My Formula 1 System

Any air-conditioned place Luca had ever been in always turned out to be too cold, freezing and unbearably uncomfortable.

But as he sat in the limo, the built-in AC was the mildest he had ever experienced.

The best word for it was chill, a soothing and balanced coolness that neither numbed his skin nor made him wish for a jacket.

He drummed his fingers on the window sill, staring out at the headquarters' premises. Luca was looking anywhere but directly into the eyes of the elderly man seated opposite him and Coastfield.

The elderly man had pale white hair, thin and wispy, barely clinging to his scalp, yet neatly combed back, as if he still cared about appearances.

His skin was frail, sagging around his jaw, and a deep frown line creased his forehead. This was Mr. Almansa, CEO of Nevada HanSama.

He was very old—well into his 80s—but his sharp eyes never dulled, no matter his age. And with those sharp eyes, he had been studying Luca ever since he entered the limo.

"This lad will either help us or drag us straight to ruin," Mr. Almansa muttered, his aged teeth grinding together.

Coastfield sat up straighter. "So, is that your confirmation, sir?"

"Of course it is," Mr. Almansa snapped. "Look at him. He even looks more silly than his father did!"

Luca frowned. He had come here to discuss future plans with the team that had just put a price on him, not to be judged like some kid at an audition.

Then he felt himself move. No, not him—the vehicle. "We're moving?"

"Yes," Coastfield answered, while Mr. Almansa's sharp eyes never left Luca. "Conversations flow better when the city moves past the windows."

"I wanted to greet my team crew and chill with them."

"Your former team crew," Coastfield corrected, her tone smooth. "Consider yourself a red stallion now. And you still have plenty of time to dine with them if it comes to that."

Luca exhaled and leaned back into the soft leather seat. His gaze met Mr. Almansa's for a brief moment before dropping to the old man's hands.

The fingers were covered in rings, ancient ones, some probably on his hands for half a century. This was old money sitting across from him, wealth built long before Luca had ever worn a diaper.

"Am I being signed because I'm a good driver, or because I'm Aldo's son?" Luca asked.

"Both," Coastfield replied. "But once you're in the team... we'll be making some adjustments to that identity."

"You'll see more about it in the contract, dear," she added with a knowing smile.

Luca squinted at her, studying her face. That smile was too wide, too eager. "Who are you, exactly? Mr. Almansa here is the CEO. What's your position?"

Coastfield's smile shifted, less broad now and more measured. "I'm an agent under our HDD, and since this year, I've been the one pushing for our team to go after you," she explained. "And I'm also here to prove to Mr. Almansa that you will be an asset, not our downfall."

Luca looked out the window, letting their words drift around him.

"All we're saying is that we're looking forward to working smoothly with you," Coastfield continued. "Giving you the best privileges, as a tribute to the late Aldo, and letting the legacy carry on..."

Legacy? My father never even won a championship. Zero F1 Drivers' Championships for Rennick the Rocket.

What did he even do to get such fame and liking?

"That'll be great," Luca said, keeping his tone even. "But I don't want anything too cliché. No changing my race number to his #12, no sentimental tributes, no wearing something of his. I want my own career."

Mrs. Coastfield's eyes lit up. She turned to Mr. Almansa with a smile so wide it almost looked rehearsed.

"Exactly! Perfect! That's what we all want! Your own career! You! Luca! Just you, driving for Nevada as great as you can, and leading us to victory after victory."

Too much enthusiasm...

"We really see your family to heart and we care about you all," Mrs. Coastfield continued, fully embracing her talking nature. "We understand this might be a very memorable Christmas for you all. I was really touched when your mother broke into tears at the Gala. I bet this Christmas will be the best in a while?"

Luca thought of his fixed date with Isabella. He wondered if they were officially a thing or if the date and a kiss afterward would be needed to seal it.

Either way, this was the most serious endeavor he had pursued. This Christmas would definitely be memorable.

"Yes, it will," Luca replied.

"Wonderful. But since we want everything done quickly before the new season in mid-March, we need to get everyone's signature by... the first of January?"

"That's New Year," Luca pointed out.

"Okay, let's rephrase. The third of January? We really need things sealed, Luca," Coastfield said, her tone shifting, like it wasn't just her speaking but Mr. Almansa speaking through her.

Luca nodded and glanced out the window again.

Then he froze.

The surroundings were too familiar.

This was Dahlem.

What were they doing here?!

Mrs. Coastfield acted as if she didn't notice Luca's surprised expression and casually suggested they exchange numbers for better communication and to smoothen any friction.

Luca gave her his number, but his mind was elsewhere. Why were they nearing his neighborhood? Was this just the route they took? No, it was too uncanny for that.

Before he could piece things together, the limo rolled to a stop right in front of his house.

"We're here," Coastfield said, glancing at Mr. Almansa as if expecting him to say something final.

Luca frowned. "We're here?" He leaned forward. "I never asked for a ride home. And how do you even know my address?" He stretched his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver. Maybe it was the cab driver from earlier?

Coastfield chuckled and placed her right hand on Luca's left shoulder. "If you think your house is private and hidden, you're mistaken."

Luca really didn't like the sound of that.

He opened the door and stepped out, his thoughts still tangled in the strange encounter. As he strode to the gate, he paused, waiting for them to leave, the limo humming quietly behind him.

Then, the left window slid down, and Coastfield leaned out again.

"Please, hear no offers from Nordvind or anyone else. And let's get those personal terms agreed on as soon as possible, okay?"

"Sure," Luca replied, though he barely processed the words.

He watched as Mrs. Coastfield disappeared back into the car, the window sliding up, but not before giving him one last glimpse of Mr. Almansa's stern, aged gaze.

The limo drove off.

Luca turned, pushed open the gate, and checked the time. It was a few minutes past 5 PM.

He sighed and stepped inside.

Something about Nevada HanSama wasn't sitting right with him. And no, it wasn't just Mrs. Coastfield's talkative nature because he had known more talkatives in his life. It wasn't even Mr. Almansa's imposing demeanor.

It was the subtle things she said.

Like when she mentioned pushing for them to go after him.

A team like Nevada HanSama, one that had been starving for prodigies, shouldn't have needed convincing to sign a star youngster like him.

So what did that mean? That they had been deliberately ignoring him? Rejecting him every time Coastfield appealed?

And now, all of a sudden, they wanted him, applying for his transfer late over Outback and making sure Trampos got a good offer so the deal would be unchallenged?

Luca sighed. Since when did sports require this much overthinking outside the actual battlefield? He figured he'd think about it later.

Right now, what really bothered him was what Coastfield had said.

His house wasn't private and hidden?