[Host should begin Daily Routine]
Luca woke up feeling well-rested after a solid seven-hour sleep, stretching in his pajamas as the morning birds chirped and sang from their nests in the trees around his compound.
It was one of these mornings that were dull yet bright at the same time.
October was gradually coming to an end, and soon, November would usher in a new climate season—the final stretch of the motorsport season.
Still under Advanced Bundle, Luca knew exactly what came next after waking up. He swung his legs out of bed and stood up, giving his body another quick stretch before heading toward the bathroom.
The bright, clean tiles reflected the early morning light as he reached for his toothbrush, scrubbing away the taste of sleep. He splashed cold water on his face, letting the chill jolt him fully awake.
Afterward, he walked back across the room toward his closet and changed into cargo shorts and a snug gym top. As he left his room, he switched on the lights in essential spots like the hallway before heading downstairs.
Luca briefly wondered what would happen if he ever got robbed. His neighborhood had tight security, but that didn't mean someone from the inside couldn't attempt something.
Standing in the center of the living room, he noted just how big the house was—so big that he wouldn't even know if something was happening upstairs or in the backyard.
Maybe a security dog? They didn't require as much maintenance or attention as a regular pet dog, right?
Yet again, Luca decided to test himself and see how long he could last before truly needing all these extra layers of assistance.
Stepping outside, he strode across the lawn, which was in desperate need of raking, and made his way to the gate. Briefly rolling it open, he grabbed his daily newspaper before heading back inside.
He placed the newspaper on the couch and went upstairs again, this time toward the gym. Today, he'd be working out alone—no Amir to help him.
Luca considered launching a session from his system but felt impatient. He wanted to wrap up his gym time quickly and start raking the yard.
For some reason, the thought of raking had lingered in his mind all evening and even into his sleep. Not that he was particularly excited about the labor itself, but rather, he was curious about the experience that came with it.
He believed that raking wasn't just about clearing leaves, that it was almost like a ritual, a process that allowed thoughts to drift and the mind to breathe.
Though he had never raked before, he imagined there was something meditative about it, especially the repeated strokes and the way the leaves gathered into neat piles.
Luca grabbed a water bottle and took a few gulps, then walked over to the gym windows. The morning sun was streaming through, bathing the room in a soft golden light.
The birds were still chirping, fluttering around and singing, while the trees swayed gently. Luca hoped they'd keep it up until he was done in the gym.
When he started raking, he wanted the rhythm of his movements to align with the natural sounds around him.
After drinking, he waited a moment before launching into his usual daily exercises—pushing his muscles, flexing his bones, and keeping his heart racing.
From power burpees to split squats, followed by full yoga and deep stretches, Luca's mind was just as active as his body.
As he worked through his routine, he kept thinking about the doping accusations. If things weren't handled properly, they could cause serious problems for him.
Before Sara left, he asked her to buy him some detox supplements—just in case. Mr. Ammermann had ordered it.
Luca knew he hadn't doped, but accusations could spiral out of control fast. Even though his system had confirmed he was clean, paranoia crept in. What if some unknown factor—contaminated supplements, tainted food, or something entirely unexpected—triggered a false positive? It wasn't unheard of in sports.
Detox supplements are like masking agents used to flush out anything from the system. Some might use activated charcoal, known for absorbing toxins, while others could take excessive amounts of vitamin C or niacin, which were rumored to accelerate metabolism and cleanse the bloodstream.
Luca would take the supplements in a measured amount—just enough that they wouldn't be detected during a scan, while also working to eliminate any substance he might have unknowingly ingested.
He sighed, sitting on a bench as he wrapped up his exercises. He dried his face with a towel, but his mind kept racing.
Tomorrow, he'd report to headquarters for a meeting with the designated FIA officials handling the matter, along with his own team management. After that, he'd head to the clinics for Trampos' own test.
This suspicion relied mostly on the fact about him moving at the top speed of a SomberCore without making mistakes, falling victim to a spinout or stopping out of exhaustion.
In better words, Sync Buff.
If he tested negative and was cleared of doping, would he still keep using Sync Buff and let the suspicion linger?
Luca wouldn't have cared, because there was no way anyone could ever suspect he had a system, let alone trace the exact source of this buff.
So, it would just be doping accusation after doping accusation.
And in the worst-case scenario, they'd start throwing enhancement accusations at Trampos, claiming the team had modified their Dallaras beyond F2 regulation.
Even then, Luca would have brushed it off. It wouldn't affect his driving, and they would never—never—be able to find him guilty of anything.
But when he considered the bigger picture—the societal fallout, the damage to his name, and most of all, the temporary suspension from competition—he knew he needed a way out.
If he couldn't clear his name before the Italian Mega Prix, then he, Trampos, the entire Germany and its fans would be screwed.
Should he really keep using Sync Buff?