The air was burning, incinerating all reason.
Even the Tifosi probably never expected a day like this. After half a season of entanglement and confrontation, their allegiance had uncontrollably, overwhelmingly shifted to Kai. Even in a head-to-head duel between Kai and Vettel, they couldn't help but clench their fists and cheer for the rookie.
However, it was futile.
No matter how much the Tifosi cursed and screamed at their televisions, they couldn't move Vettel. The German driver was solely focused on defending his position.
In the pit lane, Toto Wolff and Christian Horner secretly applauded. The longer Vettel held Kai up, the safer Verstappen and Hamilton were. Trouble within Ferrari was music to their ears.
Never underestimate a driver's hunger for speed.
Especially a four-time World Champion!
At the start of the season, everyone believed "Hamilton vs. Vettel" was the main event. But now? The protagonist was being pushed into a supporting role. No normal person could swallow that, let alone a champion. It was a provocation to his pride and dignity. It wasn't just a slap in the face; it was humiliation.
Horner clenched his fists. Hold on a little longer, Seb. You don't want that baby crawling over your head.
On the Ferrari pit wall, Maurizio Arrivabene was caught in a tug-of-war.
Reason told him to prioritize the team. Drivers come and go. As long as the team's results were excellent, his position as Team Principal was secure.
Emotion told him that he and Vettel were bound together. Even if Kai achieved great things for the team, it brought Arrivabene no personal benefit.
Even after half a season, Arrivabene still couldn't adapt to the idea of the Number 1 driver yielding to the Number 2. Especially after the summer storm, every move was tied to his own fate. The situation had grown infinitely more complex.
Beside him, Pierre Borreipaire looked at Arrivabene for the third time, his eyes protesting.
Arrivabene didn't even turn his head. He knew without looking that Pierre was demanding team orders. Pierre was entirely on Kai's side.
On any other track, Kai would have overtaken him by now. It wouldn't be the first time. But passing in Singapore is incredibly difficult. One slight mistake means hitting the wall. So, if Vettel yielded the position himself, it would be infinitely better.
That was why Pierre had told Kai to maintain rhythm, not to impatiently ride Vettel's gearbox.
But Arrivabene's continued silence left Pierre exasperated.
Finally, Pierre broke the silence. "Maurizio, we need an answer."
We.
Pierre didn't say Kai needed an answer. Clearly, Pierre stood with Kai over team politics.
Arrivabene choked with anger, glaring fiercely at Pierre.
Pierre was smart. He wasn't stupid enough to directly confront the Team Principal, especially at such a critical moment. There was no need to show off.
Pierre widened his eyes, looking as innocent as Puss in Boots, meeting Arrivabene's gaze as if he didn't understand the problem.
Just as Arrivabene was about to speak, a collective gasp came from the grandstand behind them.
"Oh, God!"
"Vettel! Lock up!"
"Under immense pressure in Singapore, Vettel pushes the car over the limit! Front wheel lock-up! He's off the track!"
"No!"
"Not again!"
On the broadcast, Turn 10—the treacherous "Singapore Sling" chicane, the most dangerous part of the track.
Vettel's tires locked, billowing white smoke. He narrowly avoided the wall. The entire crowd broke into a cold sweat.
Right behind him, Kai reacted instantly. He swerved around Vettel's slightly off-track car. His reflex speed in a crisis was absolute top-tier. Through the narrow, chaotic chicane, he calmly sliced into the short straight leading to Turn 11, leaving Vettel in the dust in the blink of an eye.
Vettel: ...
"HE! CANNOT! ATTACK! ME!"
Furious! Apocalyptic rage!
Vettel's chest felt like it was exploding. He roared into the radio, his voice shattering eardrums.
Riccardo Adami (his engineer) and Arrivabene were completely engulfed by the tidal wave of fury.
However, Vettel had no time to wait for a reply, because Bottas was charging hard. Vettel hurriedly rejoined the track, desperately blocking the racing line.
Shock washed over both the grandstands and the pit lane.
Horner sighed slightly. He had hoped Vettel could hold out a bit longer.
On the surface, it was Vettel's own driving error. But Horner saw it. The pressure from Kai was too great. Vettel desperately wanted to prove himself. But the harder he tried, the more tense he became, and the more likely he was to make a mistake. Singapore is a track that ruthlessly magnifies errors.
