Apex

Chapter 6 – “Apex”

The hotel room was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant city noise bleeding in through the window.

Nick sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. Tomorrow he would be flying out to Japan for media day, in transition to the Japanese Grand Prix.

Scrolling on his phone, Nick read headline after headline.

ROOKIE ACHIEVES P4 ON DEBUT!

THE FUTURE OF F1 PASSES HIS FIRST TRUE TEST!

THE BEST RESULT OF AN AMERICAN DRIVER IN YEARS!

It was as if the noise had followed him back to his hotel room.

As he continued scrolling, a notification popped up.

The phone began to vibrate.

And a familiar name popped up.

“Areum”

Nick pressed the green button. A second passed.

Then—

Her face appeared.

Areum was sitting cross-legged on a couch, an oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, sleeves hiding her hands. Her hair was twisted into a loose, careless bun, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. No stage lights. No makeup, just her natural beauty.

“Hey,” she said softly, eyes lighting up more than any headline. “What do you want?”

Nick exhaled.

“You’re the one who called.”

She smiled. Not an idol’s perfect smile, a real one.

“I’m just messing with you,” she said, casually. “I just got off practice so I’m in the mood to unwind and relax.”

Nick loosened his shoulders, not realizing they’d been tense.

“Yeah. I, uh… figured you’d be awake.”

“Barely. We just wrapped up rehearsal. I’m running on iced coffee and stubbornness.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said.

For a moment, neither spoke. They just looked at each other—two people in different worlds, tethered by a glowing screen.

She shifted slightly on the couch, drawing her knees closer together. Her eyes studied his face on the screen.

“I was wondering,” she said, “Do you always talk like that now?”

“Like what?” Nick asked, somewhat confused.

Areum tilted her head, pretending to think.

“Confident,” she said. “In most of the interviews or videos I’ve seen of you, you sound like you’re really embracing your place in F1.”

Nick scoffed. “That’s a weird way to describe it.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Because earlier today, I heard something interesting from you.”

Nick stilled.

“…You watched the race interview.”

She smiled. This time it was a slow and dangerous smile.

“I finished P4,” she said in a mocking tone, mimicking his interview from earlier.

Nick groaned, as Areum rested her chin against her sleeve-covered hand.

“I’m not making fun of you.” She clarified.

“Feels like it.”

“I’m playing with your words,” Areum corrected. “There is a difference.”

Nick watched her carefully.

“But” she continued, “It’s not a bad thing. It’s quite…cute actually.”

“Cute?”

She nodded. “You used to be quieter. Shyer. You talked about cars and racing like they were this secret world only you could see. And honestly?” She smiled faintly. “Most people didn’t really understand it. Or take you seriously.”

Nick looked away for a moment, remembering long locked memories that made him cringe.

“And now,” she went on, “you stand there in front of cameras and say things like you belong. Like you always knew you’d be there.”

He exhaled. “I guess I didn’t always know, but I never stopped believing.”

“I know,” she said gently. “Neither did I.”

Then Areum added, almost absentmindedly, “I guess that’s why it caught my attention so much.”

“Why?”

She met his gaze again.

“Because if you’re there now,” she started, voice half-serious and half-teasing, “then I will be too.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Areum let out a soft laugh. Smiling, she answered.

“I’ll be in Japan too,” she revealed. “Tokyo first. Then Nagoya.”

Nick’s breath hitched before he could stop it.

“Nagoya?” he repeated. “That’s…close to Suzuka.”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Very.”

Nick let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Guess you’re the one person who can expose me for not actually being cool.”

“Nope,” she said. “If you’re going to pretend to be some cool hotshot, I want to be there to reveal the truth.”

The two laughed as their eyes held through the screen.

Nick leaned back against his headboard, still smiling. Though the laughter had faded, the warmth did not.

“Obviously,” Areum replied. “I can’t let the world think you’re actually that cool.”

“That’s harsh.”

“It’s honest.”

He laughed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” she said. “That’s why I get to say it.”

Nick glanced at the corner of the screen, then back at her. “How long are you in Japan?”

“Long enough,” she said vaguely. “Why?”

“No reason,” he replied too quickly. “Just… planning how much trouble I’m about to get into.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement. “Already assuming we’ll see each other?”

He shrugged. “Nagoya’s not exactly far.”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Convenient, isn’t it?”

