F1: The Speed Legend

Formula 1 is losing its edge. It’s becoming increasingly boring, increasingly sanitized, and increasingly mediocre. This wasn’t just a criticism from angry fans; it had become a widespread consensus.

In the turbo-hybrid era, an ever-expanding web of regulations—from stringent safety measures to complex tire rules and highly restrictive aerodynamic guidelines—had drastically shifted the sport’s balance of power. The performance of the machinery was now the overwhelmingly dominant factor. Having a ”rocket ship” of a car was the absolute key to winning a championship, while the influence of the driver was continuously being eroded.

In this environment, relying on a driver’s individual brilliance to overcome a car’s deficiencies, or to single-handedly turn the tide of a battle, was becoming increasingly difficult. It was bordering on an impossible mission.

This was true for Red Bull’s four consecutive championships, and it remained true for Mercedes’ five-year reign of terror. The fastest car on the grid won the title. Meanwhile, some of the most talented drivers in the paddock faded into obscurity, unable to fight at the front. It was no wonder Fernando Alonso had spent years bouncing between teams, desperately hoping to finally land a rocket ship of his own.

Currently, Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton were both four-time World Champions, yet their historical standing didn’t quite seem to match those lofty numbers.

They weren’t spoken of with the same reverence as legends like Alain Prost or Niki Lauda, let alone touching the untouchable pantheons of Ayrton Senna and Michael Schumacher. As time went on, this sentiment deepened across the motorsport world. From the top executives down to the casual fans, everyone seemed to believe that F1’s most thrilling, dangerous, and purely insane era was dead and gone.

Until now.

The 2018 season wasn’t just the year Kai achieved unprecedented glory; it was the year that completely shattered the paddock’s stagnant mindset.

Just like those legends of the past, Kai had piloted the second—or arguably third—fastest car on the grid to a Drivers’ World Championship. He had put the sheer talent and ability of the driver on full, glorious display. Did this mean that other exceptionally gifted young drivers, like Max Verstappen or Charles Leclerc, also possessed the potential to transcend their machinery?

This was the true miracle of 2018. It was even more mind-bending than a rookie winning the title in his debut season. Overnight, Kai had resurrected dead memories, awakening the brilliance and fierce, gladiatorial spirit of the 80s and 90s, where multiple teams and drivers fought tooth and nail for glory. Yes, a rocket ship was incredibly important, but a truly transcendent driver still possessed the power to flip the board and showcase the raw, visceral magic of Formula 1.

The machine is the foundation, but the driver is the soul.

No matter how advanced the engineering becomes, at its core, F1 is a human sport. The drivers are the true spectacle.

The entire paddock had believed that era was gone forever. Yet, Kai’s meteoric rise had sparked it back to life from the ashes. The sheer impact and shock of this realization defied description. It was a truth so undeniable that the frantic slander and vitriol from hardcore Mercedes and Hamilton fans couldn’t even put a dent in it.

To the casual observer tuning in for the first time, it might have seemed like Kai’s massive wave of support was simply because he won the championship. If that were true, then the vocal doubts from the Mercedes camp would be entirely justified—they simply refused to accept the final result. But true, hardcore motorsport fans knew it was far more complex than that.

The championship was the result; the journey was where the true brilliance lay.

Awe! Admiration! Absolute astonishment!

The deafening roar of complaints from rivals and haters paradoxically unified the neutral fans and casual onlookers even more, making them acutely aware of just how extraordinary Kai’s performance had been.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the Drivers’ World Championship rightfully belonged to Kai.

He had utterly dominated Vettel internally at Ferrari. He had relentlessly pressured Hamilton across the entire paddock. In direct, wheel-to-wheel combat, he had defeated his rivals cleanly and honorably. From every conceivable angle, he had earned that trophy! The 2018 season was a rare, absolute pinnacle of racing, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in a full decade!

Kai’s coronation was reawakening the dormant passion and boiling blood of countless fans. The impact far exceeded the weight of a single championship trophy.

