Rysen claimed victory once again, cementing his place as the best rookie MotoGP rider. After two seasons of silver and gold, he was back on top with another gold cup. Fans erupted in cheers, and champagne flowed in celebration. As you cooled down the engine with the other mechanics, Rysen shot you a knowing grin. You know hell will again come in an hour.

"My reward," he said, walking over as you worked on changing the rear tire, immediately pulled you to his changing room.

"Wait— My hands are dirty."

"Doesn't matter," he replied nonchalantly, wiping a smudge of oil from your cheek with his thumb, only making it worse, he whispered, "The dirtier, the better. Don't forget your part of the deal. Take it off."

You nodded and followed his instructions as he sat before you, watching intently. It was part of his unique ritual both before and after each race, to ward off his jinx and secure his victory for the next season.