The following day, Luca began his driving school lessons, with the day's activity being an introduction to vehicle controls and basic road safety.
He familiarized himself with the steering wheel, pedals, gear shifts, and mirrors before practicing smooth acceleration, braking, and turning in a controlled environment.
As he drove to instruction, he noticed different similarities and differences between a normal car and an F1 car. The major similarity was that they both required focus, it was just a matter of how much.
The sensation of being in a normal car was more comfortable, muted, and milder than the hot cockpit of a single-seater. The pedals were far less aggressive, and the steering was vastly lighter and less precise.
At the end of it all, Luca was able to finish the activity without any major issues.
While it wasn't the high-speed precision he was used to, he adapted quickly, maintaining smooth control and executing the required maneuvers with ease.
The instructor, having observed his performance, gave him a grading of 8.5 out of 10, commending his natural confidence and sharp awareness behind the wheel for a first-timer.
It was a solid start, and he was ready for the next lesson with another bulletin.
Luca returned to his hotel room to prepare for his early flight to Berlin the next day.
Finally, Mr. Schafer had invited him to a meeting to discuss the ongoing "predicament," as he described it. A Zoom call was out of the question, and Luca was required to be present at Trampos HQ by noon the next day.
After a peaceful day completing his Daily Quest at 2 PM, night fell, followed by an uninterrupted sleep until Luca woke up on time for his Daily Routine.
After a successful workout session, Luca took a shower, ate breakfast as quickly as possible, and dressed in a neat, casual outfit. He grabbed his duffel bag along with his stealth accessories—nose mask and cap.
No Sara, no Mallow. He would be in Berlin for just a day or two before returning to London. He still had driving lessons waiting for him and a family to be with as Christmas approached.
The plane departed at 7:30 AM, and much to Luca's surprise, he slept through most of the flight until the announcement for landing at Berlin Brandenburg Airport at 9:30 AM.
This was starting to feel like a routine for him. The process of landing at the same airport, walking across the tarmac into the terminal, passing through immigration, retrieving his luggage, and heading outside to catch a ride to Dahlem.
Luca leaned against the window of the cab as it rolled through the streets of Berlin. A woman and her crying child shared the ride with him, but their presence barely registered in his mind.
His gaze was fixed on the familiar cityscape, taking in how the capital still held onto its celebrations.
Germany was still reveling in the championship victory of its only Formula team. From the way the banners displayed and illustrated it, one would think Luca was a Messiah who had risen from the flames to lead them to glory.
By now, it was public knowledge that Luca intended to leave Trampos, there was no hiding it. He was certain that everyone knew.
So why were there still fresh posters with his face plastered across the city, as if he were a permanent fixture?
Was this their way of trying to make him stay?
Luca remembered the very advice he had given Isabella—always make decisions that benefit you, not just to satisfy a nostalgic urge.
He knew that leaving Trampos would be emotionally difficult. The connection, the memories, the triumphs, it all ran deep even though it was all in one year.
But physically? All he had to do was force his fingers to sign a contract, and just like that, he'd be racing in an F1 chassis next season.
Luca stepped out of the cab as it pulled up in front of his gate. After paying the driver, he took a deep breath, letting the crisp air of his neighborhood settle in.
His gaze shifted to the usual spot where the daily newspaper was dropped, and sure enough, there it was, neatly folded and untouched.
Picking it up, he tucked it under his arm and unlocked the gate. With a gentle push, the gate rumbled open, revealing his big, lonely house worth millions.
Luca stood there for a moment.
He remembered when he was about to leave for his abrupt flight to Italy for the finale, he made a mental note to gauge how fast his house would show signs of neglect in his absence.
Now, as his eyes swept over the property, he could see the results. And the remark was:I definitely need cleaners while I'm away.
The lawn grass had grown slightly but visibly and unevenly taller, making it not really appealing to the eyes than before.
And that was where grass could be seen, because the scattered leaves had multiplied, blanketing the premises. Luca estimated one hour of raking for that.
And lastly, a faint layer of dust had clung to the front windows, where the wind normally brushed past.
Luca closed the gate behind him and walked to the front door, the leaves squelching beneath his sneakers.
He got in and settled faster than a panda, then moved to the kitchen to prepare something before heading to the HQ by 12.
While the pot simmered, Luca made his way to the spacious living room, sinking into a chair as he grabbed the day's newspaper.
He had always loved Berlin's papers and wanted to catch up on what he had missed, checking if there were any noteworthy updates.
Luca knew he had likely been one of the most talked-about people in Germany for the past month, with celebrations still ongoing. But he definitely didn't expect to see an article about himself right there in print!
This wasn't random. It meant he had probably been featured in the papers week after week.
"LUCA RENNICK'S ALMOST CERTAIN F1 FUTURE!"
"OUTBACK PERFORMANCE ON THE VERGE OF SEALING THE DEAL!"
"LUCA RENNICK DOMINATES THE GALA! THREE AWARDS TO HIS NAME"
"WHY RENNICK MIGHT BE LEAVING TRAMPOS! ABUSE OR GREED?"
Luca shook his head in pity for himself as he read. One headline, in particular, caught his eye.
"WHO IS GERMANY'S CHAMPION? WHO IS LUCA RENNICK?"
Luca was stunned by what he saw. It was practically a biography about him, and whoever wrote it had to be a relative, because they were damn accurate!
"…19 years old, born on the 15th of September, in San Casciano in Val di Pesa, Italy…"
"…resided in London, studied at Westborough High, London. No college degree…"
If Luca was honest, he had never found anything as captivating as this in his life.
He briefly glanced at the kitchen before shifting his focus back to the paper, crossing his legs to get the full gist.