"Are they actually idiots, or do they just practice at it?"
My insult was stripped of any decorative flair—just a cold, blunt assessment. My companion blinked, stunned by the sheer lack of tact, as I took another long pull of my carrot juice.
"Tell me, how exactly does this 'disgrace' my authority? If anything, the fact that my race uncovered fresh talent the URA was too incompetent to find proves I've been a roaring success. I suppose the blood has rushed so far into their heads that they've turned into boiled octopuses—incapable of basic thought, let alone information processing."
"…Oh," she whispered.
"You didn't realize? Well, given the circumstances you were forced into, I suppose I can't blame you for losing perspective."
The girl standing before me was Richemont, a competitor who had fought her way into the main draw from a general school in Minato Mirai, Yokohama. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her family ran a vineyard in France, but a string of bad harvests and business failures had pushed them to the brink. To save her home, she had been sold into a political marriage with a powerful Japanese executive.
It was a story out of a bad Victorian novel. Her life was a cycle of harassment and emotional abuse. To make matters worse, her "husband" was a major URA donor. He had sent Richemont into my Finals with a single directive: perform a hatchet job to undermine Mejiro Rampage's influence.
"I never wanted to marry into that family," Richemont murmured, her voice trembling. "But to save my home… I had no choice."
"Then let me lend you a hand. Actually, let's go with a 'Nuclear Option.' Hang on a second."
"Wait, what—?"
Without another word, I pulled out my phone and dialed. It picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, you got a minute? Yeah, the party's great, but I just heard something that left a bad taste in my mouth. Exactly. A girl named Richemont—yeah, it's time to take out the trash. I'll clear it with the Matriarch later… Oh, you'll handle it? I knew I loved you, Sue-chan! You're the best! ♪ Yeah, feel free to use my name for leverage. In fact, why don't you contact 'His Highness' and talk to the French authorities? Perfect. You always know exactly what I'm thinking. Let's grab dinner soon—love you, bye-bye! ♪"
Despite the bubbly tone and the affectionate "I love yous," the actual content of the call was terrifying. Richemont stood frozen, catching only snippets: Symboli advisor, His Highness, French authorities. She realized with a jolt of terror that she had just handed her problems to a woman who could move nations with a phone call.
"Kept you waiting, huh?" I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket with a grin.
"I—I'm okay, but what did you just do?"
"Simple. The Mejiro and Symboli families are launching a joint audit into your husband's company. It's over for them. As for your family's vineyard? Consider me your new primary sponsor."
"Wait, hold on! That's too much! I can't even process—"
Richemont hadn't come to me for a rescue. She had initially approached me just to ask for help contacting a friend, Elguz. She had started explaining her situation as a preamble, and now, in the blink of an eye, her entire reality had been rewritten.
"Reforming the URA means cutting out the rot," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "That's the consensus between 'The Lady' and Sue-chan. Garbage belongs in the bin. And besides… I think your situation needed to change."
"I am grateful, truly… but why go this far for a stranger?"
"Because you are me."
"What?"
I looked at her—a girl sent across the world to be a pawn for her family, left at the mercy of a corrupt organization. I saw a reflection of what I might have become if I hadn't made my choice that day. If I hadn't taken my own life in my previous world, I would have been used up and thrown away as a corporate tool—or worse, a plaything for the powerful.
"Plus, I happen to like wine," I added with a shrug. "I've been looking for an excuse to connect with a French vineyard. I'll have my people contact your family in a few days. For now, focus on your race and meeting your friend. Don't worry about the rest."
Just then, Richemont's phone began to buzz incessantly. It was her "husband's" company. I shook my head, signaling her to ignore it, and handed her a slip of paper.
"When the party's over, go to this hotel. Your 'waiting person' is already there."
"El… El is here?"
"Go eat some good food, calm your nerves, and then go see her."
I walked away without waiting for a reply. Behind me, I heard her voice, thick with emotion.
"Thank you! I will never forget this! I'll find a way to pay you back, I swear!"
"Feel free to forget it," I called back.
"Never! Never!"
Call it self-satisfaction. Her husband reminded me so much of the "aunt and uncle" from my past that I simply wanted to crush him. My grand justification? I was just helping Rudolf realize her dream of "happiness for all Horse Girls."
『How kind of you,』 a voice said in flawless, native English. 『To go so far for a single girl… is the "Tyrant" actually a saint in disguise?』
『Not kind,』 I replied in the same tongue, matching the speaker's sharp cadence. 『I am simply pruning a diseased branch so the tree can grow. It's an organizational necessity. Emotion has nothing to do with it.』
The speaker looked at me with an expression that sat somewhere between intrigue and amusement.
"Rocksmith, I presume?" I asked, switching back to Japanese.
"The one and only. I came to Japan as an exchange student because I was interested in you, but I didn't expect you to throw such an entertaining festival. I've enjoyed the show."
The Finals were technically for domestic students, but international Horse Girls could enter if they were currently residing or studying in Japan. Rocksmith fell into the latter category.
"I truly wanted to run against you," Rocksmith mused. "This race is good, but a clash with the Tyrant would be better. I'm actually in the process of requesting an extension on my exchange. I want to face you next year."
"I'm a trainer by trade now," I countered. "I can't promise I'll satisfy that craving."
"You will," Rocksmith said, stepping closer. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to keep running. You want a rival who can actually push you. We're the same, you and I."
She left me with those lingering words, vanishing into the crowd. I frowned. What a massive pain. Next year would be busy enough with Mayano's debut; whether I'd have the time to satisfy a "combat-racer" like Rocksmith was up in the air. Still… a small part of me did resonate with her words. The urge to run never truly dies.
"Rocksmith… a 'problem child,' just like the rumors say," I muttered.
The files described her as a battle-hardened racing fanatic who cared for nothing but the struggle of the turf. In a way, she was the same breed of headache as Stay Gold.
"Horse Girls will be Horse Girls, I guess," I sighed. "But if you're going to be free, then I'll be free, too."
I continued my sweep of the party, unaware of two pairs of eyes watching me from the shadows of a pillar. One girl wore a traditional kimono and haori—a classic Japanese look—yet she had a leather jacket thrown over her shoulders like a rebel. The other exuded the aura of a samurai, dressed in a yellow-and-green kimono with a black hakama.
"So, that's the 'Rampage-chan' Sue-chan was talking about," the girl in the leather jacket mused. "She has good eyes. What do you think?"
"Not bad," the samurai-like girl replied. "In fact, she's excellent. It's a relief to see such a fine junior taking up the mantle."
These were legends in the truest sense. To them, Rampage wasn't just a successful racer; she was the woman who had pulled Japanese racing into its next era. To compete in a race she had built was, in itself, a delight.
Their names were Hikaru Takai and Tomei.
Historical Note: Mejiro Rampage After Retirement
As the first Japanese horse to win the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe—and later producing a winner of the same race—Mejiro Rampage was constantly bombarded with requests to serve as a "Lead Pony" or companion for overseas expeditions. Whether it was for good luck or a desire for her calming influence, everyone wanted her in their corner.
Despite her legendary constitution, Rampage's team eventually had to decline these requests as she aged, citing the strain of international travel. However, they reached a compromise: horses preparing for an overseas campaign would be sent to stay with Rampage for a period before their departure.
Curiously, every horse that spent time with her became exceptionally resilient to the stresses of travel. Even the great Orfevre benefited from this "Rampage Camp." According to those close to the horses, it often looked as though Rampage was "whispering instructions" to them on how to survive the journey ahead.
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