He had just completed a lap so breathtaking it sent adrenaline screaming through his veins, a surge so intense it felt like it might lift him off the seat.
And then… that was it?
Even Greenwood was momentarily caught off guard. Was this really the same driver who, on his very first outing at Spa, had chased the absolute limit like a man possessed?
"Kai, great job," Arrivabene cut into the radio, offering congratulations immediately.
"Team effort," Kai replied. "Absolutely a team effort. Thanks for putting up with me all weekend." The lighthearted remark made the Ferrari garage burst into laughter. Then he added, calmly, "Has the second flying lap started yet?"
That explained everything.
It was not that Kai felt nothing. It was that he was staying rational. A great lap did not mean the fight was over. Not when every top driver still had one more shot, and not in a paddock where the margins were so brutally thin.
Arrivabene's eyes flickered with approval. "Yes. Seb is on his out-lap. Mercedes and Red Bull are getting ready to roll."
The brief euphoria faded, attention snapping back to the track. The true heavyweights were coming out now. The real climax was still ahead.
Wang Lin never imagined Kai would pull off something that absurd. The raw beauty of Formula One hit him square in the chest, blood heating uncontrollably.
He was supposed to be rooting against Kai.
And yet, deep down, something stirred that he could not suppress.
Pole position.
What if Kai actually took pole?
Just the thought made Wang Lin's heart leap into his throat, pounding so hard it felt ready to burst free.
"This is incredibly tight," the commentary rang out.
"The top five are separated by just four tenths. One final flying lap. Anything can happen. Every driver has to go flat out."
"Ricciardo! Daniel Ricciardo… no, slight lock-up at Turn Three. That costs him four tenths. Home hero, no chance for pole."
The air was stretched to breaking point.
Verstappen attacked first, pushing too hard into Turn Thirteen and running onto the grass. Opportunity gone.
Then came Vettel, fully committed.
This was Formula One. Teammates, yes, but also direct rivals. Every qualifying session was a comparison, every lap a silent duel.
Vettel did not want to lose to Kai. Not here. Not in the season opener. Not to a rookie who had looked lost all weekend.
He had not expected pressure to arrive this quickly.
"Green sector! Personal best!"
"Vettel has wrung everything out of it, but second!"
"1:21.838!"
"He breaks into the 1:21s, but still cannot beat Kai!"
"My god, what are we witnessing? Only Hamilton remains. Hamilton is on a flying lap, and Kai is back out for his second run!"
The atmosphere climbed toward frenzy.
Everyone had expected Hamilton versus Vettel. Then the spotlight shifted to Kai versus Verstappen. No one imagined the final act would become Hamilton versus Kai.
On track, only two cars remained on hot laps. Car forty-four and car twenty-two.
"Perfect! Hamilton lights up sector one, purple! He's gone fastest by four tenths! That's an unbelievable margin. How has he found that?"
"Kai goes green!"
"Unbelievable! He doesn't beat Hamilton, but he improves his own time by 0.147 seconds!"
"What a duel! Old king versus newborn challenger, wheel to wheel across timing screens. But can this continue?"
Everything changed in the space of a heartbeat.
"No way!"
"Hamilton again! Purple in sector two! The gap stretches to 0.648 seconds!"
"How? Kai has already pushed the track to its absolute limit, but Hamilton is operating on another level!"
"The Mercedes finally shows its full hand!"
The paddock was stunned.
Hamilton had felt the pressure. Not just from Vettel, but from a rookie barely into his career. The four-time world champion unleashed his peak form, dancing the car through impossibly late braking zones. It would later be hailed as one of the finest laps of his career.
The final sector was not quite as strong. Mercedes' setup did not suit it as well as Ferrari's. But the damage was already done.
1:21.164.
Pole position belonged to Hamilton.
"Brilliant!"
"Absolutely brilliant. Take a bow. That is Hamilton's finest lap at Albert Park."
"His seventh Melbourne pole. Extraordinary."
"But!"
"Kai! A phenomenal, fearless performance earns him a front-row start alongside the four-time world champion."
"Second place in qualifying. Remember the name. Kai."
"As we applaud Hamilton's perfection, we must also acknowledge Kai's explosive arrival."
"From winter testing through practice sessions here, this eighteen-year-old has been questioned at every turn. His ability, his legitimacy, even his right to sit in a Ferrari."
"And he answered all of it."
"He beat his teammate Vettel and forced Hamilton to bare everything he had, claiming the front row on Sunday."
"We are witnessing history. This is the best qualifying result ever for a rookie in their first race. And the youngest driver ever to qualify second."
"In 2007, Hamilton debuted here and finished third in the race."
"Now, a new possibility stands before us. Can Kai go even further?"
