The massive, chaotic roar of the crowd had been pushed to its absolute maximum limit, only to suffer an instantaneous, cliff-drop plunge into total silence. Every single journalist armed with a recorder or a smartphone involuntarily held their breath.
Absolutely no exceptions.
Those audio recorders were thrust forward exactly like a phalanx of razor-sharp daggers, aimed directly at Hamilton's throat, absolutely desperate to draw blood.
If this had been any other occasion, Hamilton absolutely would not have stopped. He would have maintained a fixed, forward gaze, projecting an aura of icy composure, entirely ignoring the chaotic media circus. His standard, professional detachment usually served to instantly freeze the journalists' hot-blooded enthusiasm.
However, today, Hamilton not only stopped walking, he actually waited patiently. He meticulously ensured that every single journalist had activated their recording devices before he began to speak.
Clearly, after enduring such a humiliating, agonizing weekend, Hamilton had something to say—
"I fundamentally disagree with this ruling."
He didn't waste time with diplomatic pleasantries. He got straight to the point, explicitly declaring his position. It was glaringly obvious that his voice was significantly tighter and vastly more strained than usual. The massive, boiling emotions he was desperately attempting to suppress were subtly bleeding through.
The journalists instantly perked up, practically vibrating with excitement. Was Hamilton officially, publicly condemning an FIA ruling?
This was incredibly thrilling.
Obviously, Hamilton knew exactly what he was doing, and he absolutely did not regret his words.
"I have operated at the absolute pinnacle of this sport for a very long time. I possess an intimate understanding of the absolute limits of elite competition, the fundamental requirements for safety, and the utmost respect for the sporting regulations."
"Believe me, I know exactly what I am doing out there, and I fully comprehend the responsibilities of a racing driver. If every single robust defensive maneuver is going to be placed under a microscopic lens and maliciously reinterpreted... then we honestly shouldn't be driving Formula 1 cars. We should all just go sit on a merry-go-round and play pretend. You never have to worry about aggressive maneuvers there."
Calm. It was a terrifying, heavily suppressed calm.
Moments ago, Kai had publicly, brutally slapped him across the face, explicitly declaring that Hamilton lacked the fundamental right to honor Niki Lauda's legacy. For Hamilton, that statement was exactly like a massive, jagged splinter shoved brutally under his fingernail—
It was permanently lodged there, agonizingly painful, and completely impossible to dislodge.
He paused for a microsecond, executing an almost imperceptible adjustment to his breathing. He fiercely tightened his grip on his rationality before continuing.
"Certain two-faced individuals... presenting one facade to the public while operating entirely differently behind closed doors... I'm honestly not sure if it's a calculated, theatrical persona, or simply the pathetic actions of a clown. Regardless, he is rapidly losing my respect."
"However, I absolutely will not alter my driving style or my approach to racing simply because certain individuals are maliciously, calculatingly attempting to manufacture viral controversy and artificial conflict. Furthermore, I absolutely do not require anyone to step forward and attempt to 'educate' me on what constitutes correct behavior."
"I am singularly focused on one objective: systematically defeating my opponents on the asphalt. As for all the other superficial noise, time will naturally reveal the truth."
Confident. Unapologetic. And subtly laced with his trademark, undeniable arrogance. Although he was currently wearing sunglasses, making it impossible to read his eyes, his words and his tone communicated absolutely everything. The slightly accelerated cadence and the elevated pitch perfectly conveyed his hyper-vigilant, highly defensive posture, while simultaneously launching a massive counter-attack.
He hadn't mentioned a single name throughout the entire statement. But every single person present knew exactly who Hamilton was ruthlessly mocking. The condescending, vastly superior posture was infinitely more powerful than any specific insult.
Having delivered his devastating, carefully crafted statement, Hamilton didn't linger. He forcefully pushed his way through the dense crowd of reporters and walked away.
His silhouette was perfectly straight. Shoulders back, spine rigid. His unhurried, measured footsteps flawlessly projected the absolute confidence and unshakeable aura of a four-time World Champion.