"Seb, oh Seb," Horner shook his head gently, but didn't say much. He immediately opened the radio. "Max, Kai is coming."
On the Ferrari pit wall next door, Arrivabene and Pierre both froze, their conversation interrupted by reality.
After a pause, Pierre withdrew his gaze and spoke into the radio. "Kai, 3.1 seconds to Verstappen."
"Copy," Kai replied.
Next target: Max Verstappen.
Normally, passing is so hard in Singapore that if Verstappen and Hamilton had similar tire wear, and Verstappen couldn't catch Hamilton, he would slow down, save his tires, and focus entirely on defending against Kai to secure second place. A wise choice.
However, Red Bull didn't do that.
Red Bull's strategy is always aggressive. If there's a chance to win, they never pass it up. If not, but they can annoy Mercedes, they won't pass that up either.
Especially now, with the chance to kill two birds with one stone. Horner definitely wouldn't miss it.
So, Verstappen didn't conservatively slow down to defend against Kai. He launched an all-out attack to catch the leading Hamilton.
The race finally entered a high-speed standoff. Hamilton, Verstappen, Kai—the top three drivers were all pushing, extracting the absolute limit from their cars and tires.
The tire difference was obvious now. Under similar conditions, Kai was maintaining a faster rhythm. He was setting faster lap times than both Hamilton and Verstappen. Even as Verstappen chased Hamilton flat out, Kai was steadily growing larger in his mirrors.
However, lapped traffic added unpredictability to the cat-and-mouse chase, escalating the tension between the three cars.
On Lap 39, the situation finally reached a turning point. Kai entered Verstappen's DRS range.
Hamilton, in the lead, sensed the danger. He showed his ruthless side, aggressively passing the battling Perez and Sirotkin, forcefully shoving the two backmarkers right into Verstappen's face. Then, he sped away, seizing the window to rebuild his lead.
Verstappen, tracking Hamilton closely, had poor visibility and failed to accurately judge Perez and Sirotkin's positions.
A delayed reaction, and instantly, he was trapped!
Simultaneously, Kai closed in. Fast cars and slow cars were completely entangled! The smell of gunpowder filled the air! Imminent explosion!
Verstappen's crisis was unprecedentedly clear: wolves ahead, a tiger behind. But the two backmarkers ahead were fighting for their lives, completely ignoring the blue flags ordering them to yield. Verstappen, having missed his overtaking window, was tossed right into Kai's gaping jaws.
Verstappen lost his temper, exploding over the radio. "FUCK! What are they doing?! FUCK! FUCKING IDIOTS! IS HE FUCKING BLIND?!"
Curses flew one after another. Livid. Verstappen couldn't believe what was happening.
They were fighting for the Singapore Grand Prix win, and these two clowns were ignoring blue flags for what? Fifteenth place?!
Fuck!
Verstappen was furious. Were they spies?
Perez was Force India, Sirotkin was Williams—both Mercedes engines. They didn't hesitate to yield to Hamilton, but suddenly went blind when it was Verstappen's turn?
Bullshit!
However, the situation wasn't that simple.
Maybe Verstappen and Kai were fighting for the win, but Perez and Sirotkin were fighting for their careers, defending their seats.
Perez, who had started ahead of Kai, was now at the back fighting Sirotkin for P15. He had already caused his teammate Ocon to crash out. If he performed poorly now, the post-race PR storm would be unimaginable.
And losing to a rookie like Sirotkin, whose Williams seat was already in jeopardy?
That would be adding insult to injury!
Perez refused the humiliation.
Seeing red, Perez and Sirotkin were completely immersed in their duel. They probably genuinely didn't see the frantically waving blue flags.
Things got tricky.
On the already narrow, crowded Singapore track, four cars were bunched up. Dirty air surged through the night.
While Verstappen cursed Perez and Sirotkin, Kai became the biggest victim of the dirty air.
Yet, Kai had no time for frustration. Instead, he admired Hamilton.
Timing!
Hamilton's decisive, ruthless move to pass the backmarkers was brilliantly timed. They were funneling into Turn 1, one of the narrowest sections. Even if the backmarkers saw the blue flags and yielded immediately, passing through the subsequent sequence of corners was difficult.
This meant Hamilton could seize the chance to pull away.
