On March 2nd, at dawn, Dominik left the hotel. He drove the Ferrari FF to the official service center in Gangnam.
He called Yeji.
"Miss Hwang," he said when she answered, her voice groggy. "Please pay your debts."
"It's early," she groaned. "You are cold-blooded."
They met at 9:30 AM (she was late) downstairs at her agency. Yeji came down wearing oversized sunglasses and a mask, looking nothing like the fierce idol from the show. Without the stage makeup, she looked younger, almost innocent.
She hopped into the passenger seat of the Ferrari.
"You drive a tank," she muttered.
At the dealership, the estimate came in: 14 million KRW (approx $10,000).
Yeji didn't blink. She pulled out a card and swiped it. No drama.
Dominik raised an eyebrow. Impressive.
"We are even," she said.
"Even," Dominik agreed. He handed the keys to the service manager. "When it's fixed, keep it here. My father will collect it."
He turned to Yeji. "I'm flying to Bahrain today. Good luck with ITZY."
"Good luck with driving fast," she waved.
Dominik landed in Bahrain at 8 PM.
O'Connor had arranged everything. "Tomorrow is media day. Grid photos. Be pretty. Sleep now."
Dominik collapsed into his hotel bed.
The next morning, his alarm screamed at 8:50 AM. He groaned, showered, and headed to the circuit.
The paddock was buzzing. It was "Class Photo" day. He walked into the makeup room and burst out laughing.
Zhou Guanyu was sitting in a chair, his hair styled into a perfect, slick side-part that looked like it had been dipped in oil.
"Hahahaha! You look like a walking oil slick!" Dominik teased.
"Shut up," Zhou grumbled. "You look like a Korean drama actor."
Dominik looked in the mirror. The stylist had given him a similar 70/30 split.
Oscar Piastri walked by, flashing his trademark awkward "koala smile."
"Everyone looks handsome today," Dominik noted. Even Bottas and Magnussen looked cleaned up.
He went backstage and found Russell and Leclerc.
Russell looked miserable. "Three days with Charles," he whispered to Dominik. "He has too much energy. I'm exhausted."
"Did you get makeup?" Dominik asked Leclerc.
"He woke up like that," Russell answered bitterly. "It's annoying."
After the photos were done, the work week was over.
"Three days off before testing starts," Leclerc announced. "We are going to Abu Dhabi."
"We?" Dominik asked.
"You, me, George, and Pierre. The jet is waiting."
"What about Zhou?"
"He has to stay for seat fittings and testing. Sucks to be him."
Dominik grinned. "Let's go."
For three days, they lived the high life in Abu Dhabi—jets skis, nice dinners, and signing autographs only when caught. It was the calm before the storm.
Then, they returned to Bahrain. They hosted a dinner for the group—Leclerc, Russell, Zhou, Piastri.
The holiday was over. The Bahrain Pre-Season Test was about to begin. The real cars. The real pace.
Dominik sat at the dinner table, looking at his friends. In 48 hours, they would be rivals. But for tonight, they were just young men living the dream.