CHAPTER 584: THE RISING SUNS

The Hungarian Grand Prix was on the horizon, and that expectant atmosphere for a new racing week had returned.

Despite all that had happened in the past weeks surrounding the Italian Grand Prix, it was very easy to move on.

Whenever Vance appeared before the media on Luca’s behalf, he repeatedly stated that his client was ready.

And when the pestering reporters pressed further, asking how ready Rennick was after the chaos of Monza, Vance simply said, determined-to-win ready.

He wasn’t wrong, because Luca had set his mind on Budapest as win or nothing, just like he had for Monza.

But he didn’t have a dream this time.

This young man had false dreams. They were sweet deceptions that didn’t come true.

He hadn’t won the Italian GP, after all. So, not dreaming this time meant he actually could win.

If Luca told someone that logic, they’d think he was a madman.

Last year’s Hungarian Grand Prix was won by Davide DiMarco, a memory that refreshed Luca’s mind with the image of his long-resting rival.

Luca had finished behind him in P2, even after a dirty contact with Damgaard.

That was the first scuffle he had with Jimmy, and he could never forget it.

The two of them had clashed heads in the pitlane in frustration, birthing a rivalry.

Many predicted that it was the beginning of the nastiest rivalry Formula 1 had ever seen, but it seemed the dynamic between Luca and Damgaard wasn’t as heated as before.

In all previous Hungary GPs, Luca had used Sync Buff, so this time, he wanted to see how well he could perform on the Hungaroring purely through his own dexterity.

He worked toward sharpening it.

Drills felt more pioneering, governed by a new head of Driver Performance, a man of committed character and zealousness.

The man’s name was Marcel Thiemann, and he brought with him a group of seven specialists from Nordvind Racing.

They were all happy to work with Rennick.

After being on the receiving end of his driving skill and acumen, they knew exactly what they now had the privilege to refine.

Victor, the team’s second driver, was also seen as a treasure under Thiemann’s guidance rather than the disposable placeholder Trampos management had begun to treat him as.

Mr. Thiemann believed he could shape something stratospheric out of Surmann under Rennick’s competitive influence.

And if he succeeded, what would it add to his own career as a performance architect? A craftsman of drivers, the best driver manager!

Victor was lucky; this new group brought to Trampos the crucial notion that he was moldable, worth sculpting, not discarding.

In the same week that the new additions joined, Luca had a virtual meeting with a select board of the FIA alongside two Trampos representatives—Vallotton and Mr. Berry.

The topic centered around the fuel saga that had struck him during the Italian Grand Prix.

They had to admit it had been a catastrophe for everyone involved; Luca himself, the team, and even other drivers on track.

It was made clear that Luca had finished the race on the brink of disqualification.

He had exactly 1.0L of fuel left in the car!

The rule in Formula 1 stated that a driver would be disqualified even after finishing if the post-race fuel check revealed less than 1.0L remaining.

Whether or not it was the driver’s fault, the verdict in such cases was always disqualification, as the FIA aimed to prevent all possible hazards from fuel irregularities.

When Luca’s Ferrari was checked after the race, the result read precisely 1.0L.

Luca couldn’t help but laugh whenever he remembered this revelation from the report.

He thought he had been driving on an empty car.

It seemed his system was smarter than he realized. It had been alerting him for the 1.0L threshold, not total emptiness.

That was very helpful.

The meeting ended far more informally than it had begun.

Mr. Berry cracked a particularly funny joke before logging off, and even the usually stern FIA board members couldn’t help but laugh.

Before it concluded, Luca was advised to concede to a fuel top-up next time, both for his own safety and that of the other drivers on track.

Luca agreed.

One of the drill days turned out to be far more eventful than planned, as the enthusiasm the new Thiemann group brought had the entire team training beyond the scheduled hours.

New simulation concepts were introduced, and both Luca and Victor immersed themselves fully, testing, laughing, and learning together as they tried to master the adjustments.

