My Formula 1 System

By 9:30 AM, the plane touched down on a local runway, still within the heart of Paris. Luca carefully removed his earpiece, the music so loud he could still hear it faintly outside the buds.

The pilot of the compact plane had announced their imminent descent, and Luca quickly obeyed the instructions, his eyes fixed on the patchwork of the city that grew closer with every passing second.

Moments later, the plane's tires kissed the tarmac with a rumble, followed by a gradual roll down the runway to a final, hissing stop.

As the engines powered down, Luca exhaled deeply, reminding himself he was in a different city now. For some reason, the landing in Paris felt different... Was it truly the city's romanticized allure, or was it just his imagination?

Two flight attendants approached, addressing all of them, including the Hawthorne officials. The officials numbered four, bringing the total number of passengers to seven, including Luca, Mallow, and Sara.

"Welcome, everyone. This is Paris now," one of the attendants said casually. She wasn't formal, likely because the passengers weren't strangers to her and she knew them all. "You may disembark whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," one of the Hawthorne officials replied, though he made no effort to leave his seat. With his legs crossed, back relaxed, and stoic expression matching his colleagues, he showed no sense of urgency.

Luca wondered how flights on this plane used to go before it became mandatory for him to join. Perhaps these men weren't exactly thrilled about the idea of having Luca and his team accompany them.

He couldn't blame them. Glancing at Mallow, who was seated to his right, Luca noticed him munching on yet another round of snacks. "Oh! Thank you, my dear. You're so gorgeous and beautiful," Mallow remarked to the younger flight attendant, making her blush.

Luca, on the other hand, simply nodded in quiet appreciation before reaching for his duffel bag and leaving his seat. He followed Sara, who was far more composed and eager to leave the plane to get things done.

The jet's interior was sleek and modern, with the Hawthorne logo subtly embroidered into the seats. Luca had to admit, flying private was something he could easily get used to. No rush, no crowded terminals, no waiting for baggage claims—just efficiency and luxury.

The cool Parisian morning air was both crisp and warm. Standing at the cabin door, Luca squinted through the sunlight at the airport's buildings before descending the airstair with ease.

Just like in Barcelona, Luca's arrival in Paris was met with a small welcome ceremony. A few wardens stood at the bottom of the airstair, holding leis and vibrant necklaces to commemorate the upcoming racing weekend. As Luca descended, he bent his neck slightly, allowing one of them to drape a lei over him before a stunning woman stepped forward, greeting him with two light pecks on the cheeks.

"Your royal grandma mentioned something about a drive, right?" Sara asked, watching the small exchange before swiftly removing her own lei and slinging it over Luca's neck, adding to the growing collection.

"Yes," Luca replied, glancing past the welcome party to where a group of sleek SUVs were parked beyond the tarmac. He pointed towards them. "I hope that's them."

"It is," Mallow confirmed, his tone laced with excitement as he jogged down the stairs. He accepted his own lei with a grin before receiving the same double-cheek kiss from the woman.

Unlike Luca, Mallow lingered, his cheeks heating up. On impulse, he offered to return the gesture, and to his delight, she accepted with a playful smile.

"It is," he repeated, turning back to the group with an exaggerated air of confidence. "We'll take one. The rest belong to her men."

Before they entered the SUV, they ensured they collected their larger luggage. A man dressed in black was already waiting at the driver's seat when they got in—Luca taking the passenger seat, with Mallow and Sara seated in the back.

Luca provided the driver with the location of Trampos' designated venue for the 11th round of the season. The man, being a native Parisian, quickly understood the route and recognized the destination. With a swift turn out of the runway, he exited the airport within a minute.

Experience tales at empiren/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Luca anticipated the streets would be lined with flags and motorsport promotional materials, much like the way Barcelona had been during the 8th round. However, Paris had its own understated approach to celebrating the event.

Instead of overwhelming banners and massive billboards, there were subtle acknowledgments of the upcoming Grand Prix. Small flags adorned with team logos fluttered from lampposts, and shop windows featured mannequins dressed in racing-themed outfits surrounded by miniature racecars.

Here and there, screens displayed videos of F1 cars and drivers, but these weren't grand displays. They blended seamlessly with the city's typical advertisements, giving a nod to motorsport without overshadowing Paris's usual charm.

"It's quieter than I thought it'd be," Sara said, gazing out the window.

"Well, it's Paris," Mallow responded. "The race is in Le Castellet, not here. Paris is for 'love,' remember?"

Sara gave him a sharp look. "What's with you today?" she asked, but before he could answer, understanding dawned on her. Her expression softened, and an "Oh…" slipped out. Lowering her voice, she added, "Your honeymoon was in Paris, wasn't it?"

Mallow shrugged slightly, his face unreadable.

Three years had passed since his divorce, and now fate had brought him back to the very city where he and his wife had spent their honeymoon.

"I'm sorry, man," Luca said from the front seat, glancing briefly at Mallow before turning his attention back to the road.

And then it appeared—far to the right, the Eiffel Tower stood tall, its iron lattice catching the morning sun.

The timeless symbol of the city's elegance seemed even taller than Luca had imagined. It pierced the sky, its intricate frame adorned with lights that weren't yet illuminated. But Luca was certain they'd glow brilliantly in the evening, casting the surreal, glimmering look Paris was famous for.

The drive took longer than Luca had anticipated, which wasn't surprising since motorsport facilities were typically situated on the outskirts, far removed from the city's bustle.

The driver prioritized Luca's destination, passing by Sara and Mallow's intended hotel before continuing farther out of the city.

Eventually, they arrived. The facility resembled a mini stadium, flanked by three towering buildings that stood like rooks guarding a chessboard. After swift security checks, the driver navigated the vehicle into the premises.

Efficiently, he helped unload Luca's luggage, allowing Luca a moment to take in his surroundings.

Sara and Mallow waved from the car, and Luca returned the gesture as their driver reversed out. The tires crunched against the gravel, and moments later, the gate rolled shut, sealing the outside world away. A peaceful silence enveloped the facility, despite the entire Trampos crew being inside the buildings.

"Sup, mate?"

A security guard approached just as Luca finished scanning the sky, where the sun shone brightly. The shadows of the towering buildings stretched over a small track in the distance. Recognizing the man instantly, Luca smirked.

"Bonjour."

The guard chuckled, hoisting Luca's larger travel bag onto his shoulder. "Bonjour to you too, friend."