Juniper nced at Kurt''s car. It was a mboyant, gaudy red, decorated like some kind of butterfly. It was hideously ugly!


    "Juniper, look! That''s Melvin''s car!" Kurt eximed.


    Following his gaze, Juniper saw a modified, matte blue race car parked in the number onene. The door opened, and a tall, well-built man in a racing suit stepped out. His back... it looked so familiar, like she had seen it somewhere before. Juniper narrowed her eyes, a strange tightness gripping her heart.


    "That''s Melvin Steele," Kurt exined. "The champion of thest two F1petitions. They say in the industry that the only one who can match him is himself... and J." He sighed. "Ugh, it''s bad luck to even mention J.”


    Whenever J came up, Kurt got depressed. If J had just agreed to race, would he be training like a dog right now?


    "Shut up," Juniper snapped, her tone cold. "Get in the car."


    "Right away." Kurt immediately fell silent and obediently climbed into the driver''s seat.


    "Do ap. I want to see what your problem is."


    As Juniper fastened her seatbelt, she nced outside and happened to make eye contact with Melvin, who was inspecting his vehicle. Both were wearing helmets, their features obscured, but even through the windshield, Juniper could feel his hostility. He was looking at her with disdain.


    She red right back. As she tried to ce where she knew him from, the car shot forward with a roar.


    "Melvin, what is it?" his assistant asked, noticing him staring off into space.


    "Is the driver inne ten from the Orient Country region?" Melvin asked in a low voice, his eyes fixed on the red car.


    "Yes," the assistant confirmed.


    "His skill level iscking.” Melvin identified the problem at a nce, his voicezy. "No technique, and hes hitting on girls during practice time? The racing scene in Orient Country is hopeless."


    He paused. "By the way, any news on J?"


    Melvin walked to the lounge area and took off his helmet, revealing a handsome, youthful face. He had deep, narrow eyes, thick brows, and a high-bridged nose-an air of undeniable charisma.


    "None." The assistant took the helmet, answering respectfully.


    J was Melvin''s idol. For three years, J''s racing had inspired him to train relentlessly, just for the chance topete against J on the same track. But then, without warning, J had announced the retirement. Three years had passed without single trace of The Orient Country region wouldn''t even have qualified for this year''s F1petition under normal circumstances. Melvin had pulled a lot of strings to make it happen, all in an attempt to lure J out of hiding.


    No news? Melvin sat on the sofa, sipping a cold soda, his eyes dangerously deep. J would never sit back and let Orient Country region''s racing legacy die. What had gone wrong?


    "And..." Melvin set down his drink, his expression turning serious as he smoothed his hair. "Is there any word on my family?"


    Melvin had known since he was a child that he wasn''t a Steele by birth. He had parents, brothers, sisters, but he had been separated from them in an ident when he was young. He had been searching for them for years, but the clues were so scarce the often wondered if his memories were just a figment of his imagination. Perhaps... perhaps his family was long gone.