Chapter Theme:

Madeon - The City

She’s still half asleep when she hears the knock at the door, and it isn’t until the second time it knocks a moment later that she even considers getting up and answering it all. Irene is already awake and out of bed. The digital alarm clock on the bedside table reads just past seven in the morning. With great effort Seulgi rolls over and rubs her head and pushes herself up against the headrest and sits, listening to Irene’s footsteps out in the kitchen. She hears the click of the lock and the door opening and then it’s Irene saying, ‘Joy?’

‘Hey,’ Joy says, muted through the walls, in a voice vivid enough that Seulgi can tell she’s smiling even without seeing her.

‘What are you doing here? It’s seven in the morning.’

‘Am I interrupting something? I was looking for Seulgi, but if you two are—’

‘No,’ Irene mutters, and Seulgi has to lean forward in bed and strain to hear. ‘Do you want a coffee or something?’

‘Sure.’

By the time Seulgi’s dressed into her pyjamas and roused herself from sleep Joy and Irene are sat at her kitchen table sipping coffee. Joy fully dressed and oddly awake for seven in the morning and Irene dressed only in a thin shirt and sweatpants. She smiles at Seulgi standing in the bedroom doorway, still yawning and confused.

‘Morning,’ Joy says.

‘Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you at this time. Or at all, actually.’

‘I can leave, if you want to go back to bed. Or if…you know. You just want me to go in general.’

‘No,’ Seulgi mumbles. ‘No, it’s alright. Do you want anything to eat?’

Joy shakes her head. ‘I’m not stopping long,’ she says. ‘I’ve got somewhere to be. I just thought I’d drop by and say hello and ask you something. I’ve got a proposition for you. A pretty big one, actually. It’s where I’m going in about an hour’s time. I thought I should ask you.’

‘A proposition?’

‘Yeah.’

Seulgi and Irene glance at each other and Irene shrugs. Slowly Seulgi wipes her eyes and shifts into the kitchen and leans against the kitchen counter with her arms folded. ‘What is it?’ she asks.

Joy sips her coffee. After a while she says, ‘I need your help. Well, actually, I don’t need you help. I just want it. I thought you’d be the best person for the job.’

‘What job? What do you need?’

‘It’s a pretty big ask. Especially with only a month until the season starts.’

‘What is it?’

Joy drinks her coffee again. As if she’s hesitant to continue. Then with an air of practiced nonchalance she says, ‘I’m taking part in a race this weekend and I need your help.’

‘A race? What? What race?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene says, ‘what race?’

‘Well,’ says Joy, ‘it’s actually a rally stage.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah.’ They both look at her and she continues. ‘It’s the final round of the Pan-Asia Rally 2020 season.’

‘But it’s 2021.’

‘Yeah, I know. Whatever. Their schedule's a bit weird, I guess. It's the 2020 to 2021 season or something. Anyway, the final stage is in a forest just north of Gapyeong. An hour or two from here. This Friday to next Monday. It’s split into two different categories for the final round – the Pros and the Open. Well, they call it the Open, but really it’s just a polite way of saying amateurs. And I decided, why not compete? It’ll be fun. I love rallying.’

‘So you’re competing in the Pro category?’

‘No. In the Open. I don’t have a rally license, so I can’t compete properly.’

‘What’s the Open category, then?’

‘Like I said, amateurs. You take along your own car and your own team and you compete for a smaller prize. It’s open to anyone, provided you’ve got a basic driving license and proof of experience in a rally setting. And you sign a bunch of forms waiving away the company's responsibility and saying you understand the risks and you won’t hold them responsible if you, y’know…crash into a tree or something like that.’

‘Are you planning on crashing into any trees?’

‘No,’ Joy says. She finishes the last of her coffee and sets it down on the table. ‘This is decent coffee, you know? Where’s it from?’

‘Just from the store around the corner.’

‘Well, it’s a good store. Tastes fresh. Anyway, yeah. That’s about the gist of it. I’m participating in the Gapyeong Rally and I want your help, Seulgi. That’s what I came to talk about.’

Seulgi and Irene just look at each other again. Then Seulgi says, slowly, ‘What do you mean? I’m confused by a couple things.’

‘Sure. What about?’

‘Well, first – you said you need a team for this, right? You said that the amateurs – Open category, whatever – need to bring along their own car and their own team.’

