The situation was indeed critical.
Under the yellow flag, they had to limit their speed. Although overtaking was temporarily prohibited, Kai hadn't been able to pull away after the chaotic start. Hamilton had seized the opportunity, sticking to him like a shadow, keeping himself firmly within DRS range, waiting to strike.
The crisis was nakedly apparent.
Kai remained focused and tense, his peripheral vision locked on the sliver of silver in his mirrors. "Pierre, I have absolutely no grip. Do you think I can hold off the Mercedes?"
Even in this dire moment, Kai's voice carried a hint of teasing.
Pierre's nerves relaxed slightly. "No—"
"So disappointing. Have a little faith in me, will you?" Kai sniffed dramatically. "Keep me updated on the front tire temperature curve."
Suddenly, his tone shifted, turning serious. Lap 4. Yellow flags turned green. Racing resumed.
Kai didn't play games. He knew that against an opponent like Hamilton, trying to be clever while lacking grip was just digging his own grave. It would be handing Hamilton an attacking opportunity on a silver platter.
Instead of wasting energy on tricks, he decided to dig a hole for Hamilton.
While joking on the radio, his attention never wavered from the Mercedes. He knew his lack of grip gave him zero chance in the first chicane. Instead of stubbornly defending a lost cause, he decided to retreat to advance. He would sell a weakness.
On the main straight, DRS wasn't enabled yet, but Hamilton was locked onto Kai's gearbox, surfing the slipstream.
Patience. Stay patient.
Kai's heart beat steadily. Amidst the engine roar, his senses were sharp, constantly calculating Hamilton's position behind him and the braking zone ahead.
Then—it came!
The moment the green flag waved, Hamilton showed his world champion pedigree. He seized the opportunity instantly, jinking his car to the right, aiming for the inside.
As expected, Kai took the bait!
The Number 22 Ferrari immediately swerved right to cover the inside line.
But Hamilton was ready. He flicked the steering wheel hard to the left. The Number 44 Mercedes dived into the space Kai had vacated on the outside. Throttle pinned, Hamilton surged past, completing the overtake in a heartbeat.
He didn't stop there. From the outside, he cut across to the inside, claiming the apex. His car straddled the racing line, effectively chopping off any chance for Kai to counter-attack from the inside.
Clean. Brutal. Decisive.
"Green flag!"
"Hamilton attacks immediately! A beautiful dummy! Lewis Hamilton sells Kai a dummy and executes a textbook overtake!"
"The reigning champion now leads the 2018 Italian Grand Prix!"
"Grosjean is trying to pass Sainz! They're banging wheels! Sainz is forced off track! Grosjean is trying to reclaim the position!"
"But Hamilton didn't waste a second! He has completely rewritten the race!"
"However!"
"Ladies and Gentlemen! HERE COMES KAI!"
It was dazzling, overwhelming!
Before the commentators could even take a breath, the race hit another climax.
The Tifosi, who a second ago were clutching their heads in despair, froze. They stared at the screens, forgetting to breathe.
Kai, having just lost the lead, didn't panic. He didn't try to fight back immediately in the chicane. Instead, he drove the corner beautifully. He accepted the lost position and focused on a smooth exit, maximizing his speed despite the lack of grip.
In contrast, Hamilton, focused on blocking Kai, had taken a compromised line through the chicane, sacrificing his exit speed.
Hamilton expected the young, aggressive rookie to fight back immediately. He didn't expect Kai to drive with the maturity of a veteran, prioritizing the exit.
The difference in exit speed gave Kai a significant advantage through the Curva Grande. He didn't hesitate to cash it in.
Throttle pinned. Speed unleashed.
Vroom, vroom! The Ferrari engine screamed as Kai closed the gap. By the midpoint of the Curva Grande, he was alongside.
Wheel-to-wheel!
Side-by-side!
"Hamilton vs. Kai 2.0!"
The commentary box exploded.
Just moments ago, Hamilton and Vettel had engaged in a bayonet fight at the second chicane (Variante della Roggia), ending with Vettel spinning.
Now, Hamilton was in the exact same duel with the other Ferrari, in the exact same spot.
Defender on the inside. Attacker on the outside.