However, objectively speaking, while Kai absolutely deserved the title, one couldn’t deny the highly improbable sequence of events that unfolded at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

The consecutive retirements of Esteban Ocon and Pierre Gasly, triggering the safety car, had undeniably altered the tactical landscape of the race. If that hadn’t happened, and Kai had been forced to push his aging hard tires to the absolute limit to hunt Hamilton down in the dying laps, the outcome would have been entirely unpredictable. Perhaps Kai would have still won; perhaps Hamilton would have defended his crown. But without the massive advantage of fresh soft tires, Hamilton wouldn’t have been entirely defenseless. The ending would have been fraught with multiple possibilities.

After such an agonizingly long, fiercely contested season, losing a championship that seemed practically secured in such a frustrating, circumstantial manner undeniably left behind a massive sense of regret. It was a bitter pill to swallow. The ensuing madness from Mercedes and Hamilton fans was, to some extent, understandable.

Consequently, social media platforms devolved into warzones. Fanatical supporters, having completely lost their minds, lashed out with hysterical fury. They seemed determined to drag everyone else down into the mud with them, wanting the entire world to rot and fester in their dark abyss of disappointment. If they were miserable, no one else was allowed a moment’s peace.

Clearly, Kai wasn’t an easy target to bully. The Tifosi, the massive army of Chinese netizens, the fans celebrating the end of Mercedes’ dominance, and even casual bystanders all leaped to his defense. If the haters attacked Kai once, they were instantly met with ten—or even a hundred—times the backlash.

Despite the Mercedes and Hamilton fans rolling up their sleeves, fully prepared to wage a scorched-earth war for their driver, the massive silver army eventually realized their misplaced rage needed a softer target. They found one—

Esteban Ocon.

The young driver—isolated, lacking a powerful background, devoid of major corporate backing, devoid of significant sponsors, and now even stripped of his seat in the paddock—became the sacrificial lamb for the fanatical mob. They had finally found their scapegoat, dumping all their toxic negativity and rage squarely onto his shoulders.

Compared to Sergio Perez, Ocon was an incredibly easy target. It felt like any passing fan could stomp on him twice without facing any consequences.

And so they did!

An overwhelming, vicious torrent of accusations and abuse rained down on him like a torrential summer storm.

And it wasn’t just Ocon. His parents, his girlfriend, his friends, and even his neighbors became targets of this deranged witch hunt.

The scent of blood in the air morphed into a brutal, howling tempest.

Ocon was utterly defenseless. He had no voice. Even if he tried to fight back, no one cared. Any response or reaction from him only served to excite the haters further. This massive, coordinated cyber-bullying campaign plunged Ocon into an unprecedented crisis.

In response, Kai—who hadn’t posted on his social media platforms for an entire year—finally logged on. He didn’t write a lengthy essay or a PR statement. He posted exactly one word.

”Cowards.”

No context. No names. Not even a shred of explanation. Just a single word. Yet, it instantly crashed major social media platforms.

Some speculated he was cursing Ocon. Others claimed he was calling out Hamilton. Still others theorized he was using it as leverage in his contract negotiations with Ferrari.

Beyond that, the wild theories dragged Mercedes, Christian Horner, Zak Brown, Max Verstappen, and even Sebastian Vettel into the mix. Standing at the absolute apex of global attention, a single word from Kai was enough to trigger a tsunami, especially during such a sensitive period.

But anyone who took a second to actually think about it knew exactly who Kai was targeting: the irrational, rabid fanbase of Mercedes and Hamilton.

Ocon’s retirement was due to a power unit failure. For a driver literally fighting for his career and his livelihood, that DNF was a devastating blow. Yet, instead of sympathy, he was branded a traitor and universally condemned, forced to endure a nightmare he didn’t deserve.