A beat.

“You nervous?” she asked.

“About Suzuka?” he said. “Always.”

“And about me being there?”

He paused just long enough to be obvious. “Maybe a little.”

She smiled at that—not wide, not teasing. Something quieter.

“Relax,” she said. “I’ll be cheering you on during the race.”

“Is that so?”

“I might still judge your interviews, though.”

He groaned. “I knew that wouldn’t be all.”

“Of course there are,” she said lightly. “If you say something ridiculous again, I’m bringing it up immediately.”

“Even if I win?”

“Especially if you win.”

Nick shook his head, amused. “You’re dangerous.”

She leaned closer to the camera, voice soft but playful.

“You’ve always known that.”

Their eyes held for a second longer than necessary.

Then she added, casually, “Just don’t forget I’m there, I know you won’t be that busy.”

His smile faded into something warmer. “I won’t.”

“Good,” she said. “I’d hate to have flown all that way for nothing.”

“Yeah,” he replied, just as lightly. “That’d be tragic.”

Areum once again shifted on the couch, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie back over her hands.

“You should probably get some rest,” she said. “Don’t you fly out tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Nick replied. “You too, sounds like your schedule is busy with your world tour and all of that.”

Areum smiled. “Yep, it is my first world tour. There are an endless amount of things to do behind the scenes.”

“I see. I suppose I kind of know what that’s like.”

“I’m sure you do.” Areum’s expression changed, became more tender. “I’m glad…you’ll be there.”

Nick froze for a second, a beat of silence before he responded.

“Me too.”

Another beat passed.

“Well,” Areum said, saving them both from awkward silence, “clearly you need some work with publicity. As an idol, you could stand to learn a thing or two.”

Nick laughed.

“I’d expect nothing less from Korea’s biggest idol.”

Areum adjusted the phone slightly, the angle exposing her quiet room. She was smiling, small, yet real.

“You need to go to sleep now, smooth operator. Text me when you land.”

“I will.”

“Good,” she said. “First lesson, someone wanting to be smooth and cool should not leave a girl waiting.”

“Well, I’m not sure who I’d keep waiting.” Nick smiled. “Good night, Areum.”

“Good night, Nick.”

The screen went dark.

Nick stayed still for a moment, phone still in hand, the hum of the city replacing the noise in the room.

He laid down, staring at the ceiling, replaying the call in his head.

Eventually, he set the phone down and went to sleep.

For someone used to speed, for once Nick wished that time could slow down.

Two Days Later

The cabin lights dimmed as the plane began its descent.

Nick looked out the window as Japan rose into view beneath a thin veil of clouds. The coastline curved into sight, cities clustered tightly together, lights beginning to flicker on as dusk settled in.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the captain’s voice came over the intercom, “we’ll be landing at Chubu Centrair International Airport shortly.”

Japan.

Suzuka.

Nick leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes briefly.

Text me when you land.

His phone buzzed gently in his hand as the plane touched down, tires screeching against the runway.

è You landed yet?

A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

ç Just did.

Outside the window, the lights of Japan blurred past.

This week wasn’t just about racing anymore.

It was about timing.

And for once, it felt like everything was lining up just right.

The Japanese café was small and tucked in a side road off the main street; one of those places that you would stumble upon by accident. Outside, the usual traffic moved in soft, orderly streams with the occasional noise of cars or trains in the distance.

Nick sat across from Areum at a narrow wooden table, a cup cooling in front of him. He wore a brown-and black plaid flannel, unbuttoned, over an oversized white t-shirt. It was complimented by baggy green cargo pants below, freely flowing over khaki-colored sneakers. On his head, Nick wore a cream-colored cap, backwards, featuring a dark blue logo above the brim.

Areum wore a pale blue cardigan—thick-knit and slightly oversized—hanging loosely on her frame. Beneath it, a cream turtleneck rose, clean and smooth, up to her neck; her trousers were a gentle ivory, tailored but relaxed, falling straight and unhurried. She was concealing herself with a matching blue bucket hat, with her hair tucked away messily. A medical-grade facemask finalized the disguise, though she would pull it down to drink.

“So,” Areum said stirring her drink slowly, “how hard is it for you to dodge cameras here?”

