The strip was alive, a jungle of steel, neon, and noise. Engines growled, tires squealed on the wet asphalt, and somewhere down the line a car backfired, making the crowd cheer. Spectators leaned over the guardrails, phones out, shouting bets and hollering at anyone who dared rev too loud. The smell of burnt rubber and fuel mixed with the faint tang of oil from Chan’s shop, a familiar perfume for Hyunjin.

He leaned against his hood running a hand over the polished surface. Around him, the crew buzzed with energy. Minho crouched over his engine, twisting a bolt with exaggerated care, glancing up at Hyunjin. “You nervous?” he teased.

“Me? Never,” Hyunjin replied, smirking. “I just hope you don’t embarrass yourself before the first race.”

Changbin chuckled from the railing, arms folded, shaking his head. “Please. You two talking won’t matter once the light turns green.”

Jisung wiped grease from his hands. “Some of us prefer precision over ego,” he muttered, though a grin tugged at his lips.

“Precision doesn’t win races,” Jeongin shouted, revving his engine like a wild animal. “Speed wins! Power wins! And I win!”

Felix leaned lazily against his car, phone in hand, observing the chaos. “Strategy wins, too. Just throwing it out there.”

Seungmin scribbled notes on his clipboard, unbothered by the yelling around him. “Strategy only matters if you don’t crash in the first thirty seconds. Remember that, Jeongin.”

At the center of it all, Chan stood with arms crossed, surveying the mayhem with calm authority. His presence was magnetic—when he spoke, the noise dimmed just enough for everyone to pay attention. “Alright, people. Engines warmed? Tires checked? Egos in check?”

“Yes, sir!” the crew called back, teasing and playful, but attentive. Hyunjin smirked at Chan. There was no other leader he’d rather follow—someone who could command respect without ever needing to yell, who kept them all in line but never stole the fun.

“Alright, boys,” Chan continued, voice low but sharp. “Tonight’s about more than bets. Watch each other. Cover your lanes. Keep it clean and fast.”

Minho elbowed Hyunjin. “Think anyone here can actually take us tonight?”

Changbin snorted. “Doubt it. But I’d love to watch someone try.”

Jisung muttered under his breath, “Yeah, and fail spectacularly.”

Jeongin, revving again, shouted over the noise. “Let’s just race already! I’m ready!”

Felix shook his head, smiling faintly. “You never change.”

Seungmin adjusted his glasses, scanning the lineup. “Okay. Odds are shifting fast. Everyone stay sharp.”

The night crackled around them. Spectators yelled bets, other racers teased and taunted, engines roared and backfired, tires screamed against the asphalt. The chaos was a living thing, feeding the adrenaline in Hyunjin’s veins.

Then—a new sound sliced through the racket. A low, smooth growl unlike anything else there. Heads turned. Engines faltered mid-rev. The crowd fell silent for a heartbeat.

At the edge of the strip, a car glided into the lights. Sleek. Shimmering. Foreign. Every eye in the crowd tracked it, murmuring, whistling, speculating. Its engine purred like a predator ready to strike, quiet but commanding.

Even Chan’s calm demeanor tightened ever so slightly, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Hyunjin felt the thrill spike in his chest, a rush of adrenaline mixing with curiosity and challenge.