Experience and instinct. There was much to learn from Hamilton.
Look at Kai's current situation: trapped in turbulent air, bouncing constantly. The bumps of the Singapore track were clearer than ever. He had no room to pass. If his focus slipped for a second, he might crash out himself.
But!
The eternal truth in competitive sports: a crisis can also be an opportunity.
If Kai was struggling in dirty air, Verstappen was definitely suffering too. Ferrari was weak in low-speed corners, but Red Bull's tires were likely overheating now.
The clash of strengths and weaknesses, complicated by backmarkers, created more variables. In times like this, calmness and patience were paramount.
Turn 1. Kai observed the three cars ahead. Perez was glued to Sirotkin's gearbox—bumper-to-bumper, impenetrable. No chance to pass.
Turn 2. Verstappen forced the issue, tucking behind Sirotkin to pull alongside Perez. But Perez was crafty. He cut inside, blocking the line and forcing Verstappen back.
Verstappen had to slam on the brakes. Kai, right behind, suffered the consequences. A puff of white smoke, and the chaotic scene became even harder to see.
Entering Turn 3, the atrocious mid-corner rhythm of the Williams was exposed. Sirotkin's line was clearly out of control.
On one hand, this exposed a weakness.
On the other hand, it compressed the pack further.
In the chaos, Perez didn't hesitate. He attacked around the outside.
Sirotkin panicked. The rookie forgot about the rules and instinctively tried to block the line and close the door. But his steering input was inaccurate. He jerked the wheel too far left—and suddenly, a gap opened on the right.
Verstappen didn't hesitate. He dove for the gap.
However, the dominoes fell. A chain reaction began.
Sirotkin squeezed too far left. His rear wing clipped Perez's front wing. Carbon fiber flew.
The debris hit Verstappen, shattering into a shower of smaller pieces.
The little train of cars crowded chaotically into Turn 4. Rhythm—steering, braking, throttle—was completely shattered. In that split second, there was no time to judge or think. Pure instinct guided them through the hail of bullets, searching for a lifeline.
But where was the lifeline? Who would find it? What chain reaction would it cause? No one knew.
Kai, at the back of the train, suddenly had the clearest view of the entire field. Exiting Turn 4, the view opened up.
The short straight led to the 90-degree right-hander of Turn 5. The right side was the standard racing line. The left side—the dirty side—was visibly covered in dust, debris, and dark, damp patches.
Currently, Perez and Sirotkin were tangled on the right. Verstappen was in the middle-right. The entire track was heavily biased to one side.
The straight ahead wasn't the widest part of the track. Waiting for the long straight after Turn 5 might seem safer, but the opportunity wouldn't be as good as right now.
No hesitation! Decisive action!
Kai steered left, broke from the train, pinned the throttle, and entered the dirty side. Amidst the engine roar, he rapidly pulled alongside Verstappen.
Verstappen was searching for a way out of the chaos. Though he had matured over the past few months, he hadn't fully shed his youthful impatience. Surrounded on all sides, he failed to cover all his bases. Only when Kai pulled alongside did Verstappen realize he had forgotten his mirrors.
It takes a long time to describe, but it all happened in two seconds. Turn 5 was rapidly approaching.
Extreme late braking!
In a flash, both Car 22 and Car 33 displayed their explosive ability to survive in the cracks. Both pushed their braking points to the absolute limit, determined to devour the 90-degree corner.
Even on the dirty side, with significantly less grip, Kai again showed absolute car control. He ran side-by-side with Verstappen, refusing to yield an inch. He hugged Verstappen's sidepod, gritting his teeth through the corner, matching the Red Bull's rhythm!
Incredibly, Verstappen used his inside advantage to stay half a car length ahead. The two cars entered Turn 5 wheel-to-wheel. Their steering and braking coordination was art. They shoved Perez back and rapidly closed on Sirotkin!
Exit, throttle, straight!
Seamless!
But Verstappen instantly sensed danger. Another crisis! Sirotkin's line wobbled off track, his car half-blocking Verstappen's path.
Verstappen: Huh?
This time, Verstappen didn't even have time to curse. The engine roar on his left crashed over him like a tidal wave. The bright Ferrari red of Car 22 roared past on the dirty left side.
"FUCK!"
Verstappen lost control of his anger, screaming into the radio.