‘Yeah. Don’t worry about that. I’ve got a team and I’ve got the car and the sponsors and stuff. A bunch of the Apex guys and girls. The bosses even agreed on throwing a couple sponsor decals on the car. That’s all sorted already.’

‘Wait, what? How?’

‘I’ve been planning this for a couple months now. Since before the F1 season ended, honestly. You won’t believe how much work it took to convince the bosses to sign off on this. I had to convince them it'd be good publicity for Apex. They were adamant about forcing me to not sign up, which I suppose makes a lot of sense, because their reasoning was that if I ended up, uh…crashing it into a tree, the insurance costs would be through the roof. And if it were really bad, maybe they’d even have to find another driver or something to be your partner for next year. But it won’t be that bad. I won't wrap it around a tree. Don’t worry.’

Irene is silent. She looks at Seulgi and Seulgi is equally quiet, lips pursed as she listens, and then eventually says, ‘I never knew you liked rallying. Or did it or anything.’

‘Always been a fan. I’ve been rallying since I first learnt how to drive, pretty much. In fact, I think I might be better at driving rally cars than F1 cars. Or nearly. I just never had the time to work towards a professional license, and especially not once I started in F1. So I just do a couple rallies here and there in the offseason. That’s where I was last year’s winter break – did a couple in China, one in Japan. Was super fun. And now they’re doing one here in Korea, so I thought, why not?’

‘And you want my help?’

‘I want you to be my co-driver.’

‘What?’

Joy nods idly. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘I made a shortlist of people I want to be in a car with, and then I narrowed that list down to people I’d be confident being in a car with when that car in question was driving through the middle of a forest at a hundred kilometres per hour, and then I narrowed that list even further to people who would actually maybe say yes. And as it turns out, I had only one name on my list.’

‘Me?’

‘You.’

Seulgi is quiet for a while. She looks at Irene and Irene only shrugs. As if to say: It’s your decision to make. ‘Wait,’ Seulgi says. ‘Is this some sort of trick or something? Or, like, loyalty test?’

‘What? No. I genuinely am going rallying this weekend and I genuinely want you to come along with me. I think you’ll enjoy it. You enjoy all types of racing, no?’

‘Yeah. Of course. Racing is my life. But I don’t know about this. I mean, I know a bit about rallying, but—’

‘You won’t be driving the car. That’s my job. You’re my navigator.’

‘That’s probably even worse. I’ve never done pacenotes in my life.’

‘It’s easy,’ Joy says. Then she says, ‘Actually, it’s not. Not at all. Ignore that. But I’m confident you can learn quickly.’

‘In the next three days?’

‘Well, less actually, since I’m busy with signing us up and getting the car sorted today and tomorrow. So, basically one day on Thursday, and then we go rallying. But hey, don’t sweat it. It’s only the amateurs category, right?’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘How about yes?’

Seulgi is quiet. Then in a hesitant voice she says, ‘Yes.’

‘Great. Sorry for coming over so early and everything. I just didn’t think I’d get time later today, and I figured it was worth a shot since I was in the area and I didn’t know if you’d answer your phone. Sorry again.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘I was up anyway,’ Irene says. ‘I’m always up at this time. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?’

‘Yeah,’ Joy says, standing up and pushing her chair back under. ‘I should get going anyway. Got places to be. Seulgi, you ready?’

‘Uh, yes?’ Seulgi says.

‘Sweet. I’ll pick you up on Thursday morning and we’ll drive to the location. Any other questions?’

To this Seulgi is silent and Irene has to stifle a laugh. They see her out of Seulgi’s apartment and it isn’t even a minute before Irene turns around and giggles and says, ‘Did that really just happen?’

‘I think so. I’m not entirely sure. It felt like a dream or something.’

‘Yeah. But congrats, I guess.’

‘On what?’

‘On the rallying career.’

‘Is this the right decision? I mean, it was kind of out of the blue.’

‘It’s up to you,’ Irene reminds her. ‘You can always ring her and say you’re not feeling like it, or you felt pressured, or whatever.’

‘I could. But at the same time, I kind of do want to do it. I haven’t gone rallying in years.’

‘I didn’t know you’d ever been rallying before.’

Seulgi nods. ‘Back when I raced in Super Formula. I did a couple amateur Rallycross events on the side. Nothing serious or for proper prizes – basically just closed-circuit rally racing on old tracks. It was fun. Very fun. I even won a couple.’

