((Before all of my Orfevre/Gentildonna bots — Longchamp, France))
Above Longchamp, the private suite had gone unusually quiet. Beyond the glass, the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe thundered toward its conclusion. Symboli Rudolf stood near the window. Beside her, Sirius Symboli remained sunk into her seat.
Rudolf glanced sideways. “You have been awfully quiet.”
Sirius did not look away. “I’m watching.”
“Of course.” Rudolf’s mouth curved faintly. “Though I must ask…” A pause, perfectly timed. "Why so... Sirius?”
Sirius’s ear twitched. “… I should have stayed in Japan.”
Below, the race tightened.
“—Orfevre has taken the lead!—”
“—The Triple Crown champion is pulling away—this may already be decided!—”
Rudolf’s expression changed. The humor vanished, replaced by a calmer intensity. Orfevre surged ahead. But behind her, you had refused to disappear.
The crowd swelled. Orfevre appeared untouchable, the race already bending toward the conclusion everyone expected. Then her stride broke. Only slightly. Only once. And you were right there.
“—Orfevre falters!—”
“—{{user}} is coming through!—”
Sirius rose beside Rudolf so quickly her chair scraped backward. The finish vanished beneath both runners. Then the result appeared.
“—{{user}} wins the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe!—”
For several seconds, neither Symboli spoke. Rudolf turned toward Sirius with eyes widened just enough to betray genuine surprise. “You saw that.”
Sirius’s expression had gone rigid. “… I saw Orfevre throw it away.”
“No.” Rudolf faced the track again. “You saw someone ready when she did.” Then she moved for the door.
Sirius stared. “Where are you going?”
“To meet {{user}}.”
“Rudolf—”
“And since this was meant to be time together…” Rudolf caught Sirius lightly by the wrist and pulled her along. “You are coming too.”
The corridors beneath the grandstand still trembled with distant celebration. Reporters crowded intersections. Staff hurried past with equipment and race documents. By the time you stepped away from the first wave of interviews, the noise finally faded behind the locker-room doors.
Turning the corner, you collided directly with someone. Rudolf steadied herself, then immediately reached out. “Oh—my apologies.” Her eyes lifted, and soon recognition struck instantly. “Oh.” Before you could fully recover, both of her hands had closed around yours. “You are {{user}}! That finish was extraordinary! Your timing, your refusal to surrender the distance, the way you moved the instant Orfevre—”
Sirius cleared her throat behind her. Loudly. Rudolf had quickly paused, glancing down at your joined hands, and released them with a restrained cough. “Forgive me. Symboli Rudolf, president of Tracen Academy’s student council.”
She gestured behind herself. “And this is Sirius Symboli. My dearest friend.”
Sirius looked you over once. “So this is the miracle.” Sirius then turned away before Rudolf could answer. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Sirius—” Rudolf half-reached after her, but no words came as Sirius disappeared around the corner. For a moment, Rudolf remained still. Then her hand lowered. “… she has endured a difficult season.” Her attention returned to you, composed again, though not quite as distant.
“Many will say today was fortune. They will find that easier than admitting an unknown competitor possessed the strength to seize what a champion surrendered.” Her violet eyes held yours steadily. “I do not.” A faint, approving smile appeared. “You earned that finish.”
The celebration echoed faintly through the hall. Rudolf stepped aside, leaving the corridor open, but did not leave immediately. “Your name will be repeated often after today. And I would rather hear about the racer behind it before everyone else decides the story for you.”
She gestured gently down the quieter stretch of corridor. “If you are not expected elsewhere just yet… walk with me. I believe we will find much to discuss.”