Kai was calling the fans bullying Ocon cowards. They were terrified to attack Kai directly, so they targeted someone weaker. He was also calling Hamilton and Mercedes cowards. They refused to face their defeat with dignity, refused to confront the madness of their own fanbase, and refused to step up and stop the deranged cyber-bullying campaign being carried out in their name.

”...Kai, that post you made on social media, who exactly was it directed at?”

”Heh. Whoever got triggered by it, that’s exactly who it was directed at. Cowards are always paranoid, convinced the whole world is out to get them. But the pathetic part is, they don’t even have the guts to confront their ’enemies’ directly. Instead, they take twisted, roundabout paths to hurt bystanders, targeting people weaker than themselves.”

Condemned by thousands, trapped in a nightmare, Ocon had been sucked into the storm entirely alone. It was a heavyweight clash between Mercedes and Ferrari, yet the innocent Ocon had been offered up as a sacrifice.

The paddock remained as cold-blooded and ruthless as ever. Because Ocon had lost his seat, the establishment chose to ignore the situation, treating the abuse and pressure as acceptable collateral damage. No one could have predicted that among all the drivers and powerful team principals, it would be Kai—a rookie—who stepped up to say something fair.

Since his meteoric rise in GP3, the spotlight on Kai had been intensifying constantly. His follower counts on Weibo, X (Twitter), and Instagram had skyrocketed, placing him at the center of the world overnight. After securing the World Championship in Abu Dhabi, that energy fully detonated. Even people with zero interest in F1 were repeatedly hearing the legendary story of Kai. This massive cultural crossover was directly reflected in his follower metrics.

They were surging exponentially!

Bolstered by his massive foundation on Weibo, Kai had already surpassed Hamilton to become the most-followed driver across all major social media platforms combined. Even looking strictly at Western platforms, Kai was rocketing upward, closing the gap on Hamilton and currently sitting comfortably in second place.

Yet, throughout this massive surge in popularity, Kai had remained intensely cool and low-profile. He hadn’t posted a single update or photo on any platform, maintaining a strict aura of mystery and focusing solely on his racing. Even after his monumental victory at Yas Marina, his accounts remained completely silent.

The result?

His very first post across all platforms in two years wasn’t a celebration or a sponsor plug. It was a stand for justice, drawing his sword to defend someone being bullied.

The impact was entirely predictable. It unleashed a tidal wave across all major social media platforms, generating an unbelievable surge of energy that temporarily crashed servers worldwide.

In a telephone interview with The Times, Kai addressed the post directly. Instead of dialing it back, he doubled down, pouring gasoline on the fire and escalating the situation further.

Even though Kai hadn’t explicitly named anyone, the guilty parties naturally outed themselves. Furious that they had been called out, they exploded in rage, hurling insults and further fueling the inferno.

That small faction of rabid fans completely lost whatever remained of their minds. Since Kai was calling them out for lacking the guts to attack him directly, they happily obliged. They turned all their guns and artillery squarely onto Kai. For a brief period, social media devolved into a toxic, polluted swamp of vile, unspeakable insults.

And then, Sky Sports dropped a bombshell that instantly silenced the social media tsunami. The internet fell so quiet it was terrifying—

For the 2019 season, Esteban Ocon would remain in the paddock as the official reserve driver for Mercedes-Benz.

Uh. Well.

The haters were collectively dumbfounded, their brains completely short-circuiting. What were they supposed to do with this mess now?

People suddenly remembered a crucial detail: Esteban Ocon’s manager was Toto Wolff.

So, by relentlessly attacking Ocon, weren’t they essentially accusing Toto Wolff of being a traitor who orchestrated the sabotage of his own team? Well, this was awkward. The floodwaters had washed away the dragon king’s temple.

The mob had played themselves. Every vicious attack they had launched acted like a boomerang, spinning right back to smack them squarely in the face. The sound of the collective slap was deafening.

What now? It was an emergency. They needed instructions immediately.

But it wasn’t just the irrational fans hearing that ringing slap—Toto Wolff heard it too.

