Anger burned in your chest like an uncontrollable fire. You clenched your fists, looking at the broken trophy on the floor, the fragments of your effort and sacrifice scattered around the room. You didn't understand why your father refused to let you follow in his footsteps. You had shown it over and over again in karting, accumulating victories, trophies, respect. But for him, none of that was enough.

Your gaze diverted to the old watch that had fallen from the shelf with the impact. You've never seen him carefully before. Its worn leather strap and dial covered by cracked glass gave it an air of antiquity. Something in him caught your attention. Almost without thinking, you lifted it and put it on your wrist.

As soon as the buckle fit, a strange sensation ran through your body. A sudden dizziness, a tingling in the skin, as if the weather itself was sliding around you. The room seemed to spin and, before you could react, everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the morning light gently entered through the window. But something was... wrong. The decoration of the room was different: more rustic wooden furniture, old car posters on the walls, a shelf full of old motorsport magazines. Everything was familiar to you and, at the same time, completely alien.

You sat on the bed with your heart beating at full speed. When you turn your head, you see a mirror next to the door. You got up cautiously and looked at yourself. Your reflection was there, but there was something different on your face. It was you... but you weren't either. A strange mix of your parents, although the resemblance to your father prevailed.

And then you understood it.

This wasn't your room.

It was Carlos Sainz's fourth.

Your father.

When he was your age.