"Kai..."
Anthoine Hubert stood on his tiptoes, trying to get close to Kai's ear. He raised his voice, but it was completely swallowed by the deafening thumping of the club music. It barely registered. Hubert had to take a deep breath and practically scream, "KAI!"
The sheer effort of yelling over the bass made Hubert choke on his own breath, sending him into a fit of violent coughing. This time, Kai finally noticed him. Seeing Hubert's red, coughing face, Kai burst out laughing.
Hubert chuckled between coughs. "I had no idea Abu Dhabi actually had clubs! I thought there was zero nightlife or partying here!"
Despite the broken sentences, Kai understood perfectly. He threw his hands up in mock innocence and shook his head. "I know absolutely nothing about this."
The exaggerated expression made Hubert laugh even harder. "I didn't think there was anything you didn't know!"
The season was finally over. From the sprawling kickoff in March all the way to late November, the density of the calendar rivaled the professional tennis tour. Now, they could finally relax. More importantly, they had completed an unimaginable season, culminating in a historic Drivers' World Championship. It was worth celebrating. It demanded a party.
Consequently, Kai had opened his own wallet and treated the entire Ferrari garage to a night out at the club. He didn't leave anyone out. He personally invited Maurizio Arrivabene, Mattia Binotto, and the rest of the senior management, alongside Sebastian Vettel and his entire garage crew. It was a gesture of profound gratitude for a grueling year of hard work. Anyone who wanted to join the carnival was welcome.
However, much like Hubert, Kai had remained skeptical about the nightlife until he saw it with his own eyes. When the season concluded at Yas Marina the previous year, he had intended to explore the city, only to be immediately recalled to Maranello for emergency testing. Forget riding camels in the desert; he hadn't even managed a lap around the city center before rushing back to Italy. Because of that, Kai was still incredibly curious about Abu Dhabi.
Lorenzo had practically sworn on his life that Abu Dhabi's nightlife was far more spectacular than anyone imagined, easily rivaling globally renowned party capitals like Berlin. He promised to prove that the mythical scenes described in the One Thousand and One Nights were not only real but actually paled in comparison to the truth.
To that... Kai chose to trust him. After all, when it came to wild parties, Lorenzo was a seasoned professional.
And he didn't disappoint.
When Lorenzo led their massive entourage to a... gas station, no one thought much of it, assuming their transport simply needed refueling. But then Lorenzo ordered everyone out of the vehicles. All sixty-plus people filed out, entirely confused and disoriented.
Lando Norris even started shouting, "Is he planning to sell us all to the highest bidder?"
It was a small joke, but not entirely unfounded. The gas station was devoid of surrounding skyscrapers. Under the moonlight, one could faintly make out the rolling desert dunes. In a completely unfamiliar environment, they were truly in the middle of nowhere.
The absurdity only escalated. Acting as the vanguard, Kai followed Lorenzo into the restroom. Just as they were laughing and joking about pulling a classic "girls going to the bathroom together" move, Lorenzo stood at a urinal and pulled down the flush handle. While Kai was wondering why the urinal wasn't automatic, the entire wall slowly began to slide backward.
It was like the entrance to Diagon Alley in Harry Potter.
A chorus of Oohs and Aahs erupted and didn't stop. Norris was the first to squeeze through from the back, charging straight ahead down a long corridor.
A massive, hidden subterranean world unfolded before them. The sprawling space was larger than a football field. Young men and women were dancing wildly beneath neon lights and a massive disco ball. The heat from their bodies evaporated into rolling waves, filling the air with a thick, pulsating energy.
The group stood on the second-floor balcony, staring down at the scene in absolute shock. The sheer scale and spectacle hit them in overwhelming waves, leaving them temporarily speechless.
Suddenly, a figure appeared out of nowhere, throwing his arms over Kai and Hubert's shoulders. "You don't just look at a party, you go down there and experience it!"
That smooth, overly confident tone could only belong to Pierre Gasly.
