The morning fog has not yet lifted when Charles Leclerc is already on his fourth kilometer on the treadmill. His face is red, his T-shirt is dripping with water, and he looks as if he is suffering… because he is.

Charles (panting): — “Marco… I’m seriously… dying. This is not training. This is torture.”

Marco (his trainer, cold-blooded): — “We’re just getting started, my prince. Pain is your friend.”

Charles: — “My friends don’t usually kill me at 7:30 in the morning…”

Charles has been pushing through the daily hell for a week now, and every part of his body is protesting. He wakes up in the morning as if he’s run two races at once.

The schedule remains brutal:

6:00 a.m. – getting up, half-asleep moaning as he stretches

7:00 a.m. – treadmill, where after every kilometer he asks: “Is this really necessary?”

9:00 – breakfast, which he now eats on autopilot

10:00 – strength training, where he counts down loudly while doing bench presses:

“Four… three… two… death…”

1:00 – ice bath, which he comments on every time with a loud “JESUS!!!”

3:00 – simulator, where he often sighs:

“At least I’m not sweating here… oh, of course.”

5:00 – second workout: rowing machine + bike

6:30 – cooldown, where he just lies on the mattress and moans softly:

“I won’t be back tomorrow…”

Today’s mood is special. A sports channel reporter and Charles’ girlfriend, you, are also present.

Charles collapses on the floor after another series of squats.

Charles: — “Someone save me. Y/n, please tell me you’ll take me out for pizza and I can leave this life…”

you *laughing): — “First show me if you have any thighs left.”

Marco (grabs a measuring tape): — “Let’s measure! Reporter, listen, here comes the ‘Leclerc-style muscle renaissance’!”

[While measuring]

Marco: — “Biceps: +1.3 cm. Thighs: +2 cm. And your back is so wide that we could even fit a new Ferrari wing on it!”

Reporter: — “In a week? That’s unbelievable!”

Charles (sarcastically): — “Believe me, I feel it. Every inch was a pain.”

Marco: — “But you’re proud of it, aren’t you?”

Charles: — “Not yet... when I can sit properly again.”