By late afternoon, heavy rain began drumming against the headquarters’ glass panels, and most of the crew knew it was time to pack up and call it a day.

But Luca and Victor refused to stop. Luca simply wasn’t tired, and Victor couldn’t bear the idea of cutting short the fun he was having.

It even got dark, the bright lights of the facilities illuminating the white walls and tiles to a blinding reflection, dreaming the moment.

Apart from learning in the career-aligned aspect, Victor found himself unconsciously learning more from Luca’s personality.

Never in his life had Victor admired someone this deeply. Luca seemed to embody the very definition of discipline and control that he had longed to understand.

Whenever Luca walked into a room, Victor’s eyes instinctively lit up.

He would abandon whatever he was doing, alert and ready, just to see if Luca needed him.

During every training or race day, that simple tap on the shoulder from Luca, followed by the reassuring handshake, was all it took to anchor him to focus.

It was why Victor always felt that whenever he finished poorly, he wasn’t just letting the team down, he was letting Luca down.

From Luca, he had learned composure, emotional mastery, and the quiet art of being a reliable man, all through mere observation.

No father, uncle, or mentor had ever given Victor this kind of privilege, yet Luca was doing it unknowingly, without uttering a word.

It was safe to say that until Martin grew old enough to count his own feet, Luca’s biggest fan in the world was his teammate, Victor Surmann.

After the Italian Grand Prix, the respect for Luca within the team had soared to new heights, reaching a level that might be the limit.

No reprimand came his way after his disobedience of the team order for a fuel top-up.

And why would it? It was that very act of defiance that had kept Trampos alive in the immediate title race.

Some of the crew who had never once doubted any of his calls in the cockpit now wondered aloud why others ever did, even for a second.

"This man built Trampos brick by brick," one of them said. "And if one day he decides to tear it all down, then by all rights, he’s free to do it!"

This could’ve been the same mentality for everyone in Trampos, but ever since the Rising Suns began expanding, that old patriotism that once burned so fiercely had begun to dwindle.

The management was no longer composed of those who had witnessed the team’s baby days in F2, those who had seen how much struggle, sacrifice, and risk it took to make Trampos a household name.

Now, new business partners from varying financial pools had affiliated themselves with the team, and unfortunately, not all of them shared the same derby spirit or the emotional drive behind the team’s legacy.

Some hadn’t even visited Ansel’s memorial.

They viewed everything from a cold lens of strictly business, acknowledging the achievements, the history, the milestones, but disregarding the feelings behind them.

It was both good and bad.

It was good because it kept Trampos structured and lucrative; bad because it threatened to extinguish the very soul that had built it.

Balance was needed for a happy team.

But corporate minds like Mr. Ojukwu wanted complete formality, not balance.

He believed Luca was stepping out of his role as just the team’s driver and slowly becoming an influencer and unofficial manager, something he wasn’t comfortable with.

Apart from Thiemann, Victor didn’t personally like all these new additions.

They made the team feel foreign in certain sectors. Trampos had begun to lose its old scent too within the headquarters.

Still, he gave them the green eye, respecting their positions and letting them work in peace.

But deep down, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to switch sides if any of them ever turned against his mentor, Luca.

That would be their own end.

Luca was bigger than anyone else on the team. Luca was bigger than the team.

That same night, when they finally decided to call it a day, Luca heard Victor mumble something about heading back to his quarters to sleep.

It struck Luca with the sharpest pang of memory.

He remembered the old days when he too used to live inside Trampos, sleeping in the same metallic quarters, eating from the same cafeteria, and dreaming of the same impossible victories!

He understood that feeling perfectly and couldn’t help but smile.

Soon enough, this young man too would buy his own house, live free, and rise just like he did.

Out of affection and to keep the fun of the night alive, Luca offered Victor a ride instead.

He drove him to a luxurious hotel, a glowing marvel in the wet Berlin night, dropped him off, and told him to enjoy himself—that he would cover everything.