But even if it was a brand-new model just unveiled at the auto show, could it already be out on the road? Maybe the driver was rich enough to make the impossible happen, or maybe they were connected to Motorix Primo. Johann’s guesses were getting dangerously close to the truth.

　　“AAAAARGH!”

　　“Nicky!”

　　At that instant, Nicholas slammed on the brakes to avoid the Starlight that suddenly cut in front of them. Johann twisted aside with incredible reflexes and narrowly avoided smacking his head, but Nicholas was so startled he sat there gasping for breath.

　　As if mocking them, the Starlight kept tapping its brakes, long, then short, over and over. The bright red brake lights seemed to be spelling something out like Morse code, but of course Johann had no idea what, and Nicholas didn’t seem to know either. Which was fine. A taunt you can’t understand isn’t really a taunt.

　　“Johann, what do I do?” Nicholas asked, his voice tight.

　　“What do you mean, what do you do? You said you were gonna drive nice and slow.”

　　Letting a car that reckless and aggressive just go on its way was infuriating, but as long as Nicholas was the one behind the wheel, there was nothing Johann could do.

　　“No, Johann. Don’t you see that black car? What if I get boxed in like that too? You think I’m the only one who gets hurt? You’d get hurt too!”

　　Johann figured that if things got that bad, he would have taken the wheel by then anyway, so he offered, “Then you wanna break out of this?”

　　“…Huh? Yeah! There’s a way?”

　　Nicholas nodded frantically, looking at him like he was his savior.

　　“Then from now on, you hit the pedal exactly when I tell you to.”

　　Johann gave his brother the order in a bright, cheerful voice.

　　“Now!”

　　“…Huh?”

　　“Right! Harder! Floor it!”

　　Nicholas did exactly as Johann told him, trying to cut in to the right, then to the left. The Porsche Johann was riding in was famous for its quick zero-to-sixty, so Nicholas did stomp on the accelerator, except…

　　“Nicky. Are you pressing it…?”

　　Way too slow, Johann grumbled.

　　“I’m pressing it, as hard as I can!”

　　“Not that way. Left, right now! No, too late! Ugh… Nicky, you were supposed to cut in right then.”

　　“Johann, please, tell me one second earlier. This isn’t a race car steering wheel. I don’t have your talent for driving!”

　　“Go now!”

　　“Ahh!”

　　“Aw, damn. Missed it again.”

　　Johann clicked his tongue at Nicky’s pathetic driving and scolded him.

　　“Seriously, Nicky, how did you even get your license? It’s honestly impressive you’ve driven this long without a single accident.”

　　“Do you think I’m you? Aaagh!”

　　“Why are you screaming while you drive? You’re such a scaredy-cat.”

　　“That’s what I’m saying! I’m not some maniac who floors it with his eyes rolled back like you!”

　　In the end, Johann’s car, with Nicholas at the wheel, failed to make a clean escape. There was only so much you could do by driving through voice commands. Johann didn’t have time to patiently explain things to Nicholas while he kept repeating, “Why? Why?”

　　More precisely, Johann didn’t know how to explain it. Someone who drove on pure instinct the way he did had no gift for explaining why it had to be that exact moment. He simply knew in his gut that if they cut in right then, an overtake was possible.

　　“Ugh, that guy’s a really good driver.”

　　Nicholas said it like a complaint, but Johann let it go in one ear and out the other. Good or bad was a judgment that only applied among ordinary drivers. In the world of racers, where fear didn’t even exist and you ran with your life on the line, people like this were all the same.

　　“Yikes!”

　　Sure enough, the Starlights passing by rolled down their windows and started pointing and jeering at Johann’s Porsche.

　　To roughly sum up their taunts:

　　A Porsche that slow? If you’re gonna drive it like that, park it in your bedroom and worship it. Or get out and walk.

　　Something along those lines.

　　In other words, they were mocking them, saying that on the road, a Signiti and a Porsche were in the exact same sorry position.

　　And astonishingly, that was enough to set Johann off.

　　“Do those guys even know who they’re messing with right now…?”

　　Of course Nicholas couldn’t do anything. He drove worse than a perfectly average person, those assholes drove at an ordinary level, and Johann was exceptional. He was the kind of person who could become more aggressive than anyone the moment he got behind the wheel.

　　Name: Johann Hayward. Occupation: motorsport driver. Team: Phoenix Racing, a “prestigious” independent outfit in IndyCar. Age: a hot-blooded twenty-one.