Kai had willingly broken his two-year social media silence to stand up for Ocon, sacrificing himself to draw the aggro and pull the entire mob’s hatred onto his own shoulders.

But what about Wolff?

As Ocon’s manager, Wolff had remained completely invisible. He kept his mouth tightly shut, abandoning Ocon in purgatory. It appeared he was using his silence as a twisted display of loyalty to the Mercedes board of directors and their most fanatical supporters.

And it went deeper than that.

As the Team Principal of Mercedes—and a key player who had indirectly facilitated Force India’s administration and Lawrence Stroll’s subsequent takeover—Wolff knew better than anyone in the paddock whether Force India had secretly colluded with Ferrari to rig the championship.

The answer was a definitive no.

Those fabricated smears lacked any evidence, root, or logic. It was pure, unadulterated nonsense.

Yet, Wolff hadn’t issued a single clarification. He hadn’t saved Ocon, and he hadn’t defended Force India. On the contrary, he had allowed the negative narratives to expand unchecked.

Why?

If someone claimed Wolff wasn’t using the situation to deflect attention, shift blame, relieve the pressure on himself, and orchestrate his own political survival... well, Kai would be the first to call them a liar.

Kai didn’t know the exact details, but he could easily imagine the scenario. Watching the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix—a race they firmly believed was in the bag—slowly slip through their fingers was devastating. Even though Mercedes had secured the Constructors’ Championship, having the Drivers’ title snatched from their jaws was undeniably humiliating.

Even a political mastermind like Wolff couldn’t escape the crushing pressure of that failure.

So, Wolff allowed the smears to burn out of control. On one hand, it kept Ferrari under siege; on the other, it alleviated the intense scrutiny on his own leadership.

And Ocon simply became the sacrificial lamb.

Kai’s use of the word ”Cowards” wasn’t just aimed at the fans; it was absolutely intended to rip the mask off Toto Wolff.

Clearly, the brilliant Wolff had caught the implication. And so, he finally spoke up.

If he was going to break his silence, he had to do it definitively. Wolff wasn’t going to let his or Mercedes’ PR image suffer any further damage.

Subsequently, Mercedes released a further statement declaring their absolute belief in Ocon’s abilities. They announced that Ocon would be fully integrated into the development of their 2020 car, embedding himself within the technical team and becoming a core component of the championship squad.

This statement carried two layers of profound meaning.

The first was officially securing Ocon’s position and value within the organization.

The second was a declaration of war. Mercedes-Benz would not be easily broken. They weren’t just prepared for the battles of the 2019 season; they already had their sights firmly locked on 2020. As the reigning Constructors’ Champions, they remained the ultimate target everyone in the paddock was desperate to defeat. They were still standing at the absolute pinnacle of the sport.

Armed with conviction and resolve, Mercedes played it brilliantly. Wolff seized the crisis, weaponized it to reshape their PR narrative, and instantly reversed the momentum.

The world suddenly went quiet.

While the fierce debates regarding the Kai vs. Hamilton championship battle—the on-track clashes, the safety car controversies—continued to boil on social media, the core narrative remained: Kai had defeated Hamilton as a rookie and completely upended the established hierarchy of the paddock. Those shockwaves weren’t going to settle anytime soon.

It was already crystal clear that the next season was going to be absolutely spectacular. It was highly anticipated.

However, while the amateurs watched the spectacle, the experts watched the technique.

Unlike the casual fans and internet trolls, the professionals within the paddock had long since been won over. Kai’s raw talent and sheer audacity were undeniably visible to the naked eye. He was truly a once-in-a-decade, generational genius. If Ferrari didn’t know how to cherish him, rival teams were more than happy to welcome him with open arms.

The longer Ferrari dragged out Kai’s contract extension negotiations, the more their competitors rejoiced. It gave them a wider window to maneuver.

This absolutely included Mercedes. Don’t be fooled by the open and covert sparring between Kai and Wolff; Wolff would never pass up an opportunity to sign Kai if the door opened even a crack.

