Vanka had been waiting at the courtyard gate for a long time, a large bag of health supplements in his hand and a bulging backpack strapped to his shoulders. His figure seemed awkward, yet eager, constantly peering down the road as if afraid to miss something important. The moment he saw Ethan approaching, Vanka's eyes lit up, and he rushed over, enthusiasm bubbling over.
"Ethan, check this out!" Vanka began excitedly pulling things out of his bag as if he had an endless supply. "Blueberry capsules, great for the eyes! Protein powder, boosts strength! Oh, and this one...for virility! All of these are my treasures, carefully prepared for you to use during the race!"
Ethan chuckled, unable to hide his amusement, as he reached out to stop Vanka. "Vanka, Vanka, I'm going to a race, not a bodybuilding competition. But thanks for the thought."
Vanka's face briefly showed a hint of disappointment, but his enthusiasm returned as quickly as it had faded. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, pulling out a stack of business cards from his pocket and stuffing them into Ethan's hand. "Ethan, I need a favor. Hand these out at the race, will you? Tell everyone to come to me when they need a car—Solovt's Vanka won't disappoint them!"
Ethan shook his head in exasperation but laughed, pushing Vanka toward the car. "Alright, Vanka, I'll try—if I remember."
As the engine roared to life, Vanka's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I knew I could count on you, Ethan! So, where are we headed?"
A mysterious smile tugged at the corners of Ethan's lips. "Buckle up—you'll find out soon enough," he said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
As the car sped along the mountain road, Vanka's anticipation quickly turned to terror. His shrieks pierced through the car windows, echoing against the cliffs. "Slow down! Ethan, you maniac, are you trying to kill me?!"
Ethan glanced over at the passenger seat. Vanka had turned pale, his hands gripping the seatbelt for dear life, trying to avoid looking at the road ahead as the car hurtled down the bends. He was already dizzy from the speed.
"Come on, open your eyes! Isn't this amazing?" Ethan laughed, enjoying the thrill.
But soon, Ethan noticed something off. On the straight road, the car's speed was phenomenal thanks to Chandler's modifications. But at the first bend, the car struggled, the once-effortless glide through turns now requiring far more effort.
After the lap, Vanka staggered out of the car, barely making it to the nearest trash can before vomiting. "Ethan, you're a bloody menace!" he yelled between retches.
Ethan's mind, however, was elsewhere. The car wasn't behaving as it should. After dropping Vanka off, he sought out Elton and explained the issue. Elton listened quietly, lighting a cigarette and puffing thoughtfully.
"Strange," Ethan mused. "The car's amazing on straight roads, but it loses all its power on the bends."
A few minutes later, Elton stubbed out his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. "Ethan, watch carefully. I'll only show you once."
Elton's start was quick and smooth, the car responding like a wild beast under his control. They approached the first bend, and Ethan watched in awe as Elton executed a flawless inertia drift. The car whipped around the curve, its rear end sliding out gracefully, the entire vehicle seeming to hover above the track. Instead of losing speed, the car accelerated through the bend, hugging the edge with perfect precision.
"The car's fine," Elton said coolly as he stepped out, handing the keys to Ethan. "To perfect the inertia drift, you need the engine to hit 10,000 RPM."
Ethan stared, wide-eyed, at the speedometer. 350 miles per hour?! He could hardly believe it. Was this the same Elton he knew? Achieving a drift at 350 miles per hour was nearly impossible for any human. Only the world's top drivers, with finely tuned cars and ideal conditions, could pull off such a perfect maneuver at that speed.
Elton completed his demonstration, walking back to Ethan with an air of calm authority. He handed the keys back to him. "Remember, to hit 350 miles per hour, you need 10,000 RPM. But more important than speed is becoming one with the car. And that, Ethan, requires passion and conviction," Elton said, tapping Ethan's chest over his heart.
Elton stood in the sunlight, the beams filtering through the trees and softly landing on his shoulders. His hair glistened under the light, the strands of silver-gray peeking through, marking the years that had passed. These were signs of aging, subtle yet unmistakable, much like the untold stories of pain etched into the wrinkles on his face. His posture was slightly hunched, like a warrior nearing the end of his journey. Though his body had begun to betray him, his eyes still held that same unwavering determination.
Ethan watched him silently, a mix of emotions stirring within. Gratitude, respect, and a hint of awe. Choosing Elton as his coach had been the wisest decision in Joseph's territory, where no one could rival the old man's racing expertise. In his mind, Elton's voice echoed: "More than speed, it's the unwavering passion and faith in your heart that matter most." Those words had burned themselves into Ethan's memory, a constant reminder of the true challenge ahead.
The air around them was quiet, almost too still, as if the world itself was holding its breath for the storm that was yet to come. Elton's figure seemed both real and ethereal under the sun, a constant in a world full of uncertainty. Ethan's heart raced. He knew he had to carry this belief, this love and hope from Elton and everyone else, into the battle ahead. It wasn't just about winning—it was about proving himself, becoming the man he was destined to be.
The day of the race arrived sooner than expected. Ethan hadn't slept a wink the night before. He rose that morning with deep, dark circles under his eyes, darker than black currants, and his hair standing up wildly. He stepped outside, squinting in the early light, and there was Elton, fully dressed and ready. The old man wore his treasured beige sweatpants, paired with the faded number 24 NASCAR shirt from his championship win years ago. Sweat stains were still visible, but despite the wear, the shirt had been meticulously preserved. Ethan couldn't help but glance at it, admiring the piece of history before him.
Feeling Ethan's gaze, Elton tugged awkwardly at the hem of his shirt, then cleared his throat to break the silence. "Hey, kid, what are you standing there for? Today's the big day!"
Snapped back to reality, Ethan rubbed his tired eyes. His nerves were clearly getting the better of him. Normally so confident, he now felt fragile in the face of the upcoming challenge. He walked over to the wall, grabbing a box of grip powder and rubbing it thoroughly over his hands. The air was thick with tension, yet he felt something was missing.
"Where's Aria?" Ethan muttered. It was strange. She was always by his side, and yet today, of all days, she was nowhere to be found.
"Don't let that distract you," Elton said, crouching next to the car, checking the vehicle meticulously. "What matters now is that we head out. Focus, Ethan."
Ethan absentmindedly added another layer of grip powder to his hands, his palms now white as if painted. He took a deep breath and made his way to the car. The engine roared to life, and with that sound, they headed towards the NASCAR track, toward the unknown. This wasn't just another race; this was the beginning of Ethan and Aria's journey to uncover the truth about their shared destiny—and the fate of the clones.