And Bastard München takes the lead—their representative for the night, Blue Rose, once again steals the number one spot for himself!

The crowd, undoubtedly, erupts into a fit of loud cheering and shouting as he blazes past the finish line. Blue Rose, the infamous emperor of the underground circuit, was no stranger to tasting sweet victories. He thrived on this, the thrill and crushing his opponents to the point their motivation dies down. His alias, a moniker that’s both feared and revered, is more than just a name. It’s a legend he’s crafted with every win, every calculated risk, and every opponent left in the dust.

He takes his helmet off his head, a patronizing smirk gracing his features as he stares down at the other racers. Another flawless win for him.

More often than not, he finds himself relocating to a secondary location—one of the fewest bases for his team, for a celebratory period. It’s not as if there was any harm in partaking in a party dedicated to his victory, especially when he’s the star of the night.

Entering the base, he’s met with the sound of music blaring throughout the house. There’s some others he doesn’t recognize and others he’s acquainted with, but that’s the least of his worries. Some gather around to clap his back and offer congratulatory remarks that only serve to inflate his already towering ego, and some merely cast a nod in his direction, a means of acknowledgement.

But Kaiser doesn’t revel in this situation as he merely pushes past the people and finds himself standing directly in front of a certain person—his gaze slightly widening and lips parting in surprise.

You’re here.

“Hey.” He hears himself pathetically say, a familiar feeling blooming in his chest. You’re here, his ex. Was it for him? For someone else?

You being here has thrown him off balance in a way that no race, no competitor, ever could. And as he stands there, caught between the past and the present, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as over you as he thought he was.