corner—
An icon appeared.
An orange Lamborghini Miura eased into view, its curves catching the morning light as it rolled through the corner with grace.
Maruzensky reacted instantly.
"You see?!"
She pointed, practically lighting up.
"I told you there'd be classics here!"
The Miura passed them slowly, its V12 note subdued but unmistakable.
Maruzensky threw both thumbs up toward the driver.
The driver smiled, lifting a hand in return—and gave a light, cheerful honk.
Maruzensky laughed.
"Always appreciate the classics, my friends."
Rudolf chuckled softly beside her.
"Isn't Suzuka already doing that, Maruzen?"
Maruzensky grinned, glancing toward Suzuka ahead.
"Heh…"
A nod.
"She is."
They kept moving.
Step by step.
Corner by corner.
From Mirabeau Bas, they flowed naturally into Portier Corner—the last slow bend before the circuit opened into something far more deceptive.
Ahead of them—
The tunnel.
The infamous Monaco Tunnel.
Dark.
Fast.
Unforgiving.
Even on foot, it carried presence.
They entered.
The light shifted instantly.
From warm Mediterranean gold…
To artificial glow.
Their footsteps echoed now—sharper, more defined against the enclosed space. The faint hum of distant engines reverberated through the tunnel walls, bouncing endlessly between concrete and steel.
Suzuka glanced upward briefly.
Even without cars flying through at full throttle, you could feel it—
The speed this place demanded.
The margin for error it didn't allow.
They walked along the side, eventually crossing over and continuing toward the exit.
And then—
Light returned.
They emerged beside the harbor.
The bay stretched out beside them, calm and shimmering under the rising sun. Yachts lined the water, their reflections dancing gently against the surface.
Forever Young slowed her pace slightly, her eyes drifting toward the spaces between the support pillars along the path.
She smiled.
"Monaco really is a beautiful place during this time of the month."
Special Week glanced at her.
A thought already forming.
"Is it true then, Yanko-san?"
Forever Young raised an eyebrow, turning slightly.
"Hm?"
Special Week straightened a little as she walked.
"You're heading off to Ascot, UK in June?"
Forever Young nodded without hesitation.
"Yep. The Prince of Wales's Stakes."
A small smile.
"June 17th."
Special Week nodded.
But then—
She looked away for a moment.
Just a second.
As if gathering something.
Then she turned back, more firmly this time.
"I wish you all the best, Yanko-san!"
Forever Young's smile softened.
"Thank you, Spe-chan."
Special Week nodded again, more energetically now.
"Win or lose—always keep your head up high! Don't let anybody doubt you. Not even for a split second!"
Forever Young chuckled lightly.
But there was sincerity behind it.
"I won't, Spe-chan. Not the slightest bit."
Her gaze drifted back toward the sea.
The open horizon.
"Besides…"
A pause.
"I've got you guys at my back."
Her smirk returned.
"And the open road ahead."
A quiet confidence settled in her tone.
"I won't let anyone take that away from me."
Rudolf nodded, approving.
"That's the spirit, Yanko-kun."
Then—
A ringtone cut through the moment.
Sharp.
Distinct.
Rudolf reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone and glancing at the screen.
Her expression shifted slightly.
"…Air Groove?"
She answered and placed it on speaker.
A sigh came through immediately.
Heavy.
Annoyed.
"The entire dormitory was a noisy mess last night."
Rudolf raised an eyebrow.
"Huh?"
The speaker crackled slightly.
"Because Nice Nature's Gallardo quite literally woke up the entire campus!"
That got reactions.
Maruzensky smirked.
Halo glanced over.
Rudolf blinked.
"Did you hear how her car cold starts at all?!"
Rudolf shook her head.
"Not yet… why?"
Air Groove didn't hold back.
"Because it's so damn loud you can't even hear yourself think within its proximity!"
A beat.
Rudolf sighed.
"Then have Nattie install exhaust silencers. Those foam inserts to muffle it."
On the other end—
A sharp tap echoed, like a foot hitting wooden flooring.
"Oh, I'll make her buy it alright…"
A pause.
Then—
"And I'll shove it right up that goddamn tailpi—"
Click.
The call ended abruptly.
Silence.
Then—
Rudolf chuckled under her breath, lowering her phone.
Maruzensky leaned in slightly, clearly amused.
"I guess the Empress doesn't like Nattie's Gallardo much, huh?"
Rudolf shook her head, a faint smile lingering.
"Not a chance in hell."
Around them—
Monaco continued to breathe.
Cars passed in the distance.
Waves lapped gently against the harbor.
And ahead—
More of the circuit awaited.
They moved on from the harbor, the path curving gently as the circuit revealed its next section.
