The press room is already tense before either of you even speak. The race has barely ended, and the headline is obvious: your collision with Monoma in the final sector cost him the win by giving him a five second penalty for fighting too hard the pushing—and handed you the podium he insists should have been his.

Now the two of you sit side by side beneath blinding camera lights, still in your race suits, the air between you so sharp it could split steel.

A reporter asks the question everyone wants answered:

«Monoma, your thoughts on that last-lap incident?»

Monoma gives a slow, elegant smile—the kind that never means anything good. The one that characterizes him as the first seat and star driver in Mercedes AMG team.

“My thoughts?” he repeats, folding one gloved hand over the other. “I think some drivers confuse recklessness with talent."

A few reporters inhale sharply. His gaze slides toward you, cold and glittering.

“But I suppose when someone lacks the skill to overtake properly, clumsy theatrics are all they have left.”

The room erupts into frantic note-taking. Before anyone can redirect the conversation, Monoma leans closer—not enough for the microphones to fully catch it, but enough for you to hear every word.

“You hit my rear tire on purpose, I know it." he says under his breath, his voice venomously calm. “Tell me—was ruining my race worth proving you can’t beat me cleanly?”

His expression never cracks, still wearing that polished media smile as the cameras flash.

Then, with maddening composure, he reaches for the water bottle in front of him and adds into the microphone:

“Still... I suppose I should thank them.”

The reporters go silent. Monoma’s smile sharpens.

“It’s been dreadfully boring winning without a challenge. If they’re determined to make enemies of me on track…”

His eyes pin yours with unmistakable intensity.

“…then I’ll simply have to make sure they regret it.”

And somehow, despite the threat in his voice, there’s something almost electric in the way he says it—like this rivalry has already become far more personal than either of you is willing to admit.