That was the sheer weight Kai currently held within the paddock.

Clearly, Ferrari understood this perfectly. Feeling the acute sting of the crisis, they had recalled Kai to Maranello early, citing the need for ”preliminary preparations for the new season.” But everyone knew that was just an excuse. Kai was rapidly evolving into a force within the paddock that could not be ignored.

The chaos and instability that had plagued the team since Marchionne’s death needed to end. Now.

Returning to Maranello was one thing; the fact that it was still the off-season was another. Kai was traveling light, looking remarkably relaxed.

Coincidentally, Kai still hadn’t gotten his actual driver’s license. Having finally found some free time, he specifically went to take the test, officially securing his legal right to drive on public roads.

This was an open secret in Maranello. The locals constantly joked about the absurdity of a Formula 1 World Champion not possessing a basic driver’s license. It was almost certainly a first in the history of the sport.

The very first order of business after securing the license was purchasing his first personal car.

However, Kai didn’t even have time to visit a dealership for test drives. Ferrari seemed to have anticipated this. They led Kai directly into their private collection, throwing open the doors to a literal treasure trove and telling him to take his pick.

It wasn’t a gift, nor was Kai buying it. It was a ”loan.” Ferrari permitted Kai to ”temporarily” use any car he wanted while staying in Maranello and Monaco.

Technically, Kai’s contract didn’t restrict what brand of car he drove in his private life. This was standard across most teams; drivers were generally free to choose their personal vehicles. But the current timing was incredibly sensitive. Not only was Ferrari in the middle of intense contract negotiations with Kai, but he had just led them back to the summit of the motorsport world. If Kai got his driver’s license and his very first personal car turned out to be a Mercedes-Benz?

No, no, no. That would be an unmitigated PR disaster.

To avoid such a tragedy, Ferrari very generously opened their vault to him.

And that led directly to the current scene—

The 250 GTO.

Using a legendary, priceless vintage race car as a daily commuter immediately made him the center of attention in Maranello.

”Hey, Kai! Morning!”

”Kai, did you eat one breakfast or two today?”

”Well, well, well, the Prince of Ferrari has arrived!”

The teasing, jokes, and warm greetings were endless. Every staff member he passed rushed over to say hello. Even those standing far away sprinted over just to get a high-five. The bright laughter was brimming with genuine happiness and joy. The entire base was practically buzzing with a festive atmosphere.

Entering the facility, Kai didn’t head straight for John Elkann’s office. Instead, he expertly navigated the familiar corridors, heading toward the place he knew best.

The architecture, the layout, the atmosphere—everything felt deeply familiar. Even the figure standing in front of the control console hadn’t changed. As always, his face was stony and severe, completely devoid of a smile. A single sideways glance from him was enough to make a small child burst into tears.

But don’t be mistaken; he definitely wasn’t the grim reaper.

”Good morning, Fernando. It looks like today’s training session isn’t quite meeting your expectations?”

The man standing there was Fernando Monfardini, the former technical director of the Ferrari Driver Academy, who was now officially the head of the entire youth program.

Hearing the voice, Monfardini turned around. His perpetually furrowed brow relaxed. Looking closely, one could catch a faint, gentle glow in his eyes. A subtle warmth of pride and emotion rippled in the depths of his pupils, though it was hidden so perfectly that you’d miss it if you weren’t paying close attention.

”Obviously. Compared to you, everything else seems a little lacking in surprises,” Monfardini replied, offering a rare, dry joke.

Kai spread his hands. ”What can I say? Geniuses aren’t exactly found on every street corner.”

The amusement in Monfardini’s eyes deepened. ”Indeed. Indeed.”

Sitting nearby with his helmet in his lap, Oliver Bearman looked like he had just seen a ghost. When had he ever seen Monfardini act like this?

If anyone else had dared to crack a joke like that, Monfardini would have skewered them with a look so icy it would freeze their blood. How was he suddenly acting so warm and friendly?

