’Keep smiling, Alessandro,’ Leo thought. ’The shock is going to be so much better when the lights are real.’

He pulled into the Arcadia box. Pete and the crew were waiting. They looked tired, their suits stained with grease and sweat, but there was a new spark in their eyes. They had seen the purple sectors in the middle of the session. They knew the car was capable of more than P7.

Leo killed the engine. The sudden silence was jarring, filled only by the ticking of the cooling metal and the distant hum of the crowd. He stayed in the car for a moment, letting his heart rate drop back to its baseline. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"Great effort, Leo," Pete said, leaning over to help him with the HANS device. "You gave us a lot to work with. That long run on the used set was brave. Most kids would have binned it trying to stay fast."

Leo climbed out of the cockpit, his muscles stiff. The physical toll of the real car was immense. His neck felt like it had been stretched on a rack, and his lower back was a dull throb of pain. But his mind was sharp.

Anya met him at the back of the garage, handing him a chilled bottle of water. She didn’t say anything at first. She just watched him as he pulled off his helmet and balaclava. His face was pale despite the heat, his eyes dark and focused.

"P7," she finally said. "It’s a good start, Leo. Better than anyone expected."

"It’s not where we’re going to stay," Leo replied. He took a long drink of the water, the coldness hitting his throat like a shock.

Elias walked over, holding his tablet. "The tire wear was exactly what you predicted, Leo. By shifting the bias, you saved nearly four percent of the tread on that right-rear. If we carry that strategy into the Sprint Race, we can out-last the Prema cars easily."

"We won’t need to out-last them in the Sprint if we’re ahead of them," Leo said.

Elias blinked. "You think we can take them in Qualifying? Rossi is three-tenths ahead, and he wasn’t even on a full-attack lap."

Leo looked at the timing screen one last time. He thought about the ten Freedom Units he had left. Ten days. If he didn’t dominate this weekend, the clock would run out. He didn’t just need a "good result." He needed the points. He needed the life-force the system promised.

"Rossi is fast because he’s comfortable," Leo said, his voice quiet so the neighboring teams couldn’t hear. "He’s driving the track he knows. I’m driving the track the simulation built for me. There’s a difference."

Anya looked at him, her brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means he has a limit," Leo said. "I don’t."

He turned and walked toward the back of the garage to change. As he walked, he felt the eyes of Marcus Berg, his teammate, on him. Berg had finished P11, nearly half a second slower than Leo. The Swede looked frustrated, his jaw set tight. The "friendly teammate" mask was starting to slip.

Leo didn’t care. Teammates, rivals, fans, they were all just background noise.

He reached the changing area and sat down, pulling his phone from his bag. A notification was waiting on the screen. It wasn’t a text or an email. It was a flicker of blue light that only he could see.

『FP1 ANALYSIS COMPLETE.』

『Hidden Potential Maintained: 100%.』

『Rival Confidence Level: High (Estimated).』

『Current Freedom Units: 10.』

『Warning: Proximity to "Infinite Simulation" pod required in 240 hours.』

Leo stared at the warning. Two hundred and forty hours. It sounded like a lot of time, but in the world of Formula 1, it was a heartbeat. He needed to win here. He needed the bonus units that came with a podium finish.

He looked back at the garage. Anya was talking to the engineers, her hands moving as she pointed at the suspension diagrams. She was fighting for this team, fighting for his career. She didn’t know he was fighting for his life.

He felt a surge of cold, focused energy. He had spent years as a ghost, a technician who knew every bolt of the car but never felt the wind. Now, he had the wind. He had the power. And he had the skills of a man who had died a thousand times in a digital void just to learn how to take a corner perfectly.

He stood up, his gear bag over his shoulder.

"Leo?" Anya called out. "We’re heading to the hospitality for the debrief. You coming?"

"In a minute," Leo said.

He walked to the front of the garage and stood at the edge of the pit lane. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long, dramatic shadows across the track. The heat was still there, but it was changing, becoming the golden light of the late afternoon.

Qualifying was next. The time for acting was over.

He looked at the timing screen on the wall, seeing his name in seventh place. He let a small, genuine smile form on his lips. It wasn’t a smile of joy. It was the smile of a gambler who knew exactly what card was coming up next.

"Ten days," he whispered to the wind. "By Sunday, I’ll have fifty."

He turned away from the track and headed toward the hospitality suite. He walked past the media pens where journalists were already recording their "mid-day updates." He heard his name mentioned a few times, usually followed by words like "surprising" or "inconsistent."

He didn’t stop to correct them. He didn’t need to. In a few hours, the roar of the V6 engine would do all the talking for him.

The first session of the 2025 season was over. The rookie had survived. The technician had shown he could drive. But the "Hidden Monster" was still waiting in the dark, and Albert Park had no idea what was about to hit it.