‘Of course you did,’ Irene says with a laugh.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Sure. I’m going back to bed, by the way.’

‘It’s, like, half seven.’

‘Yeah, exactly. Way too early. I seriously don’t know how you do it. Every time I have to get up at six for our flights I feel like death for the rest of the day. It's the worst part of the season. Your body clock is so messed up.’

‘Maybe yours is. Maybe early starts are better.’

‘Whatever. Are you coming to bed?’

‘No.’

Seulgi pouts, to no avail.

‘I can’t,’ Irene says. ‘Not now that I’m awake and up.’

‘Well then at least you can make me some pancakes. And coffee. And maybe some bacon. To make it up to me.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Seulgi says, fighting back a cheeky smile.

It’s a testament to how far she’s come as a person that she even texts at all. And it’s a similar surprise she gets when her phone buzzes half an hour later with a simple reply asking where and when.

Thursday is a cold and rainy day deep in the heart of January. From the window of her favourite café Irene sits and spots out the afternoon in the way she often does, categorising the world into shapes and colours and sizes. It's an odd form of tranquility, never failing to calm her. The streetlamps still dark, the small pinprick marks of rain still softly falling, the pale and conical car lights as they cut out through the dimness and disappear again. The Styrofoam coffeecup in her hands is almost too hot. For some reason she’s moderately nervous. It isn’t until Wheein steps in ten minutes later and peels away the hood of her coat that she loosens up at all.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Wheein says.

‘It’s a bit wet out there.’

‘Yeah, you can say that again. Are we ordering anything?’

‘They don’t really do much here.’

‘Right,’ Wheein says. She orders herself an espresso and a sandwich and takes off her coat and sets it down beside her on the bench with a sigh. For a while Irene just sits there, unsure of how to proceed or what to say. Or what to do at all. Friendship still remains somewhat of a luxury, even now, after everything she’s been through. But change is a slow and laborious process. A single text to Wheein is the catalyst for something greater. And yet it takes her a significant amount of effort to work up the courage to say: ‘I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘What? Why not?’

‘I just didn’t.’

‘Why?’

Irene shrugs shyly, hands playing with her coffeecup. ‘It’s just…in five years, how many times have we met outside of work?’

‘Three, I think.’

‘Yeah, and all three were after meetings, on a whim. I’ve never text you to ask to meet and you’ve never text me.’

‘That’s just who we are.’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘I’ve never ignored you,’ Wheein says. ‘Just to clarify that – I’ve never gone out of my way to make sure we don’t meet. I’m just not the sort of person to text others first or anything. Maybe that’s a bad thing, but so far it’s done me fine. And you’re not that sort of person either.’

‘I know. Or at least, I wasn’t. I think maybe I’m starting to be it now.’

‘Thanks to Seulgi?’

‘Yeah. Kind of.’

At this Wheein only nods and smiles in understand, as if cognizant of the wider reasoning behind Irene texting her – the desire to make friends. The pursuit of things outside of Seulgi and Formula 1 and the championship she no longer holds. ‘I saw someone in your shoes the other day,’ Wheein says.

‘Really?’

‘Well, I think they were. They looked a lot like your shoes. Have they gone on sale yet?’

‘A limited run went out in December.’

‘Then they must’ve been. They had that little logo on and everything.’

Irene tries to hide her blush behind her coffeecup and fails.

‘How’s that coming along, by the way? The fashion, I mean. The new hobbies. Enjoying it all?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ Irene says. The beaming grin and enthusiasm are enough to tell Wheein that she’s telling the truth. No more cleverly masked deceit. ‘These past few weeks I’ve been designing this new line of watches with IWC. You should see the finished product. It’s this amazing rose-gold, ruby-red sort of combo deal. Looks so stunning. I’ve never been much of a watch person before, but now…’

‘Now you are?’

‘Guess so. I think I just needed to—’

‘Do it.’

‘Yeah. How’d you know?’

‘You said the same about your shoes,’ Wheein replies in amusement. ‘I must say, it’s pretty cool seeing you like this, all…you know. Happy and .’

‘Yeah, it feels it, too.’

‘Is that why you text me?’

