"Haha! Hahahaha!"
Matteo's laughter echoed, loud and unrestrained. He waved at the crowd. "I didn't realize he was actually a child! So mini! What are you going to do, kid? You won't even see my taillights in that piece of junk. Don't go crying when you lose."
It wasn't just Matteo. The rest of the crowd was equally stunned. The Ford Mustang Shelby was a shock to the system, but what came next was even more unbelievable.
A Mini Cooper?
Was this… even a race anymore?
A commotion rippled through the onlookers as they scrambled to pull out their phones, frantically calling or texting to change their bets.
Moments ago, they'd thought the arrogant poser Matteo had finally met his match. They would have loved to see him get taken down a peg while they made a little extra cash on the side.
But now, it seemed the underdog story they'd imagined was going to play out a little differently. And their money wasn't something they were willing to throw away on a fantasy.
A knot of worry tightened in Malèna's chest. She couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for Kai, her eyes fixed on the navy-blue Mini Cooper. Though the light was dim, she quickly spotted that there was more to it than met the eye.
The car was small, but it was no ordinary Mini.
And that engine note… Malèna tilted her head, trying to isolate the sound. It wasn't the deafening roar of the GT350, but it had a sharp, piercing quality, like the sound of something slicing through the air at high speed. It was clean and precise, like a dagger cutting through the thick night.
Malèna wasn't a driver, but she genuinely loved racing, and not just for the spectacle.
She narrowed her eyes, studying the car intently. She was almost certain it wasn't stock. It might not be able to compete with the Mustang on the straights, but the corners were a different story. In the tight, narrow streets of Rome, the Mini Cooper could actually have an advantage.
Just like in that movie, The Italian Job.
But it was clear that not everyone shared her sharp eye or her patience.
The crowd buzzed with chatter, the initial shock giving way to open mockery and ridicule. The mood of tense anticipation relaxed into one of general amusement. The race had become a joke.
Everyone knew the first rule of racing: the car comes before the driver. Even if Ayrton Senna himself were resurrected, he couldn't win in an inferior machine. Only when the hardware is on a similar level can a driver push to 100%, or even 120%, of their ability and make a race unpredictable. Otherwise, it's all pointless.
And without a doubt, a Mini Cooper and a Shelby Mustang were not in the same league. The race hadn't even started, but the crowd felt like they'd already seen the ending.
Kai pulled the Mini to a stop beside the Shelby. It looked like a kitten curled up next to a lion, the size difference only accentuating the Mustang's aggressive, muscular lines. Envious and admiring gazes lingered on Matteo's ride.
Matteo puffed out his chest, his arrogance practically punching a hole in the sky.
Kai made no flashy moves. With a light tap on the accelerator, the Mini seemed to glide forward, hugging the ground. He glanced at the instrument panel, a faint smile playing on his lips. Everything was exactly as he expected, calculated and controlled down to the last millimeter.
The car felt glued to the tarmac, ready to launch at a moment's notice.
The door opened, and a pair of long legs emerged first. His black leather jacket was unzipped, his white T-shirt fluttering in the breeze. His hair was slightly messy, but his expression was calm. There was no panic, no tension. He moved with a light, easy grace, as if he were just out for a nightly jog and this race had nothing to do with him.
Matteo couldn't resist another jab. "Did you bring that piece of junk to make a delivery? Wait, wait, let me see if I have a coin for your tip. Hahaha!"
Kai ignored him, turning instead to Lorenzo. "Are all Italians this talkative?"
Lorenzo stood up straighter. "I strongly object! One bad apple doesn't spoil the bunch."
Matteo looked utterly confused.
Kai glanced back at his car, his finger tracing an imaginary line in the air as if confirming something. He then looked back at Lorenzo and tipped his chin. "So, you skipped dinner after the race just to work on this?"
The Mini Cooper actually belonged to Lorenzo.
Kai had come to Rome alone. For the underground race earlier that night, Lorenzo had driven his own GTR, while Kai had taken the Mini. The little car suited Lorenzo's personality perfectly: understated, a wolf in sheep's clothing. The GTR, by contrast, was far too flashy for him.
The moment Kai had gotten behind the wheel just now, he'd felt the difference. The throttle mapping had been adjusted. It was even more responsive.
A look of genuine surprise flashed in Lorenzo's eyes. He hadn't expected Kai to be so perceptive. "Well, you gave me your feedback. Of course I had to make the changes immediately. Otherwise, the ten-hour flight you took from Shanghai would have been a waste, right?"
Matteo had a whole speech prepared to mock the Mini Cooper—did they seriously think they could beat his Mustang with that?—but Kai and Lorenzo were completely ignoring him, their back-and-forth shutting him out entirely. He had no idea how to interject, and the feeling was infuriating.
Was he invisible?
"This kid… he's interesting."
Todt and Samuel stood at the back of the crowd, making no move to get closer or draw attention. With everyone's focus glued to the spectacle of the Mustang and the Mini, no one noticed them.
Like everyone else, their gazes were fixed on the starting line. Samuel, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, found himself growing intrigued as he watched the kid with the baby face.
Todt stroked his chin, his interest piqued. "Have you noticed the kid's eyes?"
Calm. Unflustered. Composed. They reminded him of Michael Schumacher.
"There's nothing in them," Samuel observed.
Todt nodded. "Exactly. Nothing. Which means either he's a clueless fool who has no idea what's happening, or…"
…he is in complete control.
Todt didn't say the words aloud, but when he and Samuel exchanged a look, they both saw the same flicker of interest.
Todt could tell the Mini wasn't stock, but the problem was the overwhelming hardware advantage of the Shelby GT350. Furthermore, Rome's labyrinthine streets were a brutal test of a driver's agility, reflexes, and ability to improvise. Even experienced drivers had to be cautious here. Matteo, a Rome native, had a home-field advantage, while the baby-faced kid looked like an inexperienced rookie. The scales of victory were already heavily tipped.
Even so, Todt couldn't help but wonder how this kid planned to turn the tables.
A moment later, a voice crackled through a megaphone from the center of the square. "Drivers to your positions! The race is about to begin! Three-minute countdown!"
The crowd roared again, buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was eager to witness the GT350 in action, their conversations now focused on how the race would unfold.
How many corners would it take for the GT350 to leave the Mini in the dust?
What would the final gap between them be?
The two cars rolled into position. The Mustang took the outside lane, while the Mini was on the inside. Since the course was a counter-clockwise loop, this gave Kai a slight advantage off the line.
But it was only a slight one. After all, everyone was talking about the Shelby's raw horsepower. It would probably pull away and create a massive gap from the very start.
Lorenzo leaned against the driver-side window for one last check. "You remember the route?"
Kai clicked his seatbelt into place without looking up. "Got it."
"Then I won't bother reminding you that you're up against a five-hundred-horsepower, rear-wheel-drive monster."
"And do you need to remind me that we're the kitten?" Kai retorted dryly.
Lorenzo chuckled. He glanced around before lowering his voice. "Man, do you have any idea how many people bet against you tonight?"
A smirk finally touched Kai's lips. "Looks like we're about to make a fortune."