Through Curva Grande, Hamilton tried to squeeze Kai's line. But Kai remained icy calm, sticking to the slipstream and refusing to be rattled. Whichever side Hamilton squeezed, Kai looked to the other.
It was a mirror image of Hamilton's overtake on the main straight.
Hamilton waited patiently, not making a move, calmly handling Kai's challenge.
Then, Kai pulled out to the outside. But Hamilton didn't bite.
A taste of his own medicine.
Hamilton believed this was Kai's dummy. A feint to the outside before cutting back to the inside—a perfect copy of Hamilton's own move. Young drivers loved to prove themselves by mimicking the masters.
But—no.
Kai's commitment to the outside line was absolute. There was no hesitation, no cutback. Hamilton's split-second hesitation cost him the chance to close the door or squeeze Kai further. He watched helplessly as the Number 22 Ferrari drew level. The challenge was right in his face.
Speed climbed. Turn 4 cut across their vision.
Boom, boom. Hamilton refused to brake.
Boom, boom. Kai refused to brake.
Red and Silver blurs, shoulder to shoulder, wheel to wheel. The temperature on track spiked. A collision seemed inevitable.
At the critical moment—
Hamilton braked first!
In reality, it was a trap. Hamilton feigned a contest of bravery, daring Kai to brake late. His goal was to force Kai to brake so late that he would understeer straight off the track.
If Kai went off, even if he completed the pass, he would have gained an advantage by leaving the track. He would be forced to give the position back or face a penalty.
Ginger gets spicier as it gets older.
However, in that same millisecond, Kai braked too.
Like lightning, the two cars sliced into the corner side-by-side. The braking point was pushed to the absolute limit. The Number 22 Ferrari looked like it was about to wash out. But in the nick of time, Kai's combination of steering and braking was like a ballerina landing softly on a tightrope. He turned in gently.
The car was oversteering heavily, sensitive and twitchy. The nose lightly kissed the apex of Turn 4. The rear threatened to snap away, dragged by centrifugal force. But Kai, with delicate, subtle throttle control, managed the slide through the storm, dragging the rear end through the S-curve and into Turn 5.
It looked unstable, like duckweed in a storm, but he used the inertia masterfully. He carved a perfect arc through the crushing G-forces.
Ideally, he stabilized the car in the hurricane, completely ignoring Hamilton in the same corner, turning the chicane into his own solo performance.
Like a dragon swimming, like a swan diving. It was pure visual pleasure.
On the surface, Number 22 and Number 44 were side-by-side, locked in a duel.
But in reality, it was unrequited love.
Car 44 was fixated on his opponent like a sunflower tracking the sun. But Car 22 was a narcissist, completely immersed in his own world, deconstructing the geometry of Turns 4 and 5.
The quality of their lines became apparent instantly. Before anyone could breathe, all eyes were on the Ferrari Red that was pulling ahead, suppressing the Silver Arrow.
Light as a swallow, fluid as water—all in one breath.
By the time Hamilton realized he had made the same mistake twice—compromising his line to block Kai, thereby ruining his exit speed—it was too late for regret.
Kai was already gone, rocketing out of Turn 5.
"Bold! Crazy!"
"Decisive! Calm!"
"In a race of changing fortunes, from setup to execution, it was perfect! Kai re-passes Hamilton! Ferrari Number 22 retakes the lead of the 2018 Italian Grand Prix! Hamilton's lead lasted for exactly one corner!"
AHHHH!
Jiang Mo clenched her fists and screamed, startling Lu Cheng. But she didn't care. She stared at the screen, her blood boiling.
She wasn't alone. The Tifosi went collectively insane. From heaven to hell and back to heaven in fifteen seconds. The rollercoaster of emotions shattered their composure.
AHHHHHHHHHH!
A fire swept across Monza. The world exploded into noise, a surging red tide engulfing everything.
All feelings were incinerated, leaving only frenzy.
However, on the track, it was different.
Kai didn't relax. He knew the state of his car, and he knew Hamilton wouldn't give up easily. He checked his mirrors immediately.
Unsurprisingly, the silver Car 44 was right there, launching an immediate counter-attack.
At the Lesmo 1 (Turn 6), Kai didn't wait. He sold a weakness. He deliberately ran slightly wide, leaving the inside line open, tempting Hamilton to dive.