"Perez and Sirotkin are tangled! They clearly haven't noticed the lapping cars behind them!"
"Collision!"
"Perez and Sirotkin collide! Verstappen tries to seize the chance to pass! Kai doesn't miss the opportunity either, both cars follow closely!"
"Turn 5!"
"Inside! Extreme late braking! Verstappen withstands the impact!"
"Sirotkin blocks the line! God, Verstappen's path is blocked! Kai passes around the outside! He laps Sirotkin and overtakes Verstappen in one fell swoop!"
"Kai moves up to P2!"
"Jesus Christ, what are we witnessing?!"
Chaos! Collective madness!
Gasps, screams, praise, and jumping erupted simultaneously. The brutal, close-quarters combat, followed by a lone warrior charging out of the melee.
That flash of Ferrari red instantly ignited the Singapore night. The commentary box shook as if caught in a storm. No one could believe their eyes.
Then, they witnessed the aftermath. Perez suffered a left front puncture and had to pit again. Tonight was an utter disaster for Force India.
Sirotkin was handed a 5-second penalty by the FIA for ignoring blue flags and blocking.
"...Five seconds?! What kind of stupid joke is this?! That idiot ruined my race, and he only gets five seconds?! Mercedes must have paid off the FIA..."
Verstappen was furious, speaking without a filter. Horner immediately cut him off on the radio. "Max, focus on the race! We still have a chance!"
Horner understood Verstappen's frustration. Because of Sirotkin, not only did Kai pass him, but the gap had opened to 1.3 seconds. Verstappen saying his race was ruined by Sirotkin was completely valid. The FIA's 5-second penalty was indeed a joke.
Red Bull would protest, undoubtedly. But the radio was broadcast to the FIA. Horner didn't want Verstappen saying the wrong thing and getting fined after the race.
More importantly, Wolff was equally unhappy. The Perez-Sirotkin tangle allowed Kai to pass Verstappen. Hamilton's natural buffer was gone. While both young drivers were threats, Kai, with his tire advantage, was a direct, immediate threat to Hamilton.
"Fuck! Those two idiots! Blue flags! Can't they see the blue flags?! I didn't know colorblind people were allowed in F1!" Wolff swore loudly, a rare break in his composure.
From P15 to P2. And in Singapore. The shock and pressure Kai brought were truly terrifying.
Obviously, this wasn't the end. Kai wouldn't stop here. Having fought this far, he had no reason to halt his pursuit.
And indeed, he didn't.
Amidst the stormy seas, Pierre suppressed his boiling blood. "Kai, 2.7 seconds."
"Wow," Kai marveled. "Looks like Mercedes still has life in their tires. Hamilton opened that gap quickly."
During the brief tangle, Hamilton seized the opportunity perfectly, controlling the pace effortlessly. He broke the DRS gap instantly, not only escaping but shifting all the pressure behind him. No matter who chased him, it wouldn't be easy. The cars were getting hotter—tires, brakes, engines.
The drivers were losing massive amounts of fluids. The hot, humid air challenged their physical limits in this high-pressure duel.
The later the race went, the harder it was to chase and overtake.
It wasn't just the drivers; the pit wall was feeling it too. Pierre stared intently at the car's telemetry. The Ferrari still wasn't perfectly tuned. In absolute terms, they were slower than both Mercedes and Red Bull. If they wanted to go further, they had zero margin for error.
His heart pounded against his chest until it ached. He had held the same posture for so long his joints were stiff and sore.
If it was this bad sitting on the pit wall, what was it like for Kai in the cockpit?
As expected, to avoid upsetting the car's balance amidst the overheating risks, Kai's pursuit of Hamilton slowed. Over the next 3 to 5 laps, the gaps between Hamilton and Kai, and Kai and Verstappen, shrank only slightly.
This proved the brilliance of Hamilton's rapid overtake of the backmarkers and his sudden burst of pace to open the gap. He had transferred the physical, mental, and mechanical strain entirely onto his pursuers. In F1, these tiny margins often dictate the flow and ultimate outcome of a race.
Then, Kai started making minor mistakes.
Kai wasn't superman. He made mistakes too. Racing in Singapore for the first time, driving flat-out for 90 minutes in this brutal environment, keeping his focus laser-sharp while chasing on track and calculating strategy off it... the invisible toll was unimaginable.