From Abu Dhabi, to Melbourne, to Shanghai, and finally to Monaco. The massive, suffocating tension that had been constantly suppressed and meticulously contained had finally violently snapped its restraints. The beast was officially unleashed, bearing its fangs.
The bloodthirsty hyenas of the press corps could no longer control their excitement. They were aggressively rubbing their hands together in pure, unadulterated anticipation. They didn't even need to coordinate; almost exactly in unison, every single head snapped toward the opposite side of the paddock.
Exactly as predicted, an incredibly familiar scene was currently unfolding outside the Ferrari pit garage. A massive, three-layer-deep barricade of journalists completely choked the exit, effectively sealing it shut. Every single reporter was eagerly craning their neck, desperately awaiting Kai's arrival.
It was unclear if it was purely a testament to Kai's massive popularity, or if the journalists simply believed Kai would be vastly easier to provoke into an explosive soundbite than Hamilton. Regardless, the crowd of reporters besieging the Ferrari garage was easily double the size of the mob that had ambushed Hamilton. The area resembled a massive, swarming beehive. The sheer density of the crowd was enough to trigger a severe panic attack in anyone suffering from trypophobia, causing them to immediately turn and flee in the opposite direction.
When Kai finally emerged, the massive crowd surged forward, pushing and shoving exactly like a school of starving piranhas. They essentially unhinged their jaws, desperately trying to swallow Kai whole.
Amidst this terrifying, chaotic scene, Kai was the absolute calmest person present. He simply raised both hands and made a slow, downward pressing motion, signaling for the manic crowd to slightly de-escalate their frenzy.
Miraculously, the crowd actually complied. The chaotic shouting instantly died down. Operating exactly like the world's most masterful orchestral conductor effortlessly controlling a massive symphony, Kai halted the frantic advance of the bloodthirsty mob. Countless pairs of eyes stared at him, practically overflowing with desperate hunger. A chaotic, dizzying array of arms shot forward from every conceivable direction. They looked exactly as though they wanted to violently shove their audio recorders and smartphones directly down Kai's throat, desperate to be the very first to extract his thoughts and secure the ultimate, viral exclusive.
One by one, the journalists held their breath, frantically exchanging desperate signals with their eyes. But ultimately, their patience evaporated. The questions violently burst from their throats.
"Kai! What is your official response to the FIA's ruling?!"
"During the actual race, the FIA explicitly declined to issue a penalty. What do you believe motivated their sudden, massive reversal?"
"Regardless of any post-race penalties, the ultimate race result remains completely unchanged. Why exactly did Ferrari so aggressively pursue this formal appeal?!"
"What is your detailed analysis of the collision that occurred at Turn 6?!"
"Lewis is universally renowned for his impeccably clean racing style. Do you personally believe the FIA's ruling was excessively severe?!"
Question after question. A relentless, chaotic barrage.
Amidst the overlapping noise, Kai detected a highly specific, distinctly antagonistic voice. He couldn't help but shoot a sharp glance in that direction. Although he couldn't be 100% certain, the German journalist shouting the question was highly likely a rabid Mercedes-Benz loyalist, or perhaps an operative specifically planted to instigate conflict and manufacture a viral narrative. 'Impeccably clean racing style,' huh?
Heh.
The corners of Kai's mouth slowly curved upward. A genuine, bright smile bloomed deep within his eyes. Didn't the absolutely unhinged, chaotic scene currently playing out perfectly, flawlessly encapsulate everything that had transpired today?
"I possess absolutely zero desire to discuss any specific individual."
"What I actually want to address is a massive, deeply entrenched cognitive distortion that has plagued this paddock for far too long."
