Hanuel's POV
"Hey, hey, Hanuel, are you leaving?" Yoona calls after me, grabbing my arm as I storm past, practically vibrating with anger.
I turn to her with a pout. "I want to leave."
Her eyes widen like I just spoke another language. Jang Hanuel, the girl who always calls underground racing her paradise, saying she wants to leave? Unbelievable.
"But why?" she presses.
I let out a heavy breath. "Ghost."
"Ghost?" Yoona's eyes go round. "You met Ghost?! What? Why are you—"
"I fixed the asshole's car. It was overheating, seconds away from blowing up on the track. Instead of thanking me, he accused me of sabotaging him. Me!" I jab my finger at my chest, laughing in disbelief. "Why would I even do that?"
Yoona stares, then gently holds both my hands. "Hanuel, you know you weren't supposed to go near the racers' cars in the first place. And since sabotaging is common, maybe he just—"
"No, no, no." I cut her off, shaking my head furiously. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. Come on! Let's just leave and grab tteokbokki or something."
Yoona sighs but finally nods. "Fine."
I grin at my best friend, and she returns it.
We start walking away until the crowd erupts, screaming the countdown.
TEN.
NINE.
EIGHT.
Engines roar to life, vibrating the ground, every car lined up to devour the track. Yoona and I instantly forget about food and rush toward the barricades to get a better view.
FIVE.
FOUR.
I narrow my eyes at Ghost's car. "Asshole."
BLAST OFF!
The cars rocket forward, the cheers around us deafening.
The cars shoot forward and the crowd rushes toward the finish line. Overhead, mounted screens flicker with drone footage, the cameras struggling to keep up with the blistering speed.
The Joker takes the lead, and for some reason, I find myself rooting for him tonight especially since he and Ghost are infamous rivals. Before I realize it, I'm screaming, "You can do it, JOKER!"
I can practically feel Yoona staring at me in disbelief, but I ignore her, still yelling my lungs out. Then, just like that, Ghost surges ahead. In the blink of an eye, he leaves Joker in the dust and crosses the finish line. A dark cloud instantly settles over me.
Yoona nudges closer. "Time to go?"
"Uh huh." I don't even need to say more. We leave, hop into her car, and later crash at my apartment. We order pizza and throw on true crime documentaries.
Yoona shoots me a side-eye. I return it without hesitation.
"What? Focus on how that guy buried his girlfriend's body," I say, pointing at the TV before taking a big bite of pizza.
Yoona sighs. "Are you really this mad because of Ghost?"
"Well, he accused me of something I didn't do!" I grumble, grabbing another slice and chewing with pure passive aggression.
"Hanuel, he doesn't know you. And I'm not defending him, but… sabotaging is pretty common. Maybe he just—"
"Do you think it's because of how I look?" I cut in, words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Should I dye my hair, wear contacts and glasses, and embrace the whole normie standard thing?"
Now I'm spiraling, all over the place, and Yoona just stares at me like I've grown two heads.
I mean, I know Yoona's right. I wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, and in underground racing, sabotaging is normal. That's why crashes are so common and why it's illegal. There are no real rules.
I just… feel hurt. Because I actually admired Ghost. He was awesome. But now? Now I just want to knock his head with his own helmet.
Yoona scoots closer and cups my face with her greasy hands. I don't even flinch. She's looking at me with the same eyes she always used back in middle school and high school when I'd beat up bullies and then cry afterward, because no matter how much I fought back, their words still cut deep.
"It's not because of your looks. You're beautiful, Hanuel. Come on, it's not worth it." She pulls me into a hug, and I squeeze her back, closing my eyes.
"Thank you, Bettlejuice," I sniff.
"Anytime, Jack the Ripper." She snorts, and a smile cracks across my lips.
I have a wonderful friend. Ghost can go fuck himself.
****
The next morning, Yoona leaves early to change and head to her first class. My class doesn't start for a while, so I head down to check on my bike, parked safely among the cars in the underground lot.
I crouch beside her, checking the tires... the only thing I really need to replace and sigh. I'm broke. Every last won went into tuition, and since Dad's been sick with gastritis, all the money from my parents goes to his treatment. I'm basically fending for myself.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and see a text from Hanjae, my sixteen-year-old little brother.
[Hanjae: You didn't send me a picture.]
I snort.
[Hanjae: Why?]
[Hanjae: Oh, you think I still don't have a phone? I just got a new one.]
My eyes widen. I quickly snap a picture and send it to him. [Me: How did you get money?]
[Hanjae: I'm a gamer, remember?]
A second later another text pops up. [Hanjae: Anyway, good luck. Mum and Dad are fine, so just focus on studying and building your car.]
A smile tugs at my lips. I shove my phone back into my pocket and head out. The Uber I called is already waiting, and before long I'm in class.
The professor drones on, but I'm half-listening, chewing the end of my pen while my left hand sketches the clean lines of a car across my notebook page.
After class, I step outside only to see Yoona sprinting toward me at full speed. She grabs my shoulders the second she reaches me, eyes wide with excitement.
"We got in!"
"Huh? What's going on?"
She frowns, yanks out her phone, and shoves the screen in my face. It's a message from Minho.
[Minho: You and Hanuel are in. We're not taking anyone else. You'll meet the drivers. Come now.]
The message was sent ten minutes ago. My eyes shoot to Yoona's, and suddenly we're both squealing, ignoring the weird looks from people passing by.
"Let's go, let's go!" I tap her frantically, and she just grins.
We hurry across campus and head straight for the garage. Minho is at the doorway, pacing with a file in his hand, while the low rumble of the boys' voices echoes inside.
"Hyung!" Yoona calls out.
Minho looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he smiles. "Welcome to the club. Come inside." His tone is so formal it makes me cringe, but excitement wins out and I follow him in.
Inside, I recognize the three guys from yesterday but this time there are two more, and unlike the first group, these ones aren't stained with oil.
The boys go silent, all five of them staring at us like we're aliens.
Yoona had already introduced me to them last night except the drivers, since I didn't see them and wasn't in the mood to ask of drivers.
"Are these the new members?" Dong-woo, the first guy from yesterday, speaks up. He's a fourth-year, mechanical engineering major like me, with shaggy brown hair and oil-stained hands that scream garage rat.
I'm... jealous.
"Seriously, hyung, you agreed? Did Taeyang agree to this? He's literally the club president, remember?" That's Seoyeon, the misogynistic guy from yesterday. He's a sleek type jet-black hair styled too neatly for a garage, gold watch flashing on his wrist.
Yoona told me he's a business major, in charge of sponsors, team image, and social media. Annoying, but apparently good at his job.
The third guy, Hyunki, who had stayed quiet yesterday, just smiles and waves. "Welcome to the club." He's a third-year in Aerospace Engineering, with dyed silver hair that catches the light, softening the sharp edges of his face.
Then he gestures to the other three. "Those are the drivers."
"Rookie, Yi-jun." The first guy, with retro glasses and a mop of wavy chestnut hair, gives a friendly wave.
"Byeong-ho." The second one waves dully. He has buzzed dark hair, heavy-lidded eyes, and a permanent scowl on his face.
"And that's Park Jiwon, our ace driver," Minho adds, pointing toward the corner.
My eyes follow and freeze.
Sitting at the head of the table, gloved hands resting casually on his knee like he owns the place, is Ghost. His midnight-black eyes narrow at me, recognition flashing before sliding back into that infuriating calm.
My stomach drops.
"It's… you," he mutters.
"Oh, no way," I whisper at the same time.
And just like that...awkward.