Minor errors were inevitable. Hamilton and Verstappen made them too.
Pierre didn't overreact.
But as the mistakes piled up, Pierre grew anxious, sweating as if he were in the cockpit with Kai.
At Turn 10, Kai braked slightly too late. Car 22 almost grazed the outside wall. Pierre held his breath. The "Singapore Sling." The most dangerous spot on the track. 30% of all crashes happen here.
Kai had literally brushed past the gates of hell. Pierre forced himself to stay calm. "Kai, hydrate. You need to drink a lot of water."
"Yeah, I know, but the drink system failed. I can't drink," Kai said, his tone light. "I didn't make a mistake at Turn 10, the brakes just overheated. Delayed reaction, couldn't adjust in time. I'll be careful. Can't play with fire, right?"
Pierre was in no mood for jokes. "What?! When?! Why didn't you report it?! Damn it!"
In Singapore?! No water?!
Fuck!
Pierre couldn't help but curse under his breath.
"Five laps ago? Six? I'm not sure," Kai remained calm. "Pierre, relax. A broken drink system can't be fixed now anyway. Or are you planning to stand on the pit wall and throw a can of Red Bull at me like in Mario Kart?"
"I need you to stay focused. We are closing in on Hamilton. The final battle is approaching."
Pierre took a deep breath, finally managing a joke. "Looks like someone is determined to win. I need to keep up with the pace."
He instinctively clenched his fists, finding his palms soaked.
No wonder Kai had made more mistakes in the last few laps. Though not fatal, his lap time consistency was fluctuating.
Knowing Kai, Pierre knew this wasn't normal. Now he had the answer: the damn drink system! Kai must feel like he was sprinting in a 60-degree Celsius sauna. His brain couldn't function properly, yet he still had to navigate Singapore's endless corners.
Lap 46. 15 laps to go! Why did this race feel like it would never end?!
Pierre's throat felt dry. The Devil's Crucible truly lived up to its name.
It wasn't just Pierre. In the Garage 22, the hot air seemed to solidify. They all knew about Kai's drink system.
Without a doubt, this was the most severe test of Kai's career.
It was cruel. He was burning his life force to keep racing.
Jock Clear could hardly bear to watch, turning his head away. He even thought that second place was incredible enough. From P15 to P2 in Singapore—it was a drive for the history books. They had a hundred reasons to leave Singapore with their heads held high.
But Laurent Mekies didn't look away. He straightened his back. "Kai will fight to the end. Missing the win is fine, but we must fight proudly to the last second."
"Keep fighting until we burn out completely."
Muttering to himself, comforting himself and boosting his own morale, Mekies forced himself to stand tall, fighting side-by-side with Kai.
Nine months wasn't enough to fully know someone. Mekies and Kai weren't close friends yet. But Mekies knew Kai the driver. He knew his calmness, his resilience, his tenacity. He never gave up.
The harder it got, the firmer his resolve. He met the storm with immense pride.
Beside him, Clear noticed. Emotions churned in his chest. He also stood up straight, forcing himself to watch the screen.
If Kai was still fighting, how could he surrender?
However, it wasn't easy. You can't just shout slogans and inject chicken blood to get through this.
The entire Singapore circuit was a steamer. Heat rising, humidity falling, trapping the drivers, draining every drop of energy from their bodies, seeking out every last reserve hiding in their limbs and blood vessels. They were being hollowed out step by step.
It was obvious that Kai wasn't the only one suffering. The other drivers were making mistakes too.
In the crucible, no one is exempt. Here, experience shone. Hamilton had won here three times and had never missed a Singapore Grand Prix. Under high heat and pressure, his composure played a vital role, showcasing the class of a four-time champion.
One lap. Another lap. Kai couldn't close the gap and enter Hamilton's DRS. In fact, the gap widened slightly.
It was torment. It was a test. Any major mistake could be fatal. Until the checkered flag, anything was possible.
Then, Lap 48. An accident broke the balance.
"Perez!"
"Force India's nightmare continues!"
"Tonight is an absolute disaster for Force India! After Ocon, Perez couldn't handle the pressure. He's in the wall and out of the race!"
Bang!
Loss of control! Impact! Wall! Debris everywhere!
Perez crashed out at the Turn 10 "Singapore Sling." Safety Car deployed!
