CYNTM CHAPTER 83

Business events and charity galas were like sipping a mediocre cup of English black tea for Vann Winston. He could appear courteous and gentlemanly, but in reality, he paid no attention to anyone.

The Ferrari charity gala was an assembly of the elite. Under bright lights, PR managers and marketing personnel mingled with current and potential sponsors, while Winston stood there, the most sophisticated billboard in the room.

Everyone at the gala was looking to gain something.

Maybe attention, maybe money, maybe connections.

A woman’s frustrated voice emerged from behind Winston.

“Hunter… why are you still on your phone?”

“Oh… and what should I be doing?”

A voice that hovered between youthful and mature responded, reminiscent of receiving a refreshing glass of water with a hint of lemon after a long night of drinking.

“Talk to the sponsors! Let them know who you are. You might get more endorsement deals. With your income from the Marcus team…”

“Hahaha… I haven’t even scored a single point. Who would want to offer me an endorsement deal?” The boy named Hunter laughed loudly.

His tone was casual, as if not scoring any points as a race car driver was completely normal.

There was no trace of self-pity in his demeanor, only an inexplicably appealing sense of calm.

Winston, holding a glass of wine, turned around.

The young man stood in an ill-fitted suit, brown hair falling over his forehead, making him look boyish in contrast to the older men in the room with their slicked-back hair.

From Winston’s angle, he could only see the tip of the young man’s nose. His hands moved deftly over his phone, fingers flicking as if maneuvering an F1 car. Winston tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression, but the young man never lifted his head.

“You can’t keep playing mobile games! Go socialize! You’re wasting a golden opportunity!”

“Alright, alright… tell me, which driver do you like? I’ll take you over… although I doubt any of them would want to talk to me.”

“You…” His female companion looked up and bumped his arm. “Hey! Hey! Vann Winston from the Ferrari team is looking at you!”

“Hmm?” Hunter still didn’t lift his head. “Dear Miley, he’s definitely looking at you, not me.”

Miley glanced back and saw that Winston’s gaze had already moved on. He was now listening to the Ferrari team’s PR manager. What had just happened was nothing more than an illusion.

The gala continued with its usual conversations and identical expressions. Winston was growing tired, though his face remained impassive.

Unapproachable.

The only anomaly was the young man leaning against the table, still engrossed in his phone as if existing in a world of his own.

What had caught Winston’s attention?

Perhaps it was boredom that prompted him to approach. He stood next to the young man and glanced at his phone, surprised to find that he was playing a match-3 game—one that even middle schoolers might find dull.

And he’d been playing it for over an hour.

What kind of person could be so captivated by such an outdated game?

Just as Winston was about to move on, the fire alarm blared through the hall.

Everyone looked up. Not even a second passed before someone shouted, “Fire!”

Women in long gowns lifted their skirts, men abandoned their glasses, and the crowd surged toward the exits.

“Don’t push!”

Winston froze and instinctively scanned the room. There was no smoke; the air still carried the mingling scents of champagne and wine.

Logic told him the alarm was likely a false trigger.

The exits were already clogged with panicked guests. Pushing through would be futile and could risk getting caught in a stampede.

The young man, previously absorbed in his game, finally lifted his head and glanced at the flashing fire alarm.

At last, Winston could see his eyes clearly. They held a hint of innocence, and with his head tilted back, he looked as if he were searching for something far above in the sky.

“Miley!”

Winston only felt his hand being pulled over by the other person, his hand held tightly as they charged into the crowd.

“Fire! We need to run!”

The young man propelled them forward without hesitation, and soon they were engulfed by the mass of people.

Winston could have easily broken free, but as he felt the warmth and strength of the other’s grip, he instinctively tightened his own fingers, their hands locking together.

He glanced at Hunter’s back. The young man could have slipped into the crowd, yet couldn’t fully blend in because he was holding onto him.

Just then, a woman’s voice roared from behind them, “Damn you, Evan Hunter! You left me behind to run by yourself!”

So, your name is Evan Hunter.

Winston mouthed the name silently to himself.

“What?” The young man finally realized something was wrong and struggled to turn his head, spotting Miley just a few people away, glaring at him with fury.

She raised her hand and flashed an unmistakable middle finger.

Winston expected Hunter to release his hand, so he loosened his grip. Instead, Hunter’s hold tightened as he pulled Winston forward even harder until he crashed into his chest.