"Certain teams, and certain specific drivers, have become completely accustomed to equating victory with absolute righteousness. They operate under the fundamentally flawed assumption that if they secure the victory, their actions were undeniably justified. But the objective reality is glaringly obviously the exact opposite. We have all witnessed the infamous 'Hand of God.' A victory is a victory, but that absolutely does not mean the methods utilized to secure it complied with the rules. If you fundamentally equate victory with righteousness, the inevitable conclusion is utilizing any means necessary, regardless of how despicable, to secure that victory. This mentality not only entirely obliterates the true spirit of competitive sports, but it actively promotes filthy, disgusting, and utterly ugly tactics that severely tarnish the integrity of this sport."
"They have been winning for so incredibly long that they have begun to suffer from a massive delusion. They genuinely believe that simply because they are the ones executing an action, that action is automatically permitted by the regulations."
A brief, highly calculated pause. Kai stared directly into the eyes of the assembled journalists. The entire crowd completely stopped breathing. The violently hammering hearts in their chests threatened to literally burst out of their throats—
The very first driver in the entire paddock who actually possessed the sheer courage to violently rip the mask off Mercedes-Benz had finally emerged! Was Kai genuinely preparing to go entirely nuclear?!
The air solidified into concrete.
"But that logic is fundamentally flawed."
It was a softly spoken sentence, but it possessed massive, undeniable weight. It struck the ground exactly like a massive thunderclap.
Because the journalists were so incredibly hyped, so completely overwhelmed by adrenaline, the entire world actually descended into absolute silence. The only movement was the massive, surging excitement continuously rolling within their wide, unblinking eyes.
There was perhaps only one solitary exception.
Kai's voice continued, relentlessly dropping massive bombshells. He delivered the verbal blows exactly like a devastating boxing combination, a suffocating, airtight barrage that offered absolutely zero room to breathe.
"The sporting regulations do not exist to serve the interests of a single, specific team. Nor do they exist simply to blindly uphold archaic traditions."
"The fundamental purpose of the regulations is to strictly protect every single participant operating within this sport, while simultaneously safeguarding the absolute purest, most essential elements of elite competition."
"From Niki Lauda to Ayrton Senna, the legends of this sport spent their entire lives desperately fighting to establish and defend these exact regulations. The rules they meticulously constructed through agonizing effort and massive personal sacrifice weren't designed solely to chase the absolute limits of speed. They were designed to protect the lives of the drivers, granting us the safety required to continue pushing the boundaries and creating infinite new possibilities for this sport."
"This weekend, when we gathered to honor Niki's legacy, we weren't merely celebrating his victories and his championship trophies. We were actively honoring his massive, monumental contributions to motorsport and the indomitable spirit he left behind on the asphalt."
Every single word, every single sentence was a razor-sharp blade aimed directly at the throat of Mercedes-Benz—
Hypocrites! Arrogant! Shameless! Filthy!
Every single word was a lethal dagger! This was absolutely indistinguishable from pointing directly at Mercedes-Benz's face and publicly screaming insults at them!
Slap after slap. Wave after wave. Striking from the left, striking from the right. Full, unmitigated firepower. Kai was in the process of completely, violently overturning the entire chessboard.
"It is long past time someone finally stepped forward and confronted them with the brutal reality: You are capable of making mistakes. You are capable of violating the regulations. You are absolutely not the innocent, flawless saints you constantly, aggressively portray yourselves to be."
"Do not attempt to utilize your veteran status to bully others, and absolutely do not utilize your championship trophies as a pathetic shield to justify despicable tactics. When the regulations are utilized to penalize others, they herald the rules as the ultimate sword of justice. But the exact second those same regulations are turned against them, they instantly morph into pathetic victims of massive, targeted political conspiracies."
"That is absolutely not how reality operates. They are equally required to accept their penalties, and they are equally required to adhere to the established rules."
"Every single time they face consequences, they instantly adopt the posture of victims. They aggressively invert reality, calling a deer a horse. This manipulative behavior does not magically transform them into genuine victims. It merely renders their victories filthy and utterly ugly. I sincerely doubt that this pathetic behavior aligns with their supposedly elite brand values, nor does it reflect the noble, 'champion's conviction' they so loudly advertise."