A second later, Bearman realized exactly who had just walked in. He instantly shot to his feet, snapping to attention. He stood as straight as a pine tree, puffing his chest out so far it practically touched the ceiling, his wildly hammering heart threatening to explode.

Monfardini noticed the commotion. It wasn’t just Bearman; the other young trainees had all simultaneously jumped to their feet.

Monfardini turned to them. ”Kids, this is Kai. Kai, these are the new seedlings here for the current trial camp.”

Kai tilted his chin slightly. ”It’s that time of year again, huh? They look a bit young, though. Shouldn’t they still be racing karts?”

Kai’s attention was drawn to a particularly small kid. He was incredibly skinny and frail-looking, with a head full of curly hair that looked entirely too large for his body, making him resemble a bobblehead. He was standing on his tiptoes, awkwardly trying to slide out of his chair. However, he was clutching a massive racing helmet, which made his movements clumsy. His right foot snagged on the leg of the chair, and he accidentally dropped the helmet.

”Ah!” the bobblehead yelped.

Clatter, clatter. The helmet rolled away, and the bobblehead chased frantically after it.

A smile touched Kai’s lips. He took a quick step forward and scooped the helmet up off the floor. The bobblehead’s eyes stayed locked on the helmet as it was lifted higher and higher. The tiny kid had to crane his neck all the way back to look up at the towering tree of a man in front of him. Losing his balance, he wobbled and stumbled a step backward.

Kai reached out quickly, catching the kid by the arm and steadying him.

”Hey, Kimi. We meet again.” Kai offered a warm greeting.

He remembered this tiny kid. They had briefly crossed paths at Monza. If he recalled correctly, his name was Andrea Kimi Antonelli.

Antonelli violently slapped both hands over his mouth, his eyes screaming with an excitement so intense he looked ready to pass out.

A sharp intake of breath echoed from behind them, followed by an awe-struck whisper. ”Kimi, he remembers you!”

Kai looked up and waved. ”Hey, Oliver, right?”

Bearman nodded so forcefully his head looked like it was about to fly off. His face was practically glowing with irrepressible joy. ”Ollie! You can just call me Ollie, Kai!”

”It’s great to see you guys again. So, you’re hoping to join Ferrari?” Kai’s simple question instantly kicked a hornet’s nest.

Screams and cheers erupted. Some kids started jumping up and down, some threw their hands high in the air, some yelled ”Yes!” repeatedly, while others just nodded furiously.

It was absolute chaos.

A broad smile broke across Kai’s face. ”I hope I keep seeing you guys around here.”

Whoosh. A wave of pure, fanatical heat washed over the room.

Kai wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead and looked at Monfardini. ”Youth really is something else. So much energy.”

Listening to Kai sound like an old veteran, the corner of Monfardini’s mouth twitched. ”Within the Ferrari Driver Academy, you are literally a legend. Your stories echo through every single corridor. And it’s not just these karting kids. F4, GP3—oh, excuse me, F3 starting next year—it’s exactly the same.”

”Over in GP3, Anthoine never stops talking about ’Kai did this’ and ’Kai did that.’ He’s recruited a massive army of admirers for you.”

Kai spread his hands defensively. ”I’m still alive, you know! How am I already a legend? Fernando, this isn’t good.”

Monfardini rolled his eyes, but he knew Kai loved to joke around, so he didn’t take it seriously.

Truthfully, none of them had anticipated this level of impact.

It wasn’t just Ferrari. Inside the youth academies of Mercedes, Renault, McLaren, and Red Bull, Kai had become an insurmountable benchmark—an entity everyone looked up to with awe.

Monfardini had heard that over at Red Bull, Helmut Marko’s favorite catchphrase was rapidly shifting from ”Look at what Max did” to ”Look at what that kid did.”

Even though Marko refused to use Kai’s name, everyone knew exactly who he was talking about. Unbelievably, Kai had achieved Voldemort status within the Red Bull academy—he was ”He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

And in the karting world, Kai’s status was purely mythological.

