James didn''t bother answering Curtis''s question. Instead, he casually tossed one of the racing car keys to Mirabe.


    Mirabe caught the keys and twirled them on her finger. Hearing Curtis''sment, she nced over at James and asked, "Is there anyone else?"


    "Nope," James replied with a cool indifference.


    "Alright then." Mirabe nodded, not probing any further. She pressed the unlock button on the key fob, and the headlights of a sleek red sports car shed in the distance.


    With a raised eyebrow, Mirabe sauntered over to the car. She walked around it, taking in its curves, and gave a little whistle of appreciation. Then, she opened the door and slid into the driver''s seat.


    As she turned the ignition, the car''s engine roared to life, shattering the quiet of the racetrack with its powerful growl.


    Not far off, Curtis stood frozen, staring at Mirabe, utterly perplexed.


    Wait, Ms. Mirabe...? Curtis''s thoughts were slow to catch up. After a moment, his eyes widened in realization. Could the mysterious female racer from the other night have been Ms. Mirabe all along?


    Scratching his head, Curtis tried to piece together the events of that night. He''d interacted with the female racer for less than a minute while handing over a check. Although he''d sensed a vague familiarity about her, a call from James had interrupted his thoughts, and he''d let it slide.


    Now, as he thought back, the racer''s figure started to ovep with Mirabe''s.


    Curtis felt like the world had taken on a surreal twist.


    He recalled asking Mirabe to help recover some surveince footage the other day. Her brief moment of hesitation now made sense-she''d imed it couldn''t be restored and even mentioned calling in the top hacker Y to cover the tracks.


    Ms. Mirabe being asked to fix the footage she herself erased... The irony made Curtis''s cheeks twitch.


    Meanwhile, Mirabe was examining the car''s specs when James approached, holding a racing helmet. He tapped on the window, and she looked up.


    James leaned casually against the car door, handing her the helmet. "Remember anything yet?" he asked with a teasing tone.


    Mirabe didn''t rush to put on the helmet. Instead, she tilted her head slightly at his question. “How about a hint?" she suggested yfully.


    James gave her a sidelong nce, then slightly tilted his chin toward the neighboring sports car, his eyes resting on it without uttering a word.


    Following his gaze, Mirabe noticed the adjacent car was even more striking. Its sleek body and matte ck finish,bined with an eagle-in-flight emblem on the door, exuded a subtle yet mysterious allure.


    Seeing the familiar emblem, Mirabe''s lips twitched. Wasn''t that the mark of the previous champion, Eagle? The poor guy who''d crossed paths with her just before the championship and ended up missing his opportunity?


    Ah, memories always had a way of feeling magical. Mirabe quietly shifted her gaze away.


    No wonder he acted like she''d done him wrong and never owned up to it.


    "Looks like you''ve remembered," James chuckled lightly, his voice carrying a teasing chill.


    Feeling a bit sheepish, Mirabe lowered her gaze. After a moment''s thought, she slipped on the helmet, blocking his view and finally feeling a little more secure. "What are you talking about? I don''t know what you mean," she mumbled.


    James just stood there, speechless, shaking his head at her audacity.