"P2, Kai. P2."
Borreipaire's voice over the radio was calm and steady, showing little emotion. But if you listened closely, you could detect a hint of disappointment.
Borreipaire paused. Disappointment? Was he, too, being swept away by the paddock rumors?
Everyone was watching Kai, eagerly expecting him to be a genius who appeared out of nowhere and swept every pole and every win in GP3.
But Borreipaire was a professional. He should have remained calm. This was only Kai's second career race. Kai needed more races to accumulate experience, to grow, to improve, to unlock his potential and cash in on his talent. Rushing him with excessive expectations would only be counterproductive.
Don't think he didn't know. The drivers in the paddock were smart. They didn't believe the media hype about "Leclerc vs. Kai." The real trigger for these young men was the sponsorship logos that had appeared on Kai's race suit and helmet for the first time.
In the paddock, the era of relying solely on talent to carve out a career was long gone. They had seen countless geniuses fail to cross the chasm to F1 because they lacked capital support. No matter how good Kai was, without sponsorship, he wasn't a threat.
But now, things were different. Not only did he have sponsorship, but it was from Richard Mille and Brembo. That was a completely different story.
So, the paddock drivers had pulled out all the stops, deliberately isolating Kai, creating pressure on and off the track, trying to break this rookie.
If Borreipaire let himself get swept up in the hype, Kai's situation would only become more difficult.
He had already figured all this out, hadn't he?
But just now, watching Kai drive a near-perfect lap only to miss pole by three-thousandths of a second... it was hard to hide the disappointment.
Three-thousandths of a second. If Kai had taken pole, Borreipaire could already imagine the look on the faces of those paddock drivers as they shut their mouths.
Unfortunately, there are no "ifs" in racing.
Taking a deep breath, Borreipaire regained his rationality. He needed to control himself, and he needed to help Kai control his emotions.
"Excellent lap. Beautiful work. Only a gap of three-thousandths. You've delivered another brilliant qualifying session. Worth celebrating."
"P2. Front row start."
"Now, we should focus on the afternoon. Looking forward to a great race."
Simple, direct, and heartfelt. Borreipaire was guiding Kai in his own way.
But surprisingly, there was no response on the radio.
Borreipaire worried. Despite Kai's usual maturity, he was still only a seventeen-year-old kid. Emotional fluctuations under pressure and setbacks were perfectly normal.
So, Borreipaire called again. "Kai?"
Finally, a voice came over the radio. "So, no celebratory performance this time? Looks like I'll have to fight for pole next time so I can enjoy the show."
Borreipaire: ... "When did I ever promise you a celebratory performance?"
Kai: "Damn. Didn't fall for it."
Borreipaire chuckled. "It seems you're fine if you're still in the mood to joke."
Kai laughed softly. "Why? Should I be sad? 0.003 seconds, right? It's regrettable, sure, but it also proves we're neck and neck, doesn't it?"
"George is an excellent driver, he proved that. Jack is also an excellent driver. This means there will be a fierce battle this afternoon."
"The challenge and test are right in front of us. No time for disappointment or sadness. I can't wait to get back out there and have a proper fight in the race."
The smile on Borreipaire's face fully bloomed. He made a rare joke. "I thought you'd be terribly upset."
Kai: "Actually, during that silence just now, I was cursing a lot. To avoid becoming famous that way, I decided to switch to mute mode."
Borreipaire: ... "Well done."
"Hahaha." Kai couldn't hold it back anymore and burst out laughing.
Qualifying was over. Back in the pit lane, the ART team was jubilant.
Although Hubert had been average, qualifying only 8th, the team had swept the top three spots, showing powerful competitiveness for the second race weekend in a row.
However, amidst the joy, there was a noticeable tension. In Spain, ART had also performed well in qualifying, taking three of the top four spots and aiming to sweep the podium. But things had gone wrong, and only Kai's win had saved ART's face.
More importantly, the competitive atmosphere between Kai, Russell, and Aitken was quietly heating up. Not just the drivers, but the race engineers were also slightly cautious, avoiding direct conversation unless necessary, even reducing eye contact. An invisible tension continued to spread.
In the afternoon, F1 qualifying and the F2 Feature Race concluded one after another, and the entire paddock boiled over.
Leclerc continued his heroic form from Baku, dominating from pole to victory, his momentum unstoppable. The discussions grew louder.
Since the start of the F2 season, Leclerc had performed well, adapting quickly to the new car, but to be honest, he hadn't been this dominant. His forceful rise in the last two races was dazzling, sweeping through the field to become the absolute star of the paddock, attracting countless eyes.
In the eyes of bystanders, everyone had a knowing look. Leclerc must have felt the threat from Kai and exploded, using his outstanding track performance to suppress the doubts and attacks in the rumors, proving once again that he was Ferrari's only genius.
No comparison, no harm.
Here, Leclerc continued to sweep pole and race wins, extending his dominance. There, Kai had lost to Russell, losing pole.
One plus, one minus. Didn't this equate to Kai's total defeat?
For a moment, all the eyes in the paddock waiting to see a joke gleefully searched for Kai. When better to kick a man than when he's down?
Thousands of bullets and arrows were all aimed at Kai, ready to attack.
And then, Kai appeared.
Disdainful, contemptuous, mocking, sarcastic gazes gathered from all directions. But as Kai walked forward, they all turned into shock and awkwardness. People averted their eyes, looked up at the sky, wishing they could dig a hole and bury themselves. It was hugely embarrassing.
Kai was heading straight for the Prema Racing garage.
Coming face-to-face with Leclerc, Kai opened his arms wide from a distance, ready for a hug. But as Leclerc approached, Kai deliberately pulled his arms back, leaving Leclerc hanging. Then, Kai smoothly punched Leclerc in the shoulder and shouted loudly.
"Are you sure you're not bullying those drivers? Get away, I don't talk to bullies."
With that one tease, Leclerc couldn't hold it in. He threw his head back and laughed, punching Kai in the shoulder. "I didn't bully you, what are you worried about?"
Anyone with eyes could see that the two young men were still friends. The rampant rumors collapsed on their own. The spectators could take a break.
~~----------------------
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