But—
Danger!
Hamilton didn't take the bait. His instincts screamed.
Looking back, Kai had intentionally let him pass at the first chicane. The goal was to get the tow and use the high-speed advantage to reclaim the position at the second chicane.
Kai knew the Ferrari's strengths and weaknesses perfectly.
Even if he held the first chicane, he would lose the second. But by losing the first, he could use the Curva Grande to set up a pass at the second chicane, then use the clear air in Sectors 2 and 3 to pull away.
Like chess, you don't look at the current move; you look at the whole board.
Hamilton was smart. He hadn't seen it then, but he saw it now. Once bitten, twice shy.
Pause!
For a split second, Hamilton slowed his breathing, observing the whole picture. Only when he was sure Kai had no backup plan did he cut inside, aiming to use the Mercedes' superior mechanical grip to bully the Ferrari.
But Hamilton immediately realized Kai's maturity. It wasn't a trap; it was decisiveness!
Kai knew his grip was low. He needed to avoid limit-handling, especially to save tires for the long stint. So he didn't attack the apex like in qualifying. Instead, he hugged the outside line of Lesmo 1 and 2, sketching a smooth arc like a spring breeze, maintaining his mid-corner momentum.
Hamilton's brief hesitation cost him the initiative. It gave Kai more space to navigate the corners. Unless Hamilton went into full qualifying mode and risked his race, the opportunity was gone. Clever people are often tripped up by their own cleverness.
Obviously, Hamilton wouldn't risk his entire race. He tried to maintain rhythm through the Lesmos, hoping his exit speed would be enough to catch Kai.
Unfortunately—
No flaws.
Red and Silver raced through the corners. Kai's calm and wit were on full display. He dictated the pace.
He exited Lesmo 2 in the lead, his exit speed excellent.
Once on the straight, the wild Ferrari unleashed its strength. Unrivaled straight-line speed ignited Monza.
"Beautiful!"
"Kai calmly and firmly withstands Hamilton's counter-attack! He holds the position and plays to his strengths, opening the gap!"
"After a thrilling, chaotic start, Kai stabilizes the situation and continues to lead for Ferrari!"
Boom!
Energy detonated.
Matteo jumped, shoulders hunching as if dodging shrapnel. The entire bar turned into a sea of fire.
From the Vettel-Hamilton collision to the Hamilton-Kai position swap, they had been through fire and ice. Finally, Kai lived up to expectations, withstanding the champion's assault to lead the pack.
Emotions released. High-fives, hugs, toasts. For the second time this season, after Hockenheim, Vettel had made a mistake that could cost Ferrari the race, and the weight of the world fell on Kai's shoulders.
And Kai delivered.
The roar from Monza seemed to burst through the TV screen.
The bartender, who had kept a poker face, finally smiled. "That kid has a big heart!"
Matteo blinked, realizing the bartender was talking to him. He looked around at the jubilation and nodded. "Yeah. He always does. It's definitely not something a normal person could do." As the words left his mouth, Matteo froze.
After the bayonet fighting of the opening laps, the race should have settled into a rhythm. That was normal F1.
However, the Tifosi soon realized this wasn't the case. Mercedes was aggressive!
Anyone could see Ferrari was still struggling. Despite the front-row lockout, the car had issues, and its long-run pace was a huge question mark.
If the fans knew, Toto Wolff certainly knew.
So, Hamilton stayed cool. After losing the lead, the four-time champion settled into stalking mode.
No frustration, no annoyance. He initiated Phase 2.
Usually, drivers drop back to about two seconds to avoid dirty air and save tires. They wait for the pit stops.
But Monza is different. 75% full throttle. So, Hamilton stuck to Kai. He refused to drop back. He played cat and mouse, staying within the one-second DRS window, constantly looming in Kai's mirrors.
Shadowing him. Inescapable. Giving him no room to breathe.
Pressure! Pressure! Pressure!
Like a relentless flood, wave after wave crashed against Kai's back. The roaring engine behind him was a constant threat.
Hamilton didn't attack. He just stayed there. Not too close, not too far, but always there. His existence was a threat, a thorn in Kai's side, designed to make him uncomfortable.
Lewis Hamilton, a true champion, rejected hot-headedness. He looked at the long game.