Out of the tunnel.
Into the light.
And down toward the Nouvelle Chicane.
The air shifted again here.
Less enclosed.
More open.
But the danger—
Still present.
Always present.
They slowed as they approached the guardrails lining the chicane. The barriers stood close, tight, unforgiving—paint scuffed in places from years of misjudgment.
Suzuka stepped ahead.
Then stopped.
Right at the apex.
Her eyes traced the entry.
Then the exit.
Then the barrier itself.
Every inch.
Measured.
Calculated.
The rest of the group walked a few steps ahead before noticing she had stopped.
Special Week turned back.
"Suzuka-san?"
Suzuka didn't answer immediately.
Her gaze remained locked.
Quietly, almost under her breath—
"I have to watch the front left here…"
A slight shift in stance.
"…and the rear left too."
Only then did she turn.
She walked back toward them, her usual calm returning.
"Sorry about that. I had to take a closer look."
No one questioned it.
Because they understood.
This wasn't sightseeing for her.
This was preparation.
They continued walking along the sidewalk, moving toward Tabac Corner.
Special Week tilted her head slightly, curiosity getting the better of her.
"What's so special about that corner, Suzuka-san?"
Suzuka glanced ahead, then back at her.
"Because that chicane…"
A brief pause.
"…is very well known for breaking your suspension."
Special Week blinked.
"Even the slightest touch?"
Suzuka nodded.
And began explaining.
"If you turn in too early, you risk clipping the front left wheel—or the front wing."
Her hand gestured lightly, mimicking the motion.
"That alone can end your race. Break the wing, you lose downforce. Snap a suspension rod… and you're done."
She continued, her tone steady.
"Or you clip the rear left instead."
A slight shake of her head.
"Same result. Or worse—you spin, and destroy your rear alignment completely."
The weight of it settled in.
"This track…"
Suzuka looked ahead again.
"…is not forgiving."
A pause.
"That's why we're walking it before tomorrow's free practice."
Rudolf, walking just behind, glanced over.
"Since it's a historic race… cars from the fifties and sixties…"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Which class are you in, Suzuka?"
Suzuka answered immediately.
"Race E Class 1."
A small breath.
"Formula One Grand Prix cars. Three-liter engines. From 1973 to 1976."
Then—
"Most of them run the Ford-Cosworth DFV."
Maruzensky looked back over her shoulder.
"And your car being?"
Suzuka nodded once.
"McLaren M23D."
A faint glint in her eyes.
"1976."
She continued—
"The championship-winning car driven by James Hunt at Fuji Speedway."
Rudolf blinked.
Even she seemed slightly impressed.
"And are these cars anything like the one you drove at Suzuka Circuit last month?"
Suzuka shook her head.
"No."
A beat.
"Completely different."
She began to explain.
"The cars are incredibly narrow."
Her hand traced a thin line in the air.
"The front tires are thin… but the rear tires are wide. Very wide."
She glanced at them.
"That imbalance creates heavy understeer."
Then—
"For setups, you compensate."
A small pause.
"You run more front wing than rear wing."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But that introduces something else."
"Rear oversteer."
Maruzensky's expression shifted.
"Wait…"
She leaned forward slightly as she walked.
"Even with those massive rear tires… it still gets loose?"
Suzuka nodded.
"Very."
She continued.
"Even braking alone is enough to unsettle the rear."
That caught their attention.
King Halo exhaled slowly.
"So that means your usual technique is practically useless."
Suzuka shook her head.
"No."
Then—
A small smirk.
"This is where I use it to my advantage."
The group reacted almost in sync.
"…Huh?"
Suzuka's eyes sharpened slightly.
"By stabbing the throttle mid-corner—near full—I can intentionally loosen the rear."
Her hand mimicked the motion.
"With narrow fronts and wide rears… it lets me rotate the car."
A pause.
"That means I can run more rear wing."
Then—
"Which makes the car… slightly more stable."
Maruzensky's eyebrow shot up.
"The hell do you mean slightly more stable?!"
Suzuka chuckled.
"Even with that setup…"
She shook her head.
"…the car will still be unstable."
Her tone shifted—more serious now.
"Ground effect wasn't really a thing until 1977… 1978."
She looked ahead.
"These cars are light at high speeds."
"Prone to lifting."
"Prone to bouncing."
"And loose… in almost every possible way."
A breath.
"Even if you max out the wing angles."
Maruzensky shook her head in disbelief.
"So what—you're saying the wings are just cosmetic?"
Suzuka tilted her head.
"Not exactly."
A small shrug.
"They still produce downforce."
A beat.
"Just… not nearly as effective as modern cars."
Silence followed for a moment.
Not empty—
But heavy.