Gasps and shock erupted.
Pierre froze, goosebumps shooting from his feet to his scalp. He held his breath. "Kai, Safety Car. Safety Car!"
Actually, Kai's consciousness was slightly blurred at that moment. His brain, wrapped in a heatwave, had turned to mush, ready to explode at any moment. Staying focused and calm was not easy.
But the Safety Car was like a ray of light. His mind cleared instantly. His sluggish brain spun into high gear.
"Which corner?" Kai asked immediately.
"Turn 10."
"..." Pause. Breathe. "The Monza Trick!"
On the radio, Pierre's heart surged, almost bursting. His scalp tingled. The Monza Trick. It was their inside joke, self-deprecating humor referring to Mercedes' fake pit stop that they had blindly fallen for, like a rabbit jumping into a snare.
Kai, realizing Pierre was probably blaming himself, used the joke to lighten the mood and remind them not to act impulsively. They needed to stay calm.
But by mentioning the Monza Trick now... did that mean Ferrari was going to copy Mercedes' bluff?
Undoubtedly, it was a massive gamble.
From Kai's perspective, he still had a tire advantage. He didn't need to pit. Pitting might lose him track position, destroying everything he'd built.
But precisely because of that, Mercedes and Red Bull wouldn't be able to predict Kai's true intentions.
Suddenly, Hamilton was in an awkward position.
If Hamilton pitted, he would get fresh tires. But if Kai and Verstappen stayed out, Hamilton would drop behind Vettel. With only 13 laps left, catching back up would be impossible.
If Hamilton stayed out, Kai could pit for fresh tires and push flat out. Hamilton's 30-lap-old Softs wouldn't survive, even on the Singapore circuit.
Caught between a rock and a hard place!
Of course, it wasn't that simple, because Verstappen was lurking just two seconds behind Kai.
If Kai pitted, but Verstappen, Vettel, and Bottas stayed out, Kai would surrender all the positions he had fought so hard to gain.
Based on their current positions, if only Kai pitted, he would 100% come out behind Verstappen. His position relative to Vettel depended on the Ferrari pit crew's efficiency and traffic. If everything went perfectly, Kai could squeeze out ahead of Vettel. But any delay, and he'd fall behind Vettel, or even Bottas.
The strategy couldn't just focus on Kai. The gaps between the leaders were small. They were interlocked in a complex web. One wrong move, and they'd lose the position entirely. A failed attempt to steal a chicken costs the rice.
So, the "Monza Trick" wasn't just risky; it was downright insane.
Yet, Pierre understood Kai's meaning.
They had to disrupt the order. If they played it safe and followed the script, they wouldn't create an opportunity in Singapore.
The past few laps proved it. Hamilton had a firm grip on the lead, offering no chances.
If there were no incidents, Kai could accept this result. P2 was already far beyond expectations. He would have no regrets.
But an incident had occurred. If he didn't gamble for the win now, Kai would regret it. He wouldn't have challenged his own limits.
Even if the price was losing P2. After all, this is F1. You can't have your cake and eat it too. They had to gamble.
With one phrase, Pierre understood.
He thought he was calm, used to everything. But his ankles and knees felt weak, and his tightly clenched knuckles ached.
There was no time to hesitate. Pierre turned to Arrivabene.
Arrivabene was shocked. He thought he was crazy enough, but the real madman was out on the track.
Should he refuse?
Instinctively, Arrivabene wanted to say no. Whatever Kai suggested, just reject it. But on second thought, he reconsidered.
If the strategy failed, the worst-case scenario was Kai losing the podium. But it would still be a successful race, and the blame for losing the podium would fall squarely on Kai's shoulders.
But if it succeeded?
Win or lose, Arrivabene lost nothing, and he could showcase his boldness as Team Principal.
Arrivabene looked deeply at Pierre. "Box! Ultrasofts!"
Pierre ignored Arrivabene's calculations. As long as the Team Principal didn't create obstacles, that was fine. But Pierre had to do his job.
"Hyper Softs! Pink! Pink!"
The radio exploded—
Garage 22 sprang to life. The mechanics, tense and anxious all night, were fired up, working in silent, focused fury.
A scene of busy but organized chaos.
The pit boxes on either side were stunned. They couldn't believe their eyes. What the hell was Ferrari doing?!
~~----------------------
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