　　Johann wasn’t holding back because he couldn’t drive. If he took the wheel, he could crush those losers before they even reached New York, and he could get there several times faster than those bastards. But this wasn’t a track…

　　HOOONK! HONK! HONK! HOOONK! HONK!

　　The Starlight hammering on its horn like a drum snapped Johann’s train of thought clean in half.

　　No, wait. Why exactly am I the one who has to hold back?

　　Johann flashed a bright smile at the Starlight honking beside him, then gave Nicholas an order.

　　“Nicky, pull over.”

　　Those assholes weren’t exactly decent drivers anyway.

　　“What?”

　　Which meant that even if Johann took the wheel, nothing would really change for the worse.

　　“I said pull the car over.”

　　Nicholas flipped on the hazard lights and, doing as Johann told him, hesitantly eased the car onto the shoulder.

　　“Get out.”

　　“…Huh?”

　　“Are you gonna make me say everything twice?”

　　When Johann snapped at him, Nicholas answered, “Okay, okay!” and hurried out of the driver’s seat. Instead of getting out on the passenger side, Johann clambered over the center console into the driver’s seat and quickly adjusted it. Only then did Nicholas come to his senses.

　　“Johann, don’t you dare leave me behind!”

　　Nicholas scrambled into the car, and before he could even fasten his seat belt, they were off.

　　“AAAAARGH, Johann!”

　　“If you’re scared, hold on tight!”

　　Barely managing to buckle his seat belt, Nicholas stammered out a question.

　　“Johann. This just hit me, so I’m asking in a panic, but your license? You got it reissued, right? You did, right?”

　　Johann was silent for a moment before answering.

　　“Mm. Uh… so here’s the thing. I have a Super License.”

　　A Super License was a license to drive a race car, not a license to drive on public roads.

　　“Like that counts, Johann, you crazy bastaaaard!”

　　The purple Porsche shot forward at tremendous speed, like it had been launched. One car, two cars, three cars. One overtake after another.

　　Johann floored it with everything he had to catch the Starlights that had mocked them and sped off ahead. Before long, they came into view in front of him.

　　The Porsche that had been crawling along suddenly charged at them like a lunatic, and they looked startled too. Johann spotted a sliver of space opening up ahead, stamped on the accelerator, snapped the wheel over to change lanes, and accelerated.

　　People called this kind of move cutting across traffic.

　　“Johann, what the hell are you doing right now!”

　　And the proper virtue of a motorsport driver was to execute such a perfect move without getting worked up at all.

　　“Nicky, you know that Signiti back there? Didn’t it look like an obvious victim to anyone watching? And me, well, believe it or not, driving is my job. How am I supposed to just leave some poor victim getting harassed by guys like that? They could cause an accident.”

　　“Don’t lie! Since when were you ever that much of a champion of justice?”

　　When Nicholas stuck to nothing but the facts, Johann grumbled.

　　“Spoken like a lawyer…”

　　The truth was, Johann had gone after the Signiti for purely selfish reasons.

　　Motorix Primo was one of the top five global automakers in the world, yet it was an odd company that didn’t own a single motorsport team. Of course, it hadn’t always been that way.

　　Ten years ago, Motorix Primo pulled out of the entire motorsport industry, including F1, and ever since then, it had only provided technical support to things like the WRC (World Rally Championship). It never created a team at the corporate level, and it never put its name on a sponsorship. Supposedly, that was the policy of some higher-up inside the company or whatever.

　　Anyway, business interests aside, Johann was genuinely curious about that Signiti. What model was it? How had they placed a custom order? Would they tell him if he asked? Seeing a car like that out in the wild really wasn’t an everyday thing.

　　Of course, even without those impure motives, Johann had plenty of justification to step in. From the looks of it, those road-mafia Starlights were clearly ganging up on one innocent Signiti, and if he could help, then he had to help!

　　Johann simply couldn’t stand watching the Starlights mock a Porsche and a Signiti. He couldn’t even bear to look at it. In his world, if you lined up a Starlight, a Porsche, and a Signiti, he wasn’t sure which car would take the front spot, but the one at the very back was obvious: the Starlight.

　　You’re racing with a car like that? Know your place.

　　Goodbye, Starlight!

　　Johann slammed the throttle wide open without hesitation. With a roar, the RPM on the gauge shot up in an instant.