He realized his mistake in the opening lap—rushing too much. He didn't dwell on it. He reset, reorganized, and with the pit wall's help, found a new strategy: Pressure.
His posture said it all:
"I can do this."
No matter how Kai managed the pace, Hamilton could match it. Staying in DRS range without dropping back proved Mercedes had the pace to challenge, or even crush, Ferrari in the long run.
This was confidence.
The pressure piled onto Kai. Now, it was a waiting game. When would the rookie crack?
One mistake, one lock-up, one wide corner, and Hamilton would flip the race.
Cat and mouse. The psychological dynamic of the leader and the chaser shifted. Kai was leading, but Hamilton seemed to hold the initiative. The suffocating tension was palpable, even through the TV screen.
Heartbeats drummed. Palms sweated.
All eyes at Monza focused on Car 22. The tension, anxiety, and excitement boiled in the air, filling the cramped cockpit, drowning Kai in scalding pressure.
Thump-thump.
His heart hammered.
And in this moment, swallowed by pressure, Kai once again displayed his elite mental fortitude. Calm. Focused. Steady. Experienced. Unmoved.
The silver ghost in his mirror was relentless.
Kai realized this was psychological warfare. They weren't trading physical punches, but they were trading blows nonetheless. Who would blink first?
The pressure was on Kai, but he also held the rhythm. Hamilton had to react to him.
Kai focused on himself. Hamilton focused on his opponent. This subtle difference created a strange balance.
On the surface, it was a standoff. The suffocating tension remained constant, neither decreasing nor increasing. The brewing storm kept building, stretching the nerves of the spectators to the breaking point.
Holding their breath on the edge of chaos. One spark could blow it all up.
While people marveled at Hamilton's persistence, Kai's composure under maximum pressure was even more impressive.
Lap 5. Lap 10. Lap 15. The gap stayed between 0.6 and 0.8 seconds. Neither pulling away nor closing in. The spectators were on the verge of collapse, but the two drivers remained steady, dancing on the edge of a knife at 300 km/h.
Behind them, Verstappen in third had fallen off the pace, now seven seconds adrift.
Bottas, recovering from the start, had closed the gap to Verstappen. He was in DRS range and attacking.
Despite Red Bull's form at Spa, they couldn't match Mercedes here. Verstappen was in trouble.
Lap 19. Bottas tried to use DRS to pass around the outside of Turn 1.
Verstappen sensed the danger. He moved left to block, braking as late as possible.
It happened fast. Before Bottas could complete the move, Verstappen defended aggressively.
Too aggressively. He locked up, understeered, and his car sailed straight off the track. He bumped over the kerbs, wobbled back onto the tarmac, and somehow stayed ahead of Bottas.
The commentators gasped. Penalty?
No.
Because Bottas hadn't fully established his position, Verstappen leaving the track wasn't considered gaining a lasting advantage. No penalty.
Still, it was a scare for Red Bull. Horner immediately radioed Verstappen to calm down and check the floor for damage.
While the Mercedes-Red Bull fight heated up, movement stirred in the pit lane.
Mercedes crew out. Hamilton? Or Bottas?
Ferrari went on alert. Pierre's mind raced.
Both teams started on Super Softs. Pirelli recommended pitting around Lap 30 for a one-stop onto Softs.
But it was only Lap 19. Too early?
Moreover, Mercedes had better tire management. Neither Hamilton nor Bottas should need to pit yet.
Was this an early stop because Hamilton had burned his tires chasing Kai? Or was it a strategy?
Pierre radioed immediately. "Kai, how are Lewis's front tires?"
"Can't see from this distance. But my fronts are blistering. Left front is critical," Kai reported.
Pierre froze. Is Hamilton trying an undercut? Or are his tires dead? Should Ferrari stick to the plan or react?
"Pierre," Arrivabene's voice cut in. "Box Kai!"
Mercedes was playing games. Ferrari had to respond. If Mercedes undercut, Ferrari had to cover.
Pierre didn't argue. He knew he couldn't disobey the Team Principal.
Instant decision!
Pierre took a breath. "Kai, Box! Box!"
"..." Kai paused. "Copy!"
Lap 20. Kai dived into the pits. Behind him, Hamilton... didn't flinch. He drove past the pit entry and continued down the main straight.