"Therefore—"
Another highly calculated pause. Kai straightened his spine. His eyes were blindingly bright. He stared directly into the massive bank of camera lenses. Yet, it felt exactly as though he wasn't looking at the journalists at all. It felt as though his gaze was piercing straight through the lenses, boring directly into the Mercedes-Benz personnel currently hiding in the shadows.
"If you truly wish to be regarded as a champion, and if you truly wish to act as a role model... you must possess the courage to openly acknowledge your own failures."
He abruptly ended his statement right there.
It was glaringly obvious that an unspoken 'Otherwise...' was hanging heavily in the air. But Kai didn't need to finish the sentence. Deliberately leaving the thought incomplete, allowing their imaginations to fill in the blanks, rendered the statement exponentially more lethal.
Bayonets drawn. Completely unrestrained aggression—
A fatal strike! Slitting the throat with lethal precision!
Kai held absolutely nothing back.
But he wasn't finished yet.
Although he hadn't used a single specific name, his seemingly casual, completely unbothered delivery was razor-sharp and viciously pointed. The underlying target of his ruthless dissection was glaringly, undeniably obvious. Even though the subject of his tirade wasn't physically present, a highly specific, singular image universally materialized in the minds of every single person listening. It was absolutely impossible to misinterpret.
Most importantly! Just moments ago! Barely thirty meters away from where they were currently standing! A certain someone had just finished aggressively playing the victim!
Standing there, projecting an aura of pathetic grievance, launching a massive wave of accusations. Utilizing their elite status and their World Championship pedigree to condescendingly dictate the rules of engagement, desperately attempting to entirely deflect responsibility.
And now! Kai's brutal, surgical statement had completely, violently ripped off that hypocritical mask! And he did it while explicitly invoking the name of Niki Lauda!
This wasn't merely a criticism or a formal accusation. This was a profound, utter humiliation.
GASP!
The journalists involuntarily inhaled a sharp, collective breath of freezing air.
The entire press corps... to be brutally honest, they had been desperately, eagerly waiting for exactly this type of explosive moment. They had constantly fanned the flames, aggressively adding fuel to the fire, desperately hoping Kai and Hamilton would genuinely enter the octagon and engage in a brutal, bloody, bare-knuckle brawl. However, when Kai actually dropped the massive, apocalyptic bombshell... the sheer, overwhelming force of the impact cascaded down upon them in massive waves. The rapidly escalating adrenaline surpassed its absolute limit, resulting in a state of profound, stunned shock. They all stood there exactly like wooden statues.
Is... is it genuinely okay for him to say this on the record?!
This was far more than a single slap. This massive, devastating combination of verbal blows was more than sufficient to violently detonate the entire paddock.
Yet, this still wasn't the end.
"As for the supposedly honorable, incredibly clean racing style..."
Kai let out a soft, dry chuckle. The corners of his mouth curved upward. His eyes were practically overflowing with undisguised mockery.
Whenever the media discussed Hamilton—especially the intensely biased British press—they constantly, aggressively emphasized that he was an "impeccably clean driver." Unlike Senna or Schumacher, they claimed he was very rarely involved in highly controversial, unsavory incidents. Regardless of victory or defeat, regardless of offense or defense, he was always supposedly flawlessly honorable. This was the specific narrative the Hamilton fanbase cited with the utmost, towering pride.
But was that actually the objective truth?
"If those specific adjectives are truly that critical to your identity, then they absolutely must be demonstrated through your actions on the asphalt. They absolutely do not belong in post-race PR statements or carefully crafted media press releases."
A light, effortless sentence, delivering a massive, fatal blow. If Mercedes-Benz was truly as honorable and impeccably clean as they claimed, these massive, toxic post-race controversies fundamentally would not exist.
And then, Kai calmly pulled a bright red Ferrari cap from his back pocket. Standing directly in front of the massive crowd of journalists, he slowly, deliberately, and incredibly formally placed it onto his head, taking a moment to carefully adjust the brim.
The sharp-eyed journalists immediately noticed a crucial detail. A black mourning ribbon was tied securely to the hat. It was Ferrari's highly specific, understated method of honoring Lauda's memory.