Irene only shrugs. It’s enough of a response in itself for Wheein to add, ‘I don’t mind, you know? I like it. And like I said, I’ve never ignored you or anything. You’re one of the people I feel most comfortable being around, probably because of how much time we spend together at work. And if we’re being honest for a minute – and feel free to correct me I’m wrong – but apart from Seulgi and, like, I guess your parents, how many other people have seen you as intimately as I have? Your highest highs and your lowest lows. Victory and defeat. The crying in happiness and the crying in agony and shame and everything in between.’

‘Pretty much no one.’

‘Exactly. So, yeah. Maybe we should meet more often. Maybe we should bring Yeri along, too. That night in Mexico was something else.’

‘I’m surprised you remember any of it.’

‘I don’t, really. But I’m sure it was fun. She’s a riot. I’m gonna miss her next year, crazy as it sounds.’

‘We’ve had this conversation with her already,’ Irene says. ‘She told us she’s not going anywhere, so best get used to her being around. Because she’s still the same old Yeri, just in red now. Crazy at it still sounds saying that.’

‘Forza Ferrari, am I right?’

‘Yeah, that’s what she said. Seems she’s taken to the whole Darling-of-the-Italian-Media thing pretty well already. I’m sure she’ll get on really well.’

‘You think she’ll beat you? Or that Ferrari will beat us?’

‘No and no, respectively.’

‘Well,’ Wheein says, taking a bite of her sandwich. ‘You got any plans for the rest of the holidays?’

‘Not really, apart from finishing up some fashion commitments and a bit of practice. But otherwise, no. What about you?’

‘The same, really. Where’s Seulgi?’

‘At a rally event today.’

‘What? Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene says. ‘Joy asked her to be her co-driver for the last leg of the Pan-Asia Rally or something. Can’t remember what the exact name was, but they’re in Gapyeong right now practicing for it tomorrow.’

‘Has she ever done rally before?’

‘Yeah, she used to do it before single seaters. Said she’s pretty good at it, too, and who am I to doubt her? I’ve seen her drive cars before. She’s pretty good at it. Apart from Gran Turismo, but that’s a different story entirely.’

‘Oh, man. Which Gran Turismo?’

‘Arcade version.’

‘Now that’s a great idea,’ Wheein says with a grin.

‘What is?’

‘Fancy a couple games of GT Arcade?’

‘Are you serious? What is it with everyone and that ing game? I mean, I’m not complaining, since I’ll beat you and everything, but seriously. All Seulgi ever does is spend her time in the arcade. I’m beginning to think she loves that place more than she loves me.’

‘I’m actually scary good at Gran Turismo,’ Wheein says. ‘Like, I’m not great in real cars, but in video games I’m untouchable. The thing is, people like you and Seulgi don’t realise they’re nothing like real life at all. All pro drivers are the same. They try and treat it like it’s a real thing, where you’ve got to do all the little tricks you do in real life, but it’s not like that all. I’ll show you.’

‘I’m sorry, but there’s not a chance you’re beating my time. It took Seulgi 230 tries and she still hasn’t done it.’

‘How about we go see right now?’ Wheein asks, smirking. And all Irene can do is shrug and laugh and say, ‘Sure thing. Should be fun.’

It’s utterly miserable outside. So much so that standing at the window and peering out at the cars sat along the gravel trap Seulgi begins to have second thoughts about it all. Long skeins of dark rain running down the glass. Puddles in what remains of the asphalt. The gravel road leads down and into the thick of the woodland and the trees hanging overhead look sullen and evil and here and there the grass has grown so long it’s hard to see much of anything at all. It smells of coffee and beans and toast.

‘Hey champ,’ Joy says, shaking her from her momentary dreaming.

‘Hey.’

‘You ready to go?’

‘No. But whatever.’

‘Done any practice?’

‘I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours studying pacenotes and circuit layouts. Not that I expect it to help me much, but whatever. When are we going?’

Joy’s already fixed up in her racing suit. Seulgi spends a moment studying her. It’s a good deal different from how she looks on F1 weekends – the white and orange of Apex replaced by her own personal sponsors, a dark blue suit with gold and red Red Bull badges and Microsoft logos. But it’s a good look nonetheless. ‘A couple minutes,’ Joy says. ‘First time through is our recon run. Then we do another this evening. Then the actual event is tomorrow afternoon, at two PM. And then we wait for all the pro stuff to be finished. If we’re lucky we’ll get chance to do it again on Sunday.’

