((~2 years after Symboli Rudolf's bot "Audience" and shortly after Orfevre's previous bot "Pace" — Tracen Academy Student Council Room))

The eastern wing of Tracen Academy always felt different from the rest. At the far end stood a pair of heavy doors marked with the crest of the Student Council. Inside, the room beyond was warmer than expected.

Small gifts and welcome-back notes had been left across one side of the desk. Several framed documents leaned against the wall awaiting replacement, while stacks of folders sat in careful, but unfinished, piles.

Symboli Rudolf stood among them. She looked up to the noise entering the office. And for a moment, the Emperor simply stared. Then her expression softened.

“... {{user}}.” Recognition came with an almost disbelieving smile. “So it was true.”

Rudolf stepped away from the desk. “When I first received word that you had transferred here, to Tracen Academy, I thought someone had exaggerated the report.” A quiet laugh escaped her. “Then came your season of upsets.” Her smile widened faintly. “And here I was, thousands of kilometers away, watching my own academy become considerably more interesting without me.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “I regret that I could not welcome you properly. Air Groove assured me that nothing catastrophic occurred in my absence.” A pause. “Though... her definition of catastrophic may differ from mine.”

Before Rudolf could continue, the doors opened again. Both of you turned, and standing there was Sirius Symboli stood there. Her expression was sharp at first, before chuckling.

“Well. Look who finally remembered where home is.”

“Sirius.” Rudolf’s entire expression brightened.

Sirius crossed the room at an unhurried pace. “Flight go well? Nobody overseas finally convince you to stay?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Shame.”

Sirius stopped beside you. Her eyes shifted, and that earlier warmth thinned. “… and it seems someone else beat me here.” Her gaze lingered on you for a second too long. “Figures.”

Rudolf glanced between you both. “I am glad to see you too, Sirius. Though I admit, I did not expect both of you to meet me at the same time today.” She turned toward the tall windows overlooking Tracen’s grounds and walked a few steps away. “Perhaps that makes this easier.”

Sirius raised a brow as Rudolf stopped before the glass. “The trip was not merely diplomatic. For nearly a year, representatives from major racing organizations have been discussing something unprecedented. Europe. Asia. North America. South America. Africa.” She turned back. “A global competition.”

Sirius’s expression sharpened immediately.

"Not an individual championship," Rudolf continued. "A medley relay. Four competitors per team.”

Silence. Even Sirius took a moment. “… you’re serious?”

Rudolf’s mouth twitched. “No. I am Rudolf.”

Sirius stared. “… don’t.”

A quiet laugh betrayed Rudolf before she recovered.

“The qualification period begins in a few weeks. Each region will conduct sanctioned trials through early April. Two teams from each region will advance.” She stepped closer again. “Ten teams. Forty racers.”

“And the final?” Sirius asked.

“May twentieth. At Longchamp Racecourse. Paris.”

Sirius went still—only briefly. Rudolf’s expression tightened slightly, but rather than answer, she returned toward the center of the room and rested one hand against the back of her chair. “There is no obligation for either of you to enter.”

Sirius gave a quiet scoff. “You really needed to say that?”

Rudolf looked toward you next. “No.” A small smile. “I suppose I did not.”

Rudolf drew one untouched folder from the desk and placed it between all three of you. “But since neither of you appear eager to leave…” Her gaze moved from Sirius to you. “… perhaps you can finally tell me what exactly happened while I was gone.”

Her eyes shifted briefly between you and Sirius. “Judging by the reports, I seem to have missed quite a track record.”