Wang Lin stared at the screen, mouth hanging open, heart lodged painfully in his throat.
Then Hamilton's pole flashed up, and a crushing wave of disappointment slammed into him.
"So close. Just a little more…"
He clutched his head in frustration, reacting as if he himself had missed the podium.
A beat later, realization hit.
Kai did not take pole. He should be celebrating. He was supposed to be Kai's hater.
So why did it hurt?
Just moments ago, he had been hoping, sincerely, for a miracle.
Embarrassment crept in. He avoided looking up, terrified of meeting Song Bo's eyes.
Then Song Bo erupted beside him. "Second! Front row! Aaaaah!"
Wang Lin snapped back. "He almost had pole!"
Song Bo shrugged. "The gap was massive. Look at Hamilton's delta. Mercedes is on another level. Kai took second with a near-perfect lap. Did you see how hard Hamilton had to push?"
Wang Lin blinked.
"And," Song Bo added calmly, "that second place just set a record. Best rookie qualifying debut ever."
"That second is priceless."
He was right.
The paddock exploded. Kai had written history. Second place in his very first F1 qualifying session, more shocking than his GP3 pole by orders of magnitude.
This was Formula One.
Hamilton's own debut here in 2007 had been fourth on the grid. Kai had gone one better.
He beat both Red Bulls. He beat Vettel.
After weeks of doubt, he answered everything with lap time.
More than that, he forced Hamilton to feel pressure, enough to make Mercedes reveal their true pace.
Was this the first variable in the Ferrari versus Mercedes war?
Pole position was not just pole position.
Hamilton's advantage was enormous. And Kai, after pushing his tyres to the limit, could not repeat the miracle on his final lap.
Second place. Gap: 0.564 seconds.
Huge on paper. In reality, still razor-thin.
The debate ignited instantly.
Had Hamilton been forced into revealing Mercedes' hand? Was the traffic incident deliberate? Coincidence? Strategy?
Opinions exploded across social media.
Some accused Hamilton. Others defended him fiercely. Some even blamed Kai for panicking.
The paddock was small, but filled with knives and shadows. Every breeze could become a storm.
Kai had barely arrived, and already he stood at the center of his first controversy.
The real test was only beginning.
After scrutineering, Kai returned to the Ferrari garage. Applause and cheers erupted as he raised his hands in greeting, the scene almost resembling a pole celebration.
He removed his helmet, sweat-soaked, smiling freely.
Arrivabene clapped his shoulder. Vettel came over, smiling politely, and hugged him. "Great lap."
Then he turned away.
Kai noticed Arrivabene and Vettel walking off together, the usually stern team boss offering quiet encouragement.
Kai turned instead to Claire. "I really gave it everything."
This was not modesty. He knew it. That last lap was everything he had.
Claire nodded. Calm, rational, exacting. "We lost time in the medium and slow corners. Mercedes was stronger in sectors one and two."
Ferrari had traded straight-line speed for balance. Mercedes had not needed to.
Still, Claire smiled. "You did your job. We'll take it from here and build the race strategy."
"Now go worry about the journalists."
He gently pushed Kai forward.
The crowd hit him like a wave.
Where am I? What am I doing?
For the first time, Kai felt lost.
A driver passed by, removing his helmet. Kai blurted out, "Hey, mate. Where's the press conference? Wait, is there even one for qualifying?"
Verstappen stared at him, utterly confused.
Eventually, he pointed. "That way. Photos at the Pirelli board first. Top three."
"Thanks," Kai said with a smile.
Verstappen walked off, then stopped, turned back. "Great lap."
Kai glanced over his shoulder. "Race day then. You're not backing down, right?"
"Obviously not!" Verstappen snapped, already regretting the exchange.
Soon, Frankie found Kai and shepherded him toward the mixed zone, guarding him like a mother hen.
Hamilton was already there, smiling, answering questions about the traffic incident.
When Kai arrived, microphones swarmed instantly.
Frankie hesitated. The questions were loaded. Dangerous.
"Do you think Lewis did it on purpose?"
"Do you feel targeted?"
"Is it fair that FIA took no action?"
The knives were out.
Kai smiled gently.
"One situation," he said.
Not accident. Not conspiracy.
"I didn't like it. But it happened."
"These things can happen. Like finding pineapple on a pizza."
Laughter rippled.
Frankie added smoothly, "Pineapple does not belong on pizza."
The press erupted.
Hamilton stepped over. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "Really. And great lap."
"Looking forward to the race," Kai replied.
Hamilton smiled wider. "Same."
As headlines exploded online, one line dominated.
"Kai: I didn't like it."
And with that, the storm truly began.
Sunday was coming.
And with it, the first shot of the new season.