Monfardini shook his head slightly. ”I think it’s a good thing. You need to be pushed. You need stimulation. That’s the only way you’ll keep continuously breaking your own limits.”

Everyone else believed that winning the World Championship in his rookie season was Kai’s absolute limit—an unscalable peak. But Monfardini knew that wasn’t true.

From stumbling out of illegal street races into GP3, jumping three tiers straight into F1 in a single year, and then forcibly seizing the World Championship just a year after that.

No matter who looked at it, his trajectory was an incomprehensible legend. He had exploded into global superstardom overnight, achieving an unprecedented level of success. It was a myth that was impossible to replicate, let alone surpass. It was no wonder every kid and young driver in every academy looked up to him like a god.

However, Monfardini didn’t see it that way.

He had watched Kai drive the simulator for the very first time. He had watched Kai step into an F3 car and drive on a real circuit for the very first time.

And, of course, he had personally witnessed Kai’s first GP3 race, and his first F1 race.

He had seen the terrifying speed of Kai’s growth and evolution firsthand. Because of that, he knew Kai still hadn’t tapped into his full potential. The 2018 season was merely the prologue.

He was more eager than anyone else to see what Kai would look like once he truly pushed his limits and shattered his current boundaries, achieving a legacy that was utterly untouchable.

While people were still busy comparing Kai to Senna and Schumacher, this young man, who had stumbled awkwardly into the paddock, was currently carving out an entirely unique path of his own. He was inheriting the mantle of Senna and Schumacher, but he was conquering a brand new frontier, exploring the absolute unknown.

Right now, every youth academy in the world viewed Kai as both the ultimate role model and the ultimate target to shoot down. To Monfardini, this was a fantastic development.

Kai had never shied away from a challenge or competition. On the contrary, he was the type of person who thrived on being challenged, using it as fuel to constantly improve and evolve. If things ever became too easy or lacked a challenge, he might simply lose interest.

If Kai were to brush his hands off, walk away from motorsport entirely, and seek out a completely different challenge in life, others might find it insane, but Monfardini wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Therefore, Monfardini had no intention of relieving the pressure on Kai. Instead, he planned to keep piling it on.

Just as expected, Kai smiled.

He waved his hand dismissively, his face bright. ”By the time they grow up and actually make it into the paddock, what’s that going to be? Five, ten years? I’ll have been retired for ages by then.”

The amusement returned to Monfardini’s eyes. ”Who knows? The next Kai might be hiding right in this room. Someone who breaks into the paddock at seventeen or eighteen. If that happens, it won’t be long at all.”

Kai considered this seriously. ”So, is this how Alonso feels looking at us? The guy was fighting for championships on track before we were even born.”

Pfft.

Monfardini couldn’t hold it back; he let out a short laugh. ”In the blink of an eye, you’re already the ’grandpa’ of the grid, getting ready to groom your own kids.”

The corner of Kai’s mouth twitched. ”Why does that sound incredibly weird when you say it?”

The amusement in Monfardini’s eyes only deepened.

A few days ago, Kai had called him to ask about the logistics of youth academies and mentioned his preliminary idea for building a karting track. This was Monfardini’s exact area of expertise. He not only answered all of Kai’s questions but offered a wealth of practical advice.

And, of course, he had immediately offered to help.

Ferrari had been aggressively trying to crack the Asian and Chinese markets for years. They were extremely eager to establish a youth academy outpost in China, but it was notoriously difficult to navigate. They had been endlessly evaluating and planning. If Kai could act as the vanguard and use this outpost to force the door open, Ferrari would back the project with both hands and both feet.

Even though the Kai standing in front of him still looked young and slightly green, Monfardini truly felt like a proud parent watching his child grow up.

Monfardini gestured toward the kids. ”When you get your very first batch of youth academy trainees, you are more than welcome to bring the team here for an evaluation.”