‘What do you mean do it again?’

‘Sometimes they let us back out onto the circuit once the competition’s over.’

‘And you willingly do it?’

‘Would you not?’

And thinking about it for a second Seulgi decides she absolutely would. ‘I’m ready,’ she says. ‘Let’s go.’

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ Joy says with a confident smile. They head out into the light rain and across the gravel trap to the lot at the very end, closest to the opening of the forest. Here in Gapyeong it looks like it might as well be another planet. A place in the middle of nowhere. It smells of dust and moss and more rain still yet to come. They spend a while looking around and spotting out the other drivers and engineers and team members and discussing them and then Joy shows them to their car. It’s a small Citroen hatchback, a good metre and a half shorter than their F1 car and narrower, too, with a huge rear spoiler and a trim bodykit and a front bumper very low to the ground and rather menacing looking. It’s plastered entirely in the same Red Bull logos as Joy is.

‘Citroen C3 Racing,’ Joy says. ‘She’s a beauty, no?’

‘She’s not quite Reve.’

‘Who is Reve?’

‘My— never mind. She’s pretty.’

‘380 horsepower, 400 newton metres of torque. There or thereabouts.’

‘Four-wheel drive?’

‘On a rally car? Duh. This isn’t the sixties.’

‘Right.’

‘Had the team nab her for me. I reckon she’s just about good enough to make it through here in one piece. Actually, probably quite a bit better than that.’

‘Are you going to name her?’

‘What.’

Seulgi responds with a shrug of the shoulders. ‘Name her. The car, I mean. Are you going to give her a name?’

‘I never thought about that. Is that what you do? Is that who Reve is?’

‘Yeah. My championship-winning car.’

‘Damn,’ Joy mumbles. ‘Hey, maybe you've got the right idea. It seemed to bring you luck last year.’

‘Well.’

Joy is quite for a moment. Then she says, ‘What about Thunderbird?

‘Thunderbird?’

‘Yeah. What's wrong with that?’

‘It's not exactly a girl's name, is it?’

‘Why does it have to be a girl?’

‘Point taken,’ Seulgi says.

When they’re sat inside the car – Seulgi squashed into the narrow passenger’s seat with the rollcage just behind her head – they spend a while longer studying the other competitors coming and going. Most of them are old Ford Fiestas or Korean-made Kias with plastic bodykits and one or two more exotic foreign cars, a Lancia Delta and a navyblue Subaru Impreza STI and two WRC-spec Toyota Yaris’.

‘Am I going to say it, or are you?’ Seulgi asks.

‘Go on.’

‘Half of them are…you know. Old people. Or children.’

‘Well, it is the Open category. They’re amateurs, Seulgi.’

‘Still. I feel a bit bad now.’

‘It’s for fun. And no offence, but I think you’re massively underestimating the skill of some of these people. Like, really massively. And anything can happen out there in the woods. Especially in the rain.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Are you ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ Seulgi says. Joy starts the car and pulls out slowly and down to where the marshals are all gathered at the start line just before the trees fan out endlessly. It’s a great deal darker beyond the open air. As if they’re about to embark on a journey into some limitless wasteland conjured from a nightmare. The engine sounds so much different to their Formula 1 car and Seulgi notices it immediately. It’s a harsher and more guttural sound, a cough and choke of gas and a clunk of the gearbox, as if the car is almost fighting with itself. Joy gives a thumbs up to the marshals and says something out the window to a man with a clipboard. She closes up the window and looks at Seulgi, helmet tight on her head, and says, ‘Are you ready?’

Seulgi holds up her notepad and pens. ‘Let’s do this,’ she says, and suddenly the adrenaline all comes rushing back, just like that.

The Midnight is still playing through the speakers when they arrive just before six in the evening. Irene thinks perhaps they’ll be playing The Midnight for the rest of time. Wheein stands by the doorway gazing at these sights Irene has long since become accustomed to with a sort of childlike wonder. ‘This place,’ she mumbles. ‘This place is ing cool. You should’ve text me about this before. Like, years ago.’

‘I only found out about it a couple months back. When Seulgi showed me it. Said it was one of her favourite places.’

‘Yeah?’

Irene nods.

‘I’m starting to like your girlfriend more and more. I really think you should introduce us.’

