Luca would be honest with himself—this particular Asian man had lingered in his mind far more often than he cared to admit. He couldn't even put it into words for easier explanation, but somehow, this man had become a persistent mental disturbance for him. Whenever Luca had a moment's rest, his mind ultimately flashed back to the Asian man, wondering what he was all about.
That was the thing. It wasn't just about the man's aura or the quiet, mischievous halo he wore, but something deeper—a question Luca wanted answers to and wasn't getting.
As he walked earlier in the direction of the pit lane boy, toward the mysterious delegate, a part of him actually wondered if it could be the man.
Alas, it was him. Smug, cheeky face. Thin lips, buzz cut, though denser than Luca's. And those obnoxious, signature thin rectangular shades perched on his nose, which made him look annoying.
