The day after the dinner party was scheduled for their flight to Australia, and Luca got to his feet as soon as his System rang for the day. He quickly began his Daily Routine and headed straight to the facility's gym. When finished, he sneaked in a can of Fijee before even having breakfast. Luckily, his System tolerated the indulgence and spared him from any punishment.
Greeting the staff of Trampos Racing, who were busy preparing for the afternoon flight, Luca could sense their collective satisfaction with him—everyone except for Haas and the American. Both seemed bitter, likely because he had snatched away yet another seasonal chance for them to secure a top division spot in motorsport. This animosity didn't bother Luca.
Though he had made some attempts to smooth things over, he figured as long as they weren't his teammates while on the track, there wasn't much point in forcing a good relationship.
After a refreshing cold morning bath, Luca treated himself to breakfast: mashed sweet potatoes topped with flaked grilled salmon, drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkle of chili flakes for that extra kick and flavor.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the soft German morning sunlight filtering through the clear windows and pooling across his bedspread. Checking his phone, Luca responded to messages and frowned at several missed calls from his mother and sister. With a sigh, he swiped away the notifications—he knew this would happen the moment his sister got her hands on a phone.
Moving on, Luca reviewed more pressing messages. Mallow confirmed that he would be flying to Melbourne with Sara tagging along. As part of his team, it was their job to shadow him across the globe. The next message was from Harry, who seemed fond of sending random videos from these new platforms that spanned worldwide social interaction.
As always, the clips were incomprehensible to Luca, and he found none funny or even relatable. With an exasperated sigh, he skimmed through the rest of the messages about flight arrangements and seat assignments on Trampos Racing's private jet. Satisfied with the orderliness, Luca powered off his phone and got dressed.
He pulled on a sleek tracksuit in the colors of Trampos Racing, grabbed his little MP3 player, and clipped the compact device to the zipper of his jacket. Opting for his usual vibe, he slipped in his earpieces, gathered his belongings, and dashed out into the bright morning sun.
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The plane took off around 11 a.m. once everyone was nestled inside. Ansel arrived in his car, driven by his fiancée, and gave her a wave goodbye before boarding. As they settled into their seats, Ansel leaned toward Luca and asked why he hadn't bought a home yet and was still living at headquarters.
Luca shrugged off the question, seeing no reason to tie himself down with a property that would endlessly drain his account. Living at the headquarters, which came at no personal cost, made far more sense to him.
The journey to Melbourne required three connecting flights. The first leg took them from Berlin to Frankfurt, followed by Frankfurt to Dubai, and finally, from Dubai to their destination in the wonderful country of Oz. The entire trip spanned 21 exhausting hours, with a few minor delays stretching the total travel time to 22 hours.
By the time they reached Melbourne, Luca swore he could no longer feel his legs.
They touched down in Melbourne just past mid-morning. The airport buzzed with life, full of travelers coming and going, but fatigue was etched into the faces of Luca and the others. They moved quickly through customs, retrieving their luggage and weaving through the crowd toward the exit.
Waiting outside was a reserved shuttle, ready to take them directly to their accommodation. They piled in without hesitation, grateful for the smooth transition. As the shuttle rolled through the city, the streets blurred past in a kaleidoscope of bustling pedestrians, cars, and shops.
The warm Australian sun cast long shadows across the urban landscape, palm trees swaying gently beneath the open sky.
Luca wished he had an ultra camera with him.
As they left the busy core of the city behind, the scene grew quieter, giving way to the relaxed rhythm of the suburbs. Within the hour, the shuttle pulled into a modern training facility set aside by the Federation for their use. From the outside, it bore a striking resemblance to Grey-Husson's headquarters, though it was notably smaller and featured more muted, dimmed colors.
The shuttle made a smooth circle around the complex, passing a few officials already moving about, their steps brisk and purposeful. Eventually, it came to a stop in front of a sleek white building that stood out as the centerpiece of the facility.
And just like that, Luca thought.
The team sighed collectively and disembarked.
"We have four days till race day," Mr. Grant grunted in his usual gloomy tone. He addressed the four drivers—Luca, Ansel, Haas, and the younger American, Victor—without even glancing at them. As he exchanged handshakes with the officials at the training facility, he motioned for the boys to do the same. "Don't think today's off. We get in our cars by noon.
Luca groaned inwardly. He had spent almost a full day in the air and would've killed for a few more hours of sleep to make up for it. But instead of voicing his frustration, he quietly followed Mr. Moritz and the others into the quarters assigned to them.
After dropping off his belongings, Luca took a late breakfast, feeling grateful that his System hadn't punished him for missing the previous day's Daily Quest or falling short on today's Daily Routine. The long flight had completely thrown everything off track, and his System seemed to understand, sparing him any penalties.
Australian Grand Prix
Location: Melbourne, Australia
Track: George Park Circuit
Luca scrolled through the race details displayed on his phone before sending a quick message to Mallow and Sara to let them know he had arrived safely in Australia. Afterward, he powered off his phone and got ready.
In the locker room, Luca and Ansel suited up in their training racing gear—a sleek black-and-red ensemble, the alternating colors of their official race suits.
Just a few minutes past noon, the two young men slipped on their helmets and gloves, fastening the straps securely. With the sun casting an orange glow across the distant horizon, they made their way out to the track.
Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz stood waiting for them alongside the pit crew staff and engineers.
Every point mattered this season, and Trampos Racing was determined to leave last year's disappointments behind. With a veteran from F2 and a rising star who had already claimed a podium finish in his debut, this was their moment to shine and win their very first championship.