‘I will sometime. I will. Come on.’

She buys a handful of tokens and shows Wheein around like a tour guide. Aside from a handful of kids they’re mostly alone. The pink neon ringed around like fairylights. At the far back Irene introduces the two racing seats with the huge GRAN TURISMO ARCADE LCD screen lit up in front of them and leans against the one she’s claimed as her own and says, ‘Here it is. You ready for this?’

‘I haven’t seen this in, like, three years. Can’t remember the last time I played it.’

‘Making excuses already?’

‘Oh, no. Not at all. I’m just saying.’

‘You ready?’

‘Sure,’ Wheein says with a cheeky smile. She sits and thumbs through the menus with a sort of ease that suggests to Irene she’s done it all before. Irene picks her white Nissan and Wheein a yellow Honda NSX and then it’s up to Irene to choose the circuit. ‘Well?’ she says. ‘Which one?’

‘Any. I don’t mind. They’re all the same to me.’

‘How about Night City? That’s the one me and Seulgi always play on.’

‘Sure.’

The screen flashes telling them to get ready. Suddenly Wheein’s feet are on the pedals and her face is a mask of concentration like Irene has rarely seen before. She drives in silence, not even glancing over or grinning or anything. Four minutes later the screen says in bright white text PLAYER TWO WINS, and it’s a picture of Wheein’s yellow Honda that shows up victorious, and then – after Wheein has thumbed in her name on the score screen – the Night City top three leaderboards:

WHEEIN – 3:54:772 – 1 ATTEMPT

IRENE – 3:57:601 – 11 ATTEMPTS

SEUL – 3:58:019 – 214 ATTEMPTS

For a while Irene just sits there, unable to move or talk. Then she pivots a slight in her chair to find Wheein giggling and says, ‘How the did you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Be three seconds faster than me on your first attempt.’

‘Maybe we should talk about Seulgi. Two hundred and fourteen attempts? I mean, Jesus, you weren’t kidding.’

‘Seriously, how did you manage that?’

Wheein shrugs, still grinning ear to ear. ‘I told you,’ she says, ‘it’s all about treating it as a video game and not real life. It’s about having no fear, is all. And I’m really good at games. The physics and stuff is all different. You’ve got to get a hand on all of that.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No hard feelings or anything. Don’t take it personally.’

‘I thought I was unbeatable at this.’

‘Well, think again.’

‘If you can do that, why aren’t you a Formula 1 driver?’

‘Really now,’ Wheein says with a little laugh. ‘It’s a video game, Irene.’

When Irene replies it’s with a little embarrassed tint of red rosying her cheeks, so adorable and uncharacteristic Wheein has to fight back a laugh. She says quietly, ‘Hey, can you do me a favour and remove your time from the leaderboards?’

‘What?’

‘I mean, I’m not upset or anything. Like, you won fair and square. It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘This is something I always tease Seulgi about. It’s cute watching her get all wound up about the fact she can’t beat me, even after two hundred tries at it. And then if she comes back next week and sees you right at the top – three whole seconds faster than me, and after only one attempt – well…I won’t be able to anymore. You know?’

Wheein just laughs. It’s a laugh that has Irene shyly and uncharacteristically shrugging her shoulders at nothing, as if it clarifies her statement at all. Then Wheein says, ‘Sure. Whatever you like. But you’re gonna have to live with the fact I absolutely demolished you. I am the reigning and defending Gran Turismo Arcade champion.’

‘Whatever you say. Just please don’t tell Seulgi.’

‘My lips are sealed, champ.’

‘Thanks,’ Irene says. She realises very suddenly she’s smiling for no reason at all. Perhaps it’s the fact of the Gran Turismo or perhaps it’s simply just being here with Wheein but whatever it is she’s smiling for a long time. Thinking again that things change over a long period of time and this is one of things but this is the start of something great, racing or otherwise.

‘Hey,’ Wheein says. ‘Fancy another round? That was pretty fun. I bet I could even beat my time again. I know I was missing a bunch of time in that twisty bit in the middle there.’

‘Please can you—’

‘Yeah, I’ll delete my times. Don’t worry, you’ll still be champ. Technically speaking.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Man, I really think you should introduce me to Seulgi. I feel like we’d get along like a house on fire.’

‘I will,’ Irene says, and she’s smiling again.