“Surprisingly hard, actually,” Nick replied, breaking to sip on his coffee. “I raced in the regional series here before I made it to Formula One, and Enstone uses an engine from a Japanese manufacturer, so you’d be surprised how many people follow me.”

“Right, I remember now. Winning that series back home won you a scholarship to race here didn’t it?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than necessary, and Nick became acutely aware of how different this felt from seeing her on a screen. Here, there was no slight delay, no digital filter. Just her, leaning forward slightly, hoodie sleeves bunched at her wrists, cap pulled low enough to cast a faint shadow over her eyes.

“Yep, those were good times. And you?” he asked. “You also have a huge fanbase here, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we run into your fans.”

“No. I told my manager I was going out to meet a friend, so all they said was to be careful.”

Nick winced subtly at one of the words in that sentence but quickly put it off.

“That’s it?”

Areum shrugged slightly. “I’m pretty trustworthy it seems.”

“Must be nice,” he said. “Marcus seems to think I would say something stupid if a fan did recognize me.”

She glanced at him over the rim of her cup.

“He’s not the only one who thinks that.”

“Wow,” Nick replied, with a deadpan tone. “You’re ruthless.”

“You have to admit I have a point,” Areum replied, lips curving beneath the mask. “You can’t just say things on camera and expect them not to follow you.”

Nick lifted his hands, as if surrendering.

“You always did like correcting me.”

“Someone had to,” Areum replied. “You always thought you could talk your way out of anything.”

“I could talk my way out of most things.

Areum hummed. “Keyword there being ‘most.’”

A soft silence followed. Mick watched the condensation slide down the side of his cup, then glanced back at Areum. She was tracing idle drawings on the tabletop with one finger, her shoulders loose and relaxed.

“So,” Nick began, breaking the silence, “Tokyo treating you, okay?”

Areum nodded. “Busy, loud, the usual.”

“Any time to breathe?”

Areum tilted her head cutely, thinking. “Not really. I had a free spot in my schedule which is why I am here.”

Nick’s gaze flicked up to hers. “I’m glad you came.”

She met his eyes. “Me too.”

Both their gazes landed softly, likely softer than either had intended.

Outside, a train passed nearby, the low rumble threading through the air. The café door chimed as someone entered, before quickly settling.

“According to all your vlogs, you always liked places like this,” Nick said after a moment. “Quiet. Out of the way.”

Areum smiled faintly. “Wow, someone pays very close attention.”

“Details like that stick in my mind,” Nick replied, taking a sip of his coffee in between. “…sometimes.”

Nick thought to make sure to add the “sometimes”.

Areum, however, caught onto the first half of what Nick had said. She raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes huh? Nick, are you an AERIS by chance?” Areum asked, referring to the name of her fandom.

Nick audibly choked on his coffee, or rather the words that had just came out of Areum.

“I—what?” Nick continued coughing and set his cup down. “No. I mean, not officially…”

Areum leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying this situation far too much. “That hesitation says otherwise.”

“I just meant I’ve…seen videos,” Nick responded, trying to choose his words carefully. “Like when I would scroll on social media, sometimes videos would come up by accident.”

“By accident,” she echoed.

“Like,” he continued, gesturing vaguely, “recommended videos. Clips. From…you know…those AERIS fan accounts.”

Areum smiled slowly. “Mhm. That sounds exactly like something an AERIS would say.”

Nick shook his head, grinning despite the probing. “Is it a crime to know the name of your fandom?”

“No,” she said, laughing lightly. “It’s just interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

Areum leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Interesting that you would remember things that only dedicated AERIS would notice.”

Laughing softly, Areum pulled her mask down to take another sip of her drink. When she set it back on the table, she didn’t pull her mask up right away.

Nick lifted his hands.

“Well, when I see the videos, I notice…in many ways you haven’t actually changed that much.”

Areum raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“You do a lot of the same things,” Nick continued, slowing his voice down. “The little habits, like how you tilt your head when you are in thought, or how you trace shapes with your fingers when you are bored. Yes, AERIS would notice this kind of stuff through vlogs and fancams, but I noticed them back when we were in class…or on the bus…whenever you were pretending your mind was in one place when really, you were in another.”

Areum blinked. Her hand stilled on the table.

“So, you weren’t just watching my performances,” she teased gently.

“I guess,” Nick continued, “Everyone else saw Lee Areum, the idol, and all her cute quirks. I kept seeing the same Areum from back then.”