Just moments ago, he had been dragging his feet at the back of the group, looking completely miserable and devoid of life. Now, he was practically vibrating with boundless energy.
Kai turned his head, shooting him a deadpan look. "I thought you'd already left. Didn't you say you weren't interested? Didn't you refuse to come to my party?"
After the race ended, Gasly had been incredibly frustrated and dejected. After the summer break, he had been enthusiastically gearing up to fight for the vacant Red Bull seat left by Daniel Ricciardo. He was determined to claim it. But as the season dragged on, and Christian Horner and Helmut Marko practically sang Kai's praises to the heavens, Gasly became convinced the Red Bull seat had slipped completely out of his grasp. Now, everything Kai did annoyed him. Even though he knew Kai was innocent in the matter, Gasly couldn't help but mutter complaints under his breath.
Hearing Kai's teasing, Gasly's eyes went wide. "I came for the party, not for you! Anthoine, back me up here, right?"
Hubert paused. "...Pierre, no."
Gasly froze, then looked up at the ceiling and sighed dramatically. "Now even Anthoine belongs to you. God, why do you torture me like this!"
With that, Gasly pushed through the crowd and sprinted down the metal stairs, deliberately stomping his feet so they clanged loudly. He seamlessly blended into the dance floor, instantly pairing up with a stunning blonde woman for an intense dance routine.
The sheer speed of his transition was jaw-dropping!
Lorenzo offered a brief critique. "I had no idea there were veterans like him among the drivers."
And with that, the party officially began!
Tonight, they would temporarily forget paddock politics, next season's planning, internal team drama, and even the World Championship itself. Tonight was solely about celebrating the end of a grueling season and partying with reckless abandon.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Kai, having just finished a dance and now ordering drinks at the bar, pulled his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID.
Will Smith.
Kai paused. That was a surprise. After the race, the Hollywood superstar had met Kai in the VIP suite. They exchanged a few pleasantries and contact information, but Kai hadn't thought much of it, assuming it was just standard social politeness. If Kai remembered correctly, Smith had come specifically for Hamilton. Hamilton was currently the only driver on the grid with deep connections in fashion, film, and music. Those A-list celebrities and socialites almost exclusively showed up to support him, and Smith had even watched the race from the Mercedes garage.
Tonight was supposed to be the celebration of Hamilton's fifth World Championship. No one expected to witness an entirely different piece of history. Seeing the incoming call now was even more surprising than their brief encounter in the VIP suite.
Did he accidentally butt-dial while the phone was in his pocket?
After a brief hesitation, Kai chose to ignore the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Normally, Kai navigated these superficial social interactions with ease; it was never an issue. But tonight was different. He didn't feel like entertaining spoiled Hollywood superstars.
However, just as Kai reached for his drink, his phone vibrated again in his pocket. He flashed an apologetic smile to the bartender and pulled it out once more.
Will Smith!
Okay, so it definitely wasn't a butt-dial.
Kai quickly realized that if Will Smith wanted to, he could just keep calling until someone answered. Exhaling softly, Kai answered the phone.
"Good evening, this is Lewis Hamilton."
A beat of silence followed the statement. When Smith finally spoke, his voice was laced with pure bewilderment. "Lewis? Uh, obviously I've interrupted something..."
"Wait, wait—"
"Kai! You played me!"
The dramatic, wildly oscillating tone conveyed exactly how much of a rollercoaster Smith had just been on. He sounded like he was questioning his own sanity, clearly having double-checked the number he dialed before finally realizing the truth.
Kai couldn't hold it back; his smile widened into a grin. "Excellent improvisation skills. Truly worthy of a Hollywood superstar, handling that scenario with such ease. It seems you must have been busy comforting someone's wounded soul tonight."
Smith was stunned by how unapologetically direct and confident Kai was. When it registered, a massive laugh erupted over the line. "Oh, stop making fun of me. I surrender! I yield! I just