"YES! YES!"
Toto Wolff punched the air, jumping out of his seat and screaming, his face red with excitement. The usually calm Austrian went wild. The Mercedes garage erupted.
In the Ferrari garage, there was stunned silence. Kai, getting his tires changed, glanced in his mirror.
The Mercedes crew was packing up their tires.
The answer was obvious:
It was a trap!
Hamilton hadn't pitted.
"Brilliant!"
"Mercedes seizes the upper hand! They faked a pit stop, laying a trap for Ferrari!"
"If Ferrari pitted, they stayed out. If Ferrari stayed out, they would have pitted. Whatever Ferrari did, Mercedes was one step ahead. The strategy team has turned the race around! Lewis Hamilton leads the Italian Grand Prix!"
Explosion!
The shockwave hit the fans. Matteo grabbed his head in despair. Not again! Mercedes outsmarting Ferrari! Ferrari panicking! I've had enough!
"Fuck!"
Matteo cursed Mercedes with a passion he'd never felt before.
Pierre felt the same.
Damn it. We fell for it.
Not an undercut. An Overcut. Mercedes had perfectly replicated Ferrari's Monaco strategy against them.
"Sorry, Kai. My judgement was wrong," Pierre said, full of regret.
Even though it was Arrivabene's order, pitting on Lap 20 meant tire wear would be a ticking time bomb at the end of the race. As Kai's engineer, Pierre should have questioned it.
He took responsibility immediately.
"It was a strategy. We took the bait. Mercedes outplayed us. Pierre, no need to shine the spotlight on yourself," Kai's voice came back, devoid of anger or panic. He even sounded amused.
Pierre let out a breath, smiling despite himself. Kai always kept his fighting spirit.
Kai realized the brilliance of the trap: Tire Management.
This was Mercedes' strength. Hamilton's relentless pressure had forced Kai to drive at 100%, destroying his tires.
The "pressure" wasn't just on Kai; it was on his rubber and the pit wall.
Then, Mercedes feigned an undercut at the critical moment, panicking Ferrari. Combined with Kai's genuine tire wear, they walked right into the trap.
Layout, timing, strategy, driver execution, Wolff's command. All perfect.
They had won this round.
On track, Kai had outsmarted Hamilton to keep the lead. In the pits, Wolff had buried Kai to get revenge.
It was intricate, interlocking rings of strategy.
Pierre took a deep breath. The race was still on. No time for regrets.
Kai exited the pits in P4, behind Verstappen and Bottas. Hamilton led.
Hamilton was now going for the Overcut. He would stay out, use his clean air to bang in fast laps, and pit later to come out ahead—or closer with much fresher tires.
"Kai, Push. Push!" Pierre ordered. Ferrari needed to switch from defense to offense.
But—
"Calm down, Pierre. Calm down. Don't lose your head," Kai reined him in. "Mercedes wants us to panic. The race isn't over until the checkered flag. This is chess. Look at the whole board."
Hamilton was leading in clear air. He could dictate the gap. His tires were still working.
Pierre's order was logical: push to prevent the overcut.
But if Kai pushed now, he would fall into Mercedes' second trap. No matter when Hamilton pitted, his tires would be fresher than Kai's. If Kai burned up his new rubber now trying to catch a ghost, he would have nothing left to defend with at the end of the race.
Unless Kai could open up a pit stop window for a second stop (highly unlikely), burning tires now was suicide.
The advantage was gone. If they wanted to win, they had to be cold and rational.
Kai was calm. "Pierre, it's too late to re-plan everything. Mercedes has the initiative. We have to be flexible. I need your help."
Pierre breathed. "I'm here."
"Keep me updated on Hamilton and Bottas's lap times. I will try to lift the pace. Let me know if the delta exceeds plus or minus 0.2 seconds."
Tires. That was the key.
From Lap 4 to 20, Kai had destroyed his tires defending against Hamilton.
Now, starting Lap 21, he had Bottas seven seconds ahead and Grosjean thirteen seconds behind.
He had a clean window. He could run his own race.
Pierre understood. Kai was going to chase Hamilton remotely, but he refused to pay the tire penalty. This was where Kai's talent would shine.
"Copy!" Pierre's heart started to race again.