A silence had formed between them. Simultaneously, Areum’s lips curved into a soft smile.

“You make it sound like I haven’t grown at all.”

“You have.” Nick said immediately.

“Excuse me?”

“A lot. You’re incredible now, as you were back then.”

Areum looked down at her drink, then back up at Nick. “Well, that’s quite a difference than what people normally say about me. They always talk about who I am in interviews, or onstage.”

Nick watched her for a moment, then shrugged lightly. “I guess interviews don’t leave much room for everything else.”

“Everything else?” Areum echoed.

“The parts in between,” he replied.

“You always liked those parts,” Areum said, with a warm smile.

“They were my favorite.”

Those words seemed to catch Areum off guard. She let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.

“It’s funny,” she started. “I spend so much time conscious about how people see me now; I forget that there are people who remember who I was before debuting.”

Nick tilted his head. “You’re not someone I could ever forget.”

Her gaze lifted to his again, warm and searching. For a moment, it felt like the café had gone quieter around them.

“You make it sound very simple,” she said.

“It kind of is,” he replied. “You’re still you.”

She looked down at her hands, then back up, a hint of something familiar flickering across her face—comfort, maybe. Or recognition.

“…Being here feels easy,” she admitted, almost casually. “I didn’t expect that.”

Nick smiled. “Me neither.”

She laughed softly, then pulled her mask back up, as if only just remembering where they were. But her eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary.

“Well,” she said lightly, reaching for her cup, “I guess that explains why I didn’t think twice about coming.”

He met her gaze. “I’m glad you did.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The café’s low hum settled back in—the quiet clink of cups, the muted conversation from a table near the window.

“So,” Areum said at last, curling her fingers around her cup, “what’s next for you after Suzuka?”

Nick leaned back slightly. “It’s straight to Korea.”

Her eyes lifted. “Back-to-back?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The lack of a break is going to be rough. Suzuka’s intense on its own, and Korea’s still… unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable how?”

“It’s a newer circuit,” he explained. “Everyone’s still learning it. It’s also a street circuit, meaning every inch of the track is going to be really tight, and you don’t get much forgiveness if you get it wrong.

She smiled faintly. “That sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

He laughed. “Why do you say that?”

“You always liked figuring things out,” she said. “You were always the type to welcome situations where you had no idea what you were doing.”

Nick thought about that for a second, then nodded. “I guess that’s true.”

She smiled. “I think you handle pressure better than you think.”

He met her gaze. “Having someone who understands that helps.”

Her smile softened, just a little. “Then I’ll be cheering extra hard.”

“Guess I’d better not mess it up,” he replied, “I wouldn’t want to end up in a wall.”

She laughed quietly. “You’ll be fine. You always are.”

Areum glanced at her phone again, this time not bothering to hide the sigh that followed.

“I really should go,” she said, though she didn’t stand right away. “If I’m late getting back, someone’s going to start asking questions.”

“Yeah,” Nick replied. “And you’re very bad at lying.”

She scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You always hesitate before answering,” he said. “Just long enough to give yourself away.”

She paused, then smiled. “Okay, that’s unfair.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound folding easily into the café’s low hum.

She pulled her mask back up and adjusted the bucket hat, tucking a loose strand of hair away. Nick watched the movement without thinking—how practiced it was, how instinctive.

“Good luck this weekend,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied. “I’ll need it.”

“You’ll be fine,” she said, certainty woven into her voice. “I believe in you.”

He stood as well, slipping his cap on properly. For a moment, they hovered there—neither quite ready to move first.

“I’m glad we did this,” she added. “It feels… nice.”

“Yeah,” Nick said softly. “It does.”

She hesitated, then added lightly, “I look forward to seeing you on screen for media day. I want to hear how ridiculous the questions get.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

That seemed to satisfy her. She gave him one last look—warmth evident in her eyes and smile—then turned and headed for the door.

Nick watched her disappear down the side road before he finally paid the bill and stepped back into the afternoon air himself.

The city carried on around him, orderly and calm.

Suzuka waited.

And somehow, he felt steadier for it.

Two Days Later — Suzuka Circuit

The paddock buzzed with controlled chaos. Media day on Thursday before the race.