Special Week's ears stiffened suddenly.
A familiar feeling creeping in.
"I…"
She hesitated.
"…I'm getting that scared feeling again."
King Halo sighed softly beside her.
"I don't blame you, Spe-chan."
Then she lifted her chin slightly, her tone firm.
"But deep down…"
A glance toward Suzuka.
"I know she'll handle it out there."
The group pressed on.
Step after step, tracing the circuit as it wound its way through the city.
They passed Tabac Corner, then moved along toward Louis Chiron Corner, continuing through the flowing sections that followed.
The streets shifted character again as they approached Piscine Chicane—tight, technical, aggressive in its direction changes—before moving onward toward La Rascasse and La Source.
But instead of continuing toward Anthony Noghès Corner, Suzuka made an earlier turn.
Into the pit lane.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Gone was the open street.
Replaced by something more focused.
More mechanical.
The pit lane sat mostly quiet—but not empty.
Garage doors stood open.
Inside them—
Machines.
Rows of classic Formula One cars, each surrounded by mechanics, tools, and parts in various stages of preparation.
The scent of fuel, oil, and hot metal lingered faintly in the air.
They walked deeper into the paddock.
Until—
Suzuka stopped.
Turned.
And faced one of the garages.
There it was.
Resting on all four wheels.
Low.
Compact.
Purpose-built.
The McLaren M23D.
Special Week blinked.
Then raised an eyebrow.
"Wh… why did I think it'd be bigger than this?"
She stepped closer, eyes drifting toward the cockpit.
"And that cockpit… it's…"
A pause.
"…so narrow!"
Suzuka chuckled softly.
"If I were any bigger, they'd have to remove the top body panel just for me to get in."
She stepped closer to the car, her gaze softening slightly.
"The car is so narrow… your shoulders nearly touch the bodywork."
Then she gestured downward, mimicking foot placement.
"And the pedals…"
A small breath.
"They're positioned beyond the suspension."
Maruzensky's eyes widened.
"So that means…"
She leaned forward slightly.
"Your feet are basically in front of—or past—the suspension?"
Suzuka nodded.
"Exactly."
A quiet pause.
"Which means…"
She exhaled.
"…your legs are part of the crumple zone."
That landed.
Heavy.
Real.
"Ah! Ciao, Suzuka!"
A voice broke the moment.
One of the mechanics from the McLaren garage raised a hand, smiling.
"So glad you could visit!"
Suzuka smiled back, lifting her hand in return.
"Glad to see you too."
The mechanic approached, wiping his hands lightly on a cloth before stopping in front of the group.
"Ah—friends of Suzuka!"
He nodded warmly.
"So nice to see you all again!"
Almost in unison, Special Week, King Halo, Rudolf, Forever Young, and Maruzensky gave a small respectful bow.
Rudolf stepped forward slightly.
"It's good to see you as well."
The mechanic returned the gesture.
"Thank you all for coming along with her."
A glance toward Suzuka.
"She really appreciates the support."
Rudolf nodded.
"Anything for a colleague… and a friend."
A faint smile.
"Besides. She's one of the best front runners in Tracen."
The mechanic chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
"Hah… yeah. I've heard."
He glanced back toward the car, where a few mechanics were still working around the rear assembly.
"The car's almost ready for tomorrow's practice session."
A nod.
"We should have it running properly after lunch."
Suzuka nodded.
"That's great to hear."
Then she stepped back slightly.
"We won't take up any more of your time. We'll keep moving."
The mechanic raised a hand again.
"Until tomorrow then, Suzuka—and friends!"
They exchanged farewells as the group turned and began walking again.
Maruzensky smiled, one ear flicking slightly.
"Nice to see some old friends again."
Suzuka nodded.
"They specialize in classic Formula One cars."
She glanced back briefly.
"They handle most of the historic entries—with occasional support from the current team when possible."
Maruzensky nodded, impressed.
Then—
"And is Zak here too?"
Suzuka shook her head.
"No."
A small pause.
"He'll be here for the Monaco Grand Prix in two weeks."
Rudolf glanced toward Forever Young.
A faint smirk forming.
"So… any bets, Yanko-kun?"
Forever Young didn't hesitate.
"I bet 5,000 yen Suzuka wins this race."
Maruzensky's grin widened instantly as she pulled out her wallet.
"Make it ten grand."
Rudolf chuckled.
"Alright then…"
A slight nod.
"Make it fifty."
Suzuka sighed, shaking her head.
"Guys… please don't bet on this race."
Forever Young shrugged lightly.
"Why not?"
A grin.
"It's a race, right? Not like we're betting on Umamusume races."
She crossed her arms casually.
"That wouldn't even be allowed—we're basically idols to them."