“Oh…” Hunter’s eyes widened. “I’ve been dragging Ferrari’s Vann Winston along this whole time?”

Miley’s angry shouts pierced through the air, “Evan Hunter! We’re done! Completely done!”

Hunter sighed, muttering under his breath just loud enough for Winston to catch, “As if we ever really started…”

Winston wasn’t inclined to apologize. It had been Hunter who grabbed the wrong person, after all.

As the last guests exited, Winston felt a squeeze on his wrist. To his surprise, Hunter was still holding his hand.

But this time, Hunter’s pace had slowed.

Winston allowed himself to be led out of the crowd.

The night breeze swept over them as Hunter leaned against a streetlamp, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Flicking his lighter, the wind lifted his hair, making it drift as though it brushed across Winston’s gaze.

“You knew you grabbed the wrong person earlier. Why didn’t you let go?”

Winston’s voice was cool, with a sharp clarity to it.

After finally managing to light his cigarette, Hunter took a deep, contented drag with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he looked directly at Winston.

His eyes shone, giving Winston the sense that he could ignite the world with just a spark.

“Because Miley was already mad at me. Figured the least I could do was hold onto you a little longer to make up for it.” He grinned, extending the cigarette toward Winston. “Wanna smoke?”

“No, thanks.”

“Did you know your voice is nice to listen to? But it’s like it’s trapped in a bottle, sealed away,” Hunter said with a laugh.

Winston ignored the comment, pointing instead to the area around Hunter’s eyes.

“You’ve got dark circles.”

“Oh, this?” Hunter laughed with a careless air, leaning closer with a hint of pride. “Got beaten up by my teammate in the bathroom at the Spanish Grand Prix.”

“Why did he hit you?”

“Because I didn’t block Penny. He wanted me to help slow Penny down.”

“Did Penny lap you?”

“Why do you assume he lapped me? Can’t I have been ahead of him?” Hunter frowned, clearly displeased.

“If you hadn’t been lapped, you wouldn’t have been in a position to block Penny for your teammate. Penny’s grid position was ahead of yours, and you hadn’t overtaken him.”

“Fine, fine… Formula 1 is all about overtaking. Even if my team is weak, my skills are average, and my car is terrible… I don’t want to be just a roadblock for someone else. I want to overtake the cars in front of me, even if it’s just one.” Hunter smiled helplessly. “Isn’t that childish?”

“No.”

“Vann Winston really is a gentleman.”

“It’s not because I’m a gentleman. It’s because I feel the same way.”

At that moment, Winston’s assistant, Annie, called out.

“Oh my God, there you are! Mr. Miller has been looking for you!”

“Alright, I’ll be there right away.”

As Winston turned, he caught sight of Hunter stepping back and mouthing the word “Goodbye.”

A moment later, Hunter turned and walked away.

“Winston, were you just talking to that… guy? He looked like a racer too,” Annie asked, surprised.

“Mm.” Winston walked back to the banquet hall with her.

The next time Winston saw Hunter was at the next race. Starting from the back of the grid, Hunter clawed his way through the field to finish in sixth place.

That night, Winston reviewed the race in his room. His attention kept drifting toward the Marcus team’s car. Hunter’s racing lines and cornering were smooth and elegant. Winston rested his chin in his hand, eyes narrowing as he watched.

After finishing the race replay, Winston felt a bit hot and decided to take a walk near the hotel.

As he entered the lobby, he overheard Donald from the Sauber team laughing with his teammates.

“Hahaha! That silly kid Hunter! I took him to a bar today, and he hit on a pretty girl. Turns out the girl had a really fierce boyfriend. Hunter almost got himself beaten up!”

“No way! He couldn’t fight back?”

“The guy’s a rugby player!”

“Damn! That’s tough luck! Where is he now?”

“Smoking outside! Hahaha!”

Winston walked past Donald and headed outside.

The night air was cool. Though he told himself he was just going for a casual walk, Winston found himself searching the darkness for every faint red glow or figure that might be smoking.

Finally, he spotted Hunter sitting on the steps in the shadows.

Hunter’s frame lacked the masculine, muscular build typical of other racers. Instead, there was still a touch of youthful slenderness about him.

“You did great in the race today.” Winston sat down beside him.

“Really? I might crash and burn in the next one.”