Banners fluttered overhead, sponsor logos lining the walkways as staff hurried between garages and media zones. Cameras were already set up near the main stage, cords taped neatly to the ground, a sense of awe and anticipation rippling through the crowd.

Nick stood just off to the side, hands in his pockets, listening as a PR coordinator ran through last-minute instructions.

“Smile, wave, keep it short,” she said. “The media is likely going to ask you about your strong performance last race.”

He nodded absently.

The host—an energetic man in a sponsor jacket— greeted him warmly, launching into the usual introduction: rookie sensation, breakout debut, eyes on Suzuka. Nick answered the first few questions smoothly, settling into the rhythm.

Then the host smiled wider.

“We have something special today! A special guest who will be joining us for this interview. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of the world’s biggest idols, fresh on her world tour, Lee Areum!”

The crowd erupted again.

Nick’s brow furrowed.

The music changed—brighter, and more familiar.

The LED screen behind him flickered.

And then—

Lee Areum appeared.

Not on the screen.

On the stage.

For half a second, Nick genuinely forgot where he was.

She walked out from behind the curtain, beautifully and radiantly composed, dressed in a black dress tailored close to the body. Gold buttons ran down the front in clean symmetry, catching the light like quiet punctuation marks. Her hair fell long and dark over one shoulder, softening the strength of the outfit, blending elegance and control.

The crowd reaction was instant—screams, phones lifting, flashes firing in rapid succession.

Nick’s PR coordinator stood at the edge of the stage, eyes sharp, giving him a subtle thumb-up, signaling don’t mess this up.

Areum angled her mic toward her lips, speaking in smooth Japanese first—short, polite, perfectly timed for applause—then repeated in English for the international cameras. “Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to be here at Suzuka, not only to promote my ongoing tour, but also to get to experience this race. I actually do follow F1, I became a fan fairly recently.”

Another wave of cheers.

Nick tried hard not to look impressed.

Tried and failed.

The host turned to him next. “Nick Young! Coming off an incredible debut, P4 in your first race. How are you feeling coming into Suzuka?”

Nick’s mind immediately offered a dozen honest answers:
Tired. Overhyped. Slightly terrified.

Instead, he smiled, the safe answer ready.

But before he could speak, Areum leaned in again—barely a shift, like she was adjusting her stance for the cameras.

“I watched the Australia race,” she voiced confidently, “nothing short of a brilliant performance.”

Nick’s smile twitched. “Well, to hear that from someone like you, I am humbled and honored at the same time.”

“Oh, is that so,” she asked back.

“Sure. From someone my age who is also such a beautiful and amazing performer to comment that, well then, I can’t help but smile”

Then Nick lifted his mic and answered the host, keeping it clean. “I’m excited. Suzuka’s a track I’ve dreamed about for a long time. I’m ready to learn and give the fans a good weekend.”

Safe. Polished. Marcus would approve.

The host nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful! Now—Areum, we heard you’re also performing in Japan this week?”

Areum’s smile didn’t change, but Nick caught the tiniest pause—like her mind checked a schedule in the background.

“Yes,” she said smoothly. “We have events in Tokyo and Nagoya.”

The crowd reacted at the mention of Nagoya, and Nick felt the irony of it land in his chest.

We’re both here. In the same week. In the same place.

The host’s eyes gleamed like he’d found something. “Nagoya! Not far from here. Nick, maybe you’ll have time to attend?”

Nick’s PR coordinator stiffened visibly.

Nick was already shaking his head, ready to laugh it off.

“No unfortunately. I wish I could, I’m quite a long-time fan of hers, and getting to see her live is one wish that has yet to be granted to me”

It was the perfect answer.

Still, Nick glanced at her.

She didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed on the host, her smile untouched.

But her shoulder brushed his for half a second as she shifted.

A small contact. Accidental. Probably.

Nick swallowed the thought before it grew teeth.

The host laughed. “Wow, who knew that the two of you were fans of each other! But we can still have a little fun today, yes? We have a small segment prepared—some quick questions!”

Nick’s PR coordinator mouthed: keep it short.

Areum’s manager at the other side of the stage mouthed: smile.

The host pointed between them. “First question—what is something you respect about each other’s profession?”

Nick answered first, because if he didn’t, he might overthink it. “The discipline,” he said. “The fact that you perfect performances are the standard. Even the best drivers can tell you that not every race is perfect.”