Suzuka paused.
Then—
A smirk slowly formed.
"Alright then."
She turned slightly toward them.
"If you really want to bet…"
A beat.
"Make it one hundred grand."
Maruzensky lit up.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!"
She turned toward King Halo.
"How about you, King? You in?"
Halo slowed her pace slightly.
Then shook her head.
"I'll pass."
Maruzensky turned to Special Week.
Special Week immediately waved both hands frantically.
"No—no! I won't bet on Suzuka's race at all!"
That broke it.
Laughter spread through the group as they exited the pit lane.
Back onto the circuit.
Through Sainte Dévote, up the incline of Beau Rivage, and into Massenet Corner.
The climb ahead.
The rhythm returning.
They climbed higher along the circuit.
Past the flowing rhythm of Massenet Corner, the road opening slightly before tightening again as it approached one of the most glamorous sections of the entire track.
The skyline shifted.
Luxury replaced stone walls.
Polished glass.
Marble.
And then—
They arrived at Place du Casino.
Right beside the iconic Casino de Monte-Carlo.
And parked along the curb—
A lineup.
Not of race cars.
But something else entirely.
Hypercars.
Supercars.
Modern machines gleaming under the midday sun.
Carbon fiber, polished alloys, sculpted aerodynamics—all lined up like a display of wealth and power.
Maruzensky stopped.
Her eye twitched.
"What?!"
She frowned, scanning the lineup.
"No classics?!"
King Halo chuckled softly, already spotting something among the row.
"Well…"
She gestured slightly.
"There's a Carrera GT here."
Her eyes lingered briefly on the silver Porsche Carrera GT, its low stance and unmistakable silhouette standing out even among newer machinery.
But Maruzensky turned away almost instantly.
"Not interested."
Halo raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"And yet you were interested in my Carrera GT."
Maruzensky nodded without hesitation.
"Yes."
She crossed her arms.
"Because your Carrera GT… or your Gemballa Mirage GT…"
A slight grin.
"Is owned by folks like us."
A beat.
"Umamusume."
Halo froze for a second.
That logic—
…actually made sense.
Then she nodded once.
"…Fair enough."
They moved on.
Leaving the polished displays behind.
Back into the rhythm of the circuit.
Through Mirabeau Haute, retracing their steps, descending once more through the winding streets.
The city felt more alive now.
More people.
More movement.
More anticipation.
Race weekend was creeping closer with every passing hour.
Eventually—
They returned.
Back to the Fairmont Monte Carlo.
Through the lobby.
Up the elevator.
And into King Halo's room once more.
The door closed behind them.
And just like that—
The outside world quieted.
Maruzensky immediately raised both arms high, stretching as she walked in.
"Man… that was quite a walk, huh?"
Forever Young laughed, dropping her bag onto the table.
"That wasn't even us running—and you're tired?"
Maruzensky blinked, caught off guard.
"Eh?"
Special Week raised a finger, thinking aloud.
"I mean… Maruzen-san isn't exactly a long runner…"
Maruzensky chuckled, dropping herself onto the couch.
"Doesn't really apply when walking."
She exhaled heavily, sinking deep into the cushions.
"It's just…"
A pause.
"…ridiculously hot…"
Forever Young laughed softly, shaking her head.
Then her gaze shifted.
Toward Suzuka.
"I bet Suzuka's looking forward to the race."
Suzuka, standing near the balcony, nodded calmly.
"Yes."
Then—
A grin.
Sharp.
Confident.
"I'm looking forward to schooling these oldies about young talent."
Silence.
Immediate.
Every eye in the room widened.
Even Rudolf blinked once.
Forever Young slowly turned her head.
Then leaned slightly toward King Halo, lowering her voice.
"…She just said that, didn't she?"
Halo nodded slowly.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…She just did."
Suzuka stepped out onto the balcony again.
The same place where the day had begun.
But now—
The city was fully awake.
Below, the Historic Monaco Grand Prix circuit stood ready.
Barriers set.
Corners waiting.
History breathing through every section.
She rested her hands lightly on the railing, eyes scanning the track below.
Not imagining it.
Not wondering.
But preparing.
Every braking point.
Every apex.
Every risk.
Already running through her mind.
Behind her—
Her friends.
Their laughter.
Their support.
Their belief.
And somewhere far from Monaco—
In a workshop across the world—
A cobalt blue machine was nearing completion.
Another story.
Another chapter waiting to begin.
But here—
Now—
Only one thing mattered.
The race.
Suzuka's grip tightened slightly on the railing.
A faint smile forming.
Not loud.
Not arrogant.
But certain.
Tomorrow—
The engines would roar.
And Monaco—
Would test her.