Hunter’s voice was tinged with a self-deprecating laugh.

“You won’t.”

After a pause of several seconds, Hunter turned to Winston and chuckled. “Hey… is that how you comfort someone? Just ‘you won’t’? Usually, it’s followed by something like, ‘you’re amazing, you’ll beat so-and-so, one day you’ll be on Owen’s or Ciel’s level.’”

“I can’t predict who you’ll beat or if you’ll ever reach Owen’s or Ciel’s level. But I believe you won’t stop here,” Winston said calmly.

That calmness had a soothing effect on Hunter.

“You don’t seem like the type who comforts people,” Hunter said, smiling. “I bet no one would believe it if they knew you were talking to me.”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t want to talk to you?”

“Because you’re already a top driver, a genius who competes with Owen and Ciel. I’m just a backmarker who gets lucky and makes it into the top six once in a while.”

“Anything else?” Winston asked quietly.

“Well, you’re always cold, like you’re warning people to stay away as if no one can enter your world. You nod and move past billion-dollar sponsors as if they’re invisible, so why would you waste time on someone like me?” Hunter seemed more amused the longer he spoke.

“Any other reasons?”

“The media says you’re one of the last noble gentlemen in Formula 1. I’m neither noble nor gentlemanly, so we’re worlds apart.”

Hunter paused, waiting for a response, but Winston remained silent, showing no sign of answering.

“Hey… aren’t you supposed to say something? Like, ‘I’m not what you think I am’ or something?” Hunter tilted his head.

“I can’t change what you think. If you get to know me better, your opinion might change on its own.”

“Haha…” Hunter laughed, the soft strands of his hair fluttering slightly in the night breeze. “Do you always sound so formal? If your fangirls knew how stiff and boring you really are, they’d stop idolizing you.”

“You’re not one of my fangirls,” Winston remarked.

“True enough… Want a smoke?” Hunter pulled a cigarette from his pocket and offered it to Winston.

“Cigarettes might keep you alert, but they’re bad for your lungs.”

Hunter shook his head with a touch of resignation. “Of course, someone as disciplined as you probably doesn’t smoke or drink. You probably stick to a strict bedtime, wake up early to exercise, and follow a schedule down to the second.”

Just as Hunter was about to put the cigarette away, Winston surprised him by taking it. He even pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette with calm ease.

Winston took a single puff, exhaling a smoke ring with casual elegance. The sight caught Hunter’s attention.

“Wow… my cigarette’s already gone… I barely got a puff!” Hunter tossed the butt into the trash with a regretful shrug and clapped his hands.

Winston sat quietly, gazing ahead with the cigarette held between his fingers.

Hunter smiled. “Come on, if you don’t smoke, don’t force yourself. Just give it back.”

“Mm.” Winston turned to hand the cigarette back to him.

At that moment, Hunter leaned in, one hand braced on the steps. Just as Winston moved to pull his hand back, the cigarette still between his fingers, Hunter’s lips brushed against them.

Whether they actually touched or not was uncertain—it could have been the warmth from the closeness that caused the sensation.

Winston felt as if his fingertips had been scorched. He froze, watching as Hunter gently took the cigarette from his grasp. Instinctively, Winston tried to grab it, but Hunter had already straightened up.

Hunter smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stood.

“Hey, thanks. It’s been nice hanging out with you. You’re not as aloof and difficult as the media and other drivers say.”

Hunter turned and walked away.

Winston sat in silence, his mind replaying the sensation of the cigarette slipping from his fingers… Then it struck him—it wasn’t the cigarette he felt, but Hunter’s tongue.

Suddenly, a steady heartbeat flared, as though ignited from within.

Taking a steady breath, Winston stood and made his way back to the hotel.

The next race was even more intense.

Winston and Penny were locked in a fierce, head-to-head showdown.

Then, disaster struck—Penny’s car lost control, the rear end spinning wildly. It veered directly toward Winston’s side, and in that split second, he realized there was no way to fully evade the collision. Even in the heat of the moment, he remained calm, calculating how to minimize the damage.

But suddenly, another car came speeding up from behind. The driver rammed into Penny, creating just enough space for Winston to slip through unscathed.

As Winston took the next corner, it dawned on him—the car that intervened was from the Marcus team… And at this distance, it would be impossible to avoid Penny!