The crowd liked that—cheers, a few shouted names.

Areum turned her mic up slightly. “For him,” she said, eyes sparkling with practiced charm, “it’s bravery. To willingly think to himself that he can step on the brakes later in every corner is nothing short of courage.”

The crowd laughed. Nick did too.

“That’s not bravery,” he said into his mic. “It’s called being stupid.”

Areum’s eyes slid to him for the briefest moment. “Same thing.”

He felt that line hit cleaner than it should’ve.

The host continued. “Second question—if you could switch jobs for one day, what would you do?”

Areum didn’t hesitate. “I would sit in the car.”

The crowd roared.

Nick’s PR coordinator looked like she was about to faint.

Nick blinked. “You would?”

Areum lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Just one lap.”

Nick laughed, trying to keep it light. “That’s all you can handle?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m afraid that I won’t even be able to start the car.”

The host grinned. “Nick, your answer?”

Nick raised his mic. “I’d—” He stopped himself from saying follow her around and see how she does it because that sounded like an internet clip waiting to happen.

So he went safer. “I’ve never been much of a singer actually.”

The crowd laughed again. Areum laughed too—realer than her stage laughs, quieter, directed at him rather than them.

“That would be a disaster,” she murmured, too soft for the mic.

Nick murmured back, “You’d still make me do it.”

“Obviously.”

The host clapped his hands. “Final question! One word to describe the other.”

Nick froze.

One word. Quick. Clean.

But the problem wasn’t the cameras.

It was that Areum was standing right there, and the café version of her—the one who smiled softly and said being here feels easy—was still in his head.

Areum spoke first, saving him.

“Determined,” she said, without hesitation.

The word came out warm, like she believed it.

Nick blinked, then smiled. “Beautiful.”

The crowd erupted into cheer again.

But Areum’s eyes stayed on him a fraction longer than the script required.

Nick felt something in his chest settle into place—small, steady, almost like relief.

The host wrapped up the segment, thanking them both. Music swelled again. They waved, smiled, played their parts.

Then—finally—the lights shifted and the stage crew signaled the end.

As they stepped offstage, the noise changed from applause to chatter and camera shutters, a swarm of voices trying to catch a last angle.

Nick’s PR coordinator immediately moved in. “Great. Perfect. Audience loved you out there.”

Areum’s team did the same, guiding her with gentle urgency.

For a second, their paths nearly split.

Areum glanced back over her shoulder.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was barely anything.

But Nick caught it.

He matched her pace just enough to come alongside her for two steps—close enough that no one would notice, close enough that he could speak without being heard.

“Looks like the fans enjoyed that,” he said.

Areum’s eyes softened, the smallest crack in her public mask. “You thought you were being smooth there huh?”

“Well I couldn’t let your compliments be unmatched now.”

She leaned in slightly as they walked, like she was just listening over the crowd.

“Text me later,” she murmured. “Tell me what they say about your interview there.”

Nick smiled. “And if I said something that follows me?”

Her eyes curved. “Then I’ll remind you forever.”

He laughed under his breath. “Deal.”

A handler gently guided her away, and just like that, she was swallowed by staff and cameras again—Lee Areum, an untouchable idol.

Nick kept walking toward the garage zone, the paddock noise rushing back in.

Behind him, he heard a fan’s excited voice, high and breathless:

“Did you see the way they looked at each other?”

Nick didn’t turn around.

But the warmth from the café—and the tiny, unscripted moments onstage—stayed with him anyway.

Later that day

Nick rested his helmet beside him and the noise of the paddock dulled to a low hum, his phone buzzed.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

He glanced down.

Clips were already everywhere.

A slowed-down moment of them laughing.
A screenshot of her shoulder brushing his arm.
A strange musical edit of the way her eyes lingered after he said beautiful.

The captions varied wildly; it was mainly speculation, jokes, questions.

Nick locked the screen before he could read too much into any of it.

He leaned back against the workbench, exhaling slowly.

This weekend wasn’t just about Suzuka anymore.
And Korea was coming fast.

Somewhere across the paddock, Areum was probably doing the same thing—slipping back into her world, her schedule, her careful composure.

But for a moment, they shared the same stage.

And the world had noticed.

Nick picked up his helmet.

Tomorrow, the lights will go out.

And everything would start moving very, very fast.