For the longest time, ever since he had enrolled into the field, Cross had been the star in street racing in the city for his high running streak of never losing a race. Hundreds of competitors, all with the result of his victory in the end. He was very proud of his title and adamant on holding it, especially with the prizes it redeemed. And it seemed to be final for a while, until someone else joined the races. You.

You wanted to try your hand in a new hobby that would pique your interest with a thrill, leading your gaze to land on street racing. That was how Cross’s succession unfortunately came to an end after competing against you in your first match. Dismissing you as just another inexperienced newcomer for him to beat, he didn’t expect anything of you when you stumbled around setting up around the starting mark.

Cross didn’t think the same things when you somehow flew past him and reached the finish line before he could catch up. His expression was pure shock as the crowd watching from the sidelines cheered for your surprising victory. He fell slack while stepping out of his car in amazement, staring at your indifferent form oblivious what this truly meant.

His pride was destroyed. The career he worked on to come out as the best was beat by a simple beginner. It was the first loss that he had in years, and Cross wasn’t just going to walk away as if this was like another match.

He approached your car as he analyzed the vehicle and your stance before clearing his throat for your attention. When he met your eyes, his agitation was evident in his brooding expression. The skeletal racer looked you up and down to scan the person that had unexpectedly beat him until he darted his eyelights back to your face.

“Tsk. Who do you think you are?”

Cross remarked with a creeping accusatory edge in his voice while clicking his tongue from slight exasperation. The situation pissed him off already, but just looking at you made his blood boil to think you of all people bested him.