Deep in his mind, it was as if a sharp blade had sliced through, and the pain spread from his brain all the way to his fingertips.

Despite this, he maintained his composure, keeping his breathing steady as he pushed forward with everything he had.

He made a daring overtake on Ciel at the next corner and pursued Owen relentlessly, finally passing him at the hairpin turn to claim victory.

Ferrari’s manager, Miller, was so thrilled his voice trembled.

“Incredible, Winston! That was amazing! This track has always been Owen’s stronghold, and you overtook him!”

“Who was driving the car… that blocked Penny?”

Winston’s voice sounded calm and cold to others, but only he knew how desperately he wanted the answer.

“Oh! We should thank that driver! If not for them, you wouldn’t have won.”

“You still haven’t told me who it was.”

Winston gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“It was Evan Hunter from the Marcus team. You’re lucky! The kid had been trailing behind you two, and when Penny’s brake pads failed, he just happened to pull ahead!”

“It wasn’t luck. Is he hurt?”

His nerves were taut.

On the track, any kind of serious accident could happen. Winston had always been prepared for that possibility. But now, he felt an unfamiliar sense of fear creeping in.

“No, he’s okay. I saw him get out of the car himself. His car’s front suspension was totaled, so he had to retire from the race.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

The post-race media interviews felt excruciating to Winston for the first time. His gaze was icy, and his responses were so curt that everyone in the room felt a chill.

The media, feeling the inexplicable pressure, wrapped up their questions much earlier than Mr. Miller had anticipated. Winston stood up abruptly and left.

Even as Mr. Miller called his name from behind, Winston didn’t stop.

When he stepped out of the taxi and hurried toward the hotel, he saw Hunter emerging from a small supermarket across the street, holding a bottle of cola.

There was no trace of defeat on the young man’s face. He unscrewed the cap, took a long swig, closed his eyes, and exhaled contentedly with a burp.

As he crossed the street, he noticed Winston standing in his path. He paused.

“Hey… Winston.”

Hunter smiled and was about to walk past him as if everything that had happened on the track was irrelevant.

Winston didn’t know why he acted so impulsively, but before he realized it, he had grabbed Hunter, pulling him close.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Hunter’s back collided with Winston’s chest before he quickly let go.

“Why did you do that during the race?”

“Do what?” Hunter looked genuinely confused.

“Blocking Penny for me.” Winston’s face remained expressionless.

“Well… I was just focused on chasing you guys… I lost control for a second…”

“You caught up to Penny and me, but you couldn’t control the car?” Winston asked.

His voice carried a strength that exposed everything and crushed any excuse.

“I… I only caught up by luck. But my luck wasn’t that great, since I ran into Penny’s brake failure…”

Hunter offered a helpless smile, and something in it made Winston feel a sudden pang of pain.

He wasn’t sure where the pain came from.

“Is it that hard for you to tell the truth?” Winston asked.

Hunter stood silently, turning his face to the side. The silence stretched for several moments before he finally sighed.

“Fine… I didn’t expect to do that either. By the time I realized it, I was already blocking him. From my angle, if Penny’s car spun out, there was a high chance you’d get hurt. As for me… at worst, I’d lose my front suspension. The risk of serious injury was low for me.”

“But we’re not even on the same team,” Winston pointed out.

“I know, I know we’re not. Maybe I was overthinking, assuming that just because we’d talked, there was some kind of connection between us. Don’t read too much into it… Just keep being Vann Winston, chasing down the cars in front of you. Why worry about what’s happening behind you?”

Hunter started to walk away again.

Winston grabbed him firmly once more.

“We do have a connection.”

“What? You and I… have a connection?” Hunter looked at him in disbelief.

“We’ve talked, haven’t we?” Winston replied.

“Sure… but just because we’ve talked, that makes us connected?”

“Do you think I talk to many people?”

“Probably not.”

“Then if I’ve spoken to you, doesn’t that mean something?”

“…Oh.” Hunter scratched his ear.

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The author has something to say:
Hunter: Where did you learn those moves to seduce me?
Winston: I’m just using the same tricks you used to tease me.
Fat Melon: This extra story is about how Hunter unintentionally seduced Winston in their past lives. It’s sweet, without any angst mixed in, so everyone can enjoy it without worry! Hahaha

Translator’s note:
Sorry for the delay, I’ve been busy IRL 😣