”Phew!” Kai let out an exaggeratedly long breath. ”Let’s hope that happens before my beard turns gray.”

The joke made the smile in Monfardini’s eyes flicker again.

Kai’s gaze drifted back to the energetic group of kids. ”So, what’s the verdict? Any promising prospects in this batch?”

”Mm. Actually, yes. There are a few very good seedlings,” Monfardini nodded slightly. ”It’s just...”

Kai looked back at him. ”Just what?”

”They’re too young,” Monfardini stated bluntly. ”Ollie is a bit better, he’s thirteen. But Kimi—that tiny kid—is only twelve. He still bounces and wobbles when he walks. He sprints everywhere recklessly and looks like he’s going to trip over his own feet at any second.”

”Kimi is Italian. His father is a massive Tifoso.”

Kai chuckled softly. ”Is there any Italian who isn’t?”

Monfardini turned to look at him. ”And yet, you still rejected Ferrari when you first started.”

Kai didn’t say a word. He just silently raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

Monfardini let out a light laugh and continued. ”He is undeniably a great prospect. He has raw speed and an incredibly sharp intuition for dynamic balance. However, he’s still far too green right now. He has a lot of flaws and bad habits, particularly regarding his on-track adaptability. His reaction time and ability to adjust to constantly changing conditions on the car and the track just aren’t there yet.”

”What about Ollie?” Kai asked.

”Calm. Don’t be fooled by how goofy and mischievous he acts off the track; his adaptability during a race is outstanding. The only slight disappointment is that he hasn’t fully unlocked his ability to extract the absolute maximum speed over a single push lap. But again, that’s comparing him to your standard. For his age group, he’s actually already standing out from the pack.” Monfardini’s assessment flowed smoothly, indicating he had observed them extensively.

Kai raised an eyebrow. ”Then just accept them into the academy and start training them. What’s the issue?”

During their karting years, kids often drove purely on instinct, relying entirely on raw talent. Whether that talent could be successfully refined, polished, and translated into continuous growth was always a massive unknown.

Overall, it was a brutal process of elimination. Nobody could look at a kid in a go-kart and definitively guarantee they were a generational genius.

Even universally recognized talents like Hamilton and Verstappen didn’t completely obliterate the competition and win every single race during their karting days.

Monfardini looked at Kai with mild exasperation, looking like a teacher annoyed that a student wasn’t paying attention.

Kai paused, then realized what he missed. ”Oh. The age. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Monfardini let out a soft breath. ”The Ferrari Driver Academy almost never recruits kids under the age of sixteen. The variables during the karting phase are simply too unpredictable.”

”Only Red Bull uses the ’catch ’em all’ method, scooping up everyone regardless of quality, throwing them into the academy, and letting them fight it out internally. It’s a brutal survival of the fittest, exactly like a Roman Colosseum. It’s a complete meat grinder.”

Kai shot him a confused look. If that was the case, then what were these kids doing here?

Monfardini read his expression. ”These kids are a special case. They came highly recommended through specific channels.”

”Oh.” Kai nodded knowingly. ”I thought Ferrari was against nepotism and backdoor favors.”

Monfardini glared at him. ”Do you think everyone is like you, casually ignoring an invitation from Ferrari?”

Kai wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. ”Fernando, there are millions of people around the world who love and worship Ferrari. You don’t need to add me to the list. Having one more doesn’t change anything, and missing one doesn’t matter either.”

Monfardini shook his head, his expression incredibly serious. ”You are exactly the only one who actually mattered.”

Kai laughed out loud. ”I hope the executives upstairs feel the same way.”

Monfardini paused, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. ”This year, primarily because of F1—and also F2—we’ve seen a massive influx of brilliant young rookies. The wind in the paddock is shifting. We’re actively reconsidering our strategy and debating whether we should start recruiting kids at fourteen or fifteen, grooming them during the transition from karts to F4 and F3.”

”We don’t have any experience doing that, so we put out some feelers to test the waters.”

”And here you go. These kids are the result.”