While Mercedes-Benz was loudly, aggressively, and incredibly publicly broadcasting Lauda's legendary achievements with the Silver Arrows, utilizing a massive, highly visible PR campaign... Ferrari had consistently chosen to honor the legend using their own quiet, deeply respectful methods.
This single, silent gesture possessed vastly more weight than a thousand empty words.
Kai offered a polite, respectful nod to the crowd. He didn't offer a single additional comment. He calmly, confidently began walking forward. The massive, three-layer-deep barricade of aggressive journalists miraculously parted in total silence. They orderly, respectfully cleared a wide path, exactly like the Red Sea miraculously parting for Moses. They silently watched Kai walk away.
However, absolutely no one was capable of tearing their eyes away. Their gaze remained locked entirely onto his tall, perfectly straight silhouette. Their hearts were surging with an unprecedented, massive wave of profound emotion.
From last season to the current campaign, Kai's relentless, brutal assaults on Mercedes-Benz's absolute dominance were glaringly obvious to everyone. So far this season, the only driver operating outside the Mercedes-Benz organization capable of successfully claiming a Grand Prix victory was this exact young man. Amidst Mercedes-Benz's increasingly terrifying, suffocating tyranny, Kai was the sole, solitary figure who remained absolutely unwavering, continuously, aggressively making his voice heard.
And now, Kai had officially sounded the horn for a massive, full-scale war against Mercedes-Benz off the track as well. From FIA rulings to public relations image, all the way down to their core brand value—
He was launching an absolute, all-out assault.
The conflict had evolved vastly beyond the simple, isolated incident of a single "secondary block" on the asphalt.
It didn't require a massive leap of imagination to predict the future. This massive storm was still brewing. The temperature was still rapidly escalating. It was highly likely that the entire paddock would eventually be violently sucked into the vortex.
Absolutely zero exceptions!
When the World Championship crown had violently changed hands last season, everyone assumed they were fully mentally prepared for the new era. But looking at the current reality... they merely thought they were prepared. As Kai systematically, violently overturned the established order of the paddock, step by agonizing step, he remained completely, effortlessly unbothered. Conversely, the supposedly seasoned observers found their knees buckling and their fingers trembling uncontrollably.
It was a profoundly embarrassing realization.
The journalists frantically exchanged wild, bewildered glances. Seeing the exact same expressions of profound shock and utter bewilderment mirrored on their colleagues' faces, they finally completely lost control. The chaotic chatter erupted. From hushed, frantic whispers, it rapidly expanded exactly like ripples in a pond, ultimately mutating into a massive, deafening tsunami that violently swept across the entire paddock.
In a matter of minutes, the entire paddock was boiling violently, exactly like a pot of water placed over a raging inferno.
Zhou Guanyu repeatedly turned his head, his eyes filled with profound confusion. He wasn't entirely certain if his assessment was correct. "Anthoine, are those people over there... are they aggressively discussing Kai?"
Hubert was busy scanning the massive crowd, desperately searching for Kai's silhouette. He answered without overthinking. "Obviously! Given what just happened, it would be incredibly bizarre if they weren't discussing him."
Zhou Guanyu tilted his head. The highly intense, shocked expressions plastered across the faces of the journalists and the Netflix documentary crew... they absolutely didn't look like they were debating race strategy or tire degradation. But if they weren't discussing the actual race, he genuinely couldn't imagine what else could possibly generate that level of frantic intensity. Ultimately, he was forced to temporarily shelve his curiosity.
"Anthoine! Over there!" Zhou Guanyu slapped Hubert excitedly on the shoulder. He had finally spotted Kai.
"Where?" Hubert asked.
"Right outside the Red Bull pit garage." Zhou Guanyu pointed directly at the scene.
Hubert froze. "Wait. What? Why is he over there?!"
When Zhou Guanyu and Hubert finally located the undisputed protagonist of the Monaco Grand Prix, Verstappen was currently engaged in a massive, furiously animated, spit-flying argument with Kai.
Clearly, the massive, heavy knot of rage trapped in Verstappen's chest simply refused to dissipate. After personally witnessing Kai ruthlessly dismantle Hamilton in front of the press, Verstappen had completely failed to suppress his own volatile temper. He had marched straight over, hunted Kai down, and immediately initiated a massive, heated debate. He was arguing his case with absolute, unyielding aggression. If he didn't secure a satisfactory conclusion to this argument today, it was highly probable he wouldn't be able to sleep for a week.
Forget about sleeping; he probably wouldn't even be able to stomach his dinner.
"...If that's your official stance, then the next time we're side-by-side, I'll happily initiate a massive collision with you too." Verstappen glared furiously, shooting absolute death rays from his eyes.
Kai instantly latched onto the critical keyword. "A collision? Not an attack? Max, exactly how old are you?"
Caught completely off guard by the abrupt pivot, Verstappen's focus was instantly derailed. Miraculously, he actually obediently answered the question. "Twenty-two."
Kai hadn't actually expected Verstappen to answer sincerely. He burst into loud laughter. "Exactly. We are not five or six years old anymore. We are absolutely no longer driving go-karts, okay? Following your flawless logic, since you deliberately caused a catastrophic collision in Baku last year that forced me to DNF... does that mean I am officially entitled to seek violent revenge? Am I obligated to treat my F1 car exactly like a bumper car and intentionally ram you off the circuit?"
Verstappen choked. Kai consistently, infuriatingly refused to operate according to standard logic. He completely failed to anticipate that Kai would aggressively drag the infamous Baku incident back into the conversation. He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. He dropped his voice to an annoyed, muttering grumble. "You're phrasing that exactly as if we actually raced go-karts together. When I was racing go-karts, we didn't even know each other, okay?"
He continued his relentless, muttered complaints. "You hold onto grudges like an absolute psychopath. You're seriously bringing up a racing incident from over a full year ago."
Kai, however, remained completely, openly unbothered. "Correct. I'm a Scorpio. I offer my sincerest apologies. But a certain someone is currently exhibiting the exact same behavior. I was actively attempting to leave the paddock, and yet I've been ambushed and held hostage right here in front of your garage."
Verstappen immediately straightened his spine, preparing to launch another volley. "But the objective reality of the incident is..."
Kai ruthlessly cut him off. "Correct. The objective reality is exactly this: I stubbornly committed to my offensive trajectory. You stubbornly committed to your defensive trajectory. But due to the inherent, unpredictable chaos of the Monaco circuit, the result was a collision. Therefore, we both must accept the consequences of our actions. We are both operating entirely according to our own aggressive racing styles. The next time a highly similar scenario arises, I will absolutely choose to attack again. And you will undeniably choose to defend again. That is the fundamental essence of racing, correct?"
"If you desperately want to act exactly like a certain someone else and endlessly, pathetically whine to the media... that is your absolute right."
Before Kai even finished the sentence, Verstappen's eyes went wide with pure outrage. "Those two scenarios are fundamentally, completely different, okay?!"
Seeing that Kai was preparing to deliver another counter-argument, Verstappen frantically waved his hands, completely dismissing the comparison. "No, no, no. Those situations are not remotely comparable. His secondary defensive block was so blatantly, glaringly illegal it was practically comical. Even if the FIA is completely incompetent, they shouldn't be stupid enough to ignore something that obvious. They're a bunch of absolute [BEEP]ing morons. How can you possibly compare my robust defense to his pathetic foul?"
"Furthermore! He merely received penalty points. No actual time penalty. And what about me?! What about ME?!"
"Could their blatant, pathetic attempt to artificially elevate Valtteri onto the podium possibly be any more glaringly obvious?!"
Blah, blah, blah. Relentless, endless complaining. It was a completely unstoppable torrent.
If Lambiase hadn't suddenly materialized to intervene, Verstappen's massive rant likely wouldn't have ended for hours.
But the truly miraculous, completely incomprehensible part was this: as the furious, highly aggressive Verstappen finally turned to leave... he actually bumped fists with Kai. Only then did he walk away.
Zhou Guanyu genuinely couldn't believe his own eyes. He waited until Verstappen was completely out of earshot before cautiously approaching Kai. "Kai... is he actually... okay?"
Kai burst out laughing. "If you want an accurate psychological profile on Max, you should probably consult Anthoine. My entire strategy was based entirely on the secret techniques he taught me."
Instantly, all eyes snapped directly to Hubert.
Hubert frantically waved his hands, looking completely panicked. "No! No, no, no! That was 100% Kai's doing... Wait, no, I didn't teach him anything! I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about..."
Kai laughed loudly, clapping Hubert affectionately on the shoulder. "Relax. We can officially debrief and comprehensively analyze the incredibly complex, highly entertaining history between you and Max over dinner tonight."
Today was a massive day for celebration. Not only had Kai successfully conquered Monaco, but Hubert had also secured his very first career victory in Formula 2. Although it was 'only' the Sprint Race, it was undeniably a massive, critical career milestone. And of course, Zhou Guanyu had crossed the finish line in P2 during that exact same Sprint Race, securing a massive podium finish. That was absolutely worthy of a massive celebration as well.
Therefore, the group of close friends had planned to go out and celebrate.
They had barely taken a single step when Kai suddenly froze. "Wait a second. I feel like I'm forgetting something massively important." He stood in place, rapidly scanning his memory. "Ah! Charles! I completely forgot about Charles!"
A few minutes ago, Kai had been in the process of returning to the Ferrari hospitality unit to locate his teammate. But he had been ambushed and held hostage by Verstappen directly in front of the Red Bull garage. The cold ocean breeze had apparently completely wiped Leclerc from his memory.
Kai broke into a rapid jog, sprinting back to the Ferrari hospitality area. However, when he arrived, Leclerc's private driver's room was completely empty. There wasn't a single trace of him. The room felt completely cold; he had clearly been gone for a while.
Spotting Clear walking down the hallway, Kai immediately intercepted him. "Have you seen Charles anywhere?"
"Charles?" Clear paused, thinking for a moment. "He left a while ago. He left with a young woman."
A microsecond prior, Kai had been genuinely worried about Leclerc. This year's Monaco Grand Prix had been absolute, unmitigated chaos. Catastrophe after catastrophe, with absolutely zero time to breathe. Following the conclusion of the race, he hadn't possessed a single opportunity to actually speak with Leclerc. He had absolutely no idea what Leclerc's current mental state was. It was entirely natural to be worried.
A microsecond later, a look of profound, utter bewilderment flashed through Kai's eyes. The situation had clearly, violently derailed from any logical trajectory. He honestly began to suspect his ears were malfunctioning.
"Did you say... a woman? And you specifically noted she was young?" Kai's initial, instinctual assumption had been Leclerc's mother, Pascale. But she absolutely didn't fit the 'young' description.
Clear nodded, confirming his statement. "I didn't get a clear look at her face, but judging purely from behind, she was definitely quite young. Blonde hair. Wait, actually, it might have been light brunette."
"She was quite petite. Standing next to Charles, she looked very delicate. She was wearing a short dress and carrying an Hermès handbag."
Kai desperately attempted to synthesize a coherent image based on Clear's fragmented description. Unfortunately, he completely failed. He aggressively scoured every single corner of his memory, but he still couldn't produce a single viable suspect.
At that exact moment, Clear suddenly remembered another detail. "Ah, right! Another young woman came looking for you earlier. She was accompanied by Lorenzo. But you were deeply involved in media interviews at the time, so they didn't wait. Lorenzo mentioned she left something specific for you inside your driver's room."
Question marks continuously exploded in Kai's brain. The situation was becoming increasingly bizarre.
After thanking Clear, Kai headed directly into his driver's room. He executed a quick, sweeping scan of the area. He instantly spotted a decorative throw pillow sitting perfectly centered on the sofa. Resting precisely on top of the pillow, positioned exactly like a crown resting on a velvet cushion, was a hat. It was incredibly prominent. It was impossible to miss.
The hat itself wasn't particularly remarkable. It was a standard, officially licensed Number 22 Ferrari team cap.
A cursory inspection revealed absolutely nothing unusual. Who on Earth would go out of their way to gift Kai a piece of generic, mass-produced Ferrari merchandise?
Kai picked up the hat and carefully turned it over, inspecting it closely. And then, he spotted a handwritten signature explicitly inscribed on the underside of the brim—
"To the Champion,
Anya."
Kai froze. And then, he burst into a loud, genuine laugh.
Literally every single person on the planet was constantly demanding signed hats from Kai. Yet, Anya had completely inverted the dynamic, presenting him with a hat bearing her signature.
Furthermore, the original retail tag was still firmly attached to the hat. Tucked neatly inside the tag was a printed receipt. Synthesizing all these microscopic details, it was glaringly obvious: Anya had actually used her own money to purchase the merchandise from a vendor.
When Kai noticed the handwritten note scrawled on the back of the receipt, he completely lost his battle for composure. His smile bloomed to its absolute maximum.
"P.S. If you are entirely unsatisfied with the product, you are fully authorized to process a return. However, please ensure you thoroughly conceal the massive, highly suspicious stain."
The 'stain,' obviously, referred entirely to her signature.
Kai could vividly, perfectly picture Anya's deadpan, completely unapologetic expression as she executed the brilliant prank.
The sound of Hubert and Zhou Guanyu's voices drifted from the doorway. "Kai! Charles!" They walked straight into the room, but immediately realized Kai was completely alone. The scene didn't match their expectations. "Wait, where's Charles?"
"I honestly have absolutely no idea." Kai shook his head. "According to the intel, Charles was spotted leaving the paddock accompanied by a mysterious young woman."
Before Kai even finished the sentence, Hubert had already pulled out his smartphone and was aggressively dialing Leclerc's number.
Zhou Guanyu looked highly intrigued. "Has Charles been actively dating someone recently?"
Kai spread his hands in a gesture of profound helplessness. "That is the absolute core of the mystery. I haven't detected a single, microscopic clue. I have aggressively searched my entire memory banks, and I cannot identify a single young woman who fits the description."
Zhou Guanyu shrugged casually. "But if he is actually dating someone, it isn't particularly shocking. I personally know countless girls who are completely obsessed with him."
Hubert lowered his phone and shook his head, looking concerned. "No answer. It went straight to voicemail. I just sent him a text demanding an immediate explanation."
Kai could clearly sense the genuine anxiety radiating from Hubert. In truth, Kai was experiencing a highly similar emotion. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a cause for massive concern. But today was fundamentally different. Leclerc had suffered his very first DNF of the season. And catastrophically, it had occurred at his monumentally significant home race. The 2019 season was undeniably, brutally diverging from their initial, optimistic projections.
However, Kai firmly planted his feet and proactively attempted to reassure Hubert. "Charles is a grown adult. He is fully capable of managing his own affairs. Perhaps he simply desperately requires some private space to decompress."
He paused for a beat, suddenly remembering the crucial detail. Leclerc absolutely wasn't alone. "He probably desperately wanted all of us annoying, overbearing bastards to get the hell away from him."
The lighthearted joke successfully diffused a significant portion of the tension in the room. Kai casually removed his official Monaco Grand Prix winner's cap and swapped it for the signed Ferrari cap Anya had just gifted him. He proactively stepped forward, greeting his friends. "You guys delivered absolutely phenomenal performances during the Sprint Race today. So, tell me the truth. What was it actually like racing on the streets of Monaco for the very first time? Did the reality match your expectations?"
That single question acted exactly like a match dropped onto dry kindling. It instantly detonated their enthusiasm. The overlapping, rapid-fire, highly animated stories violently collided. Pure, unadulterated happiness and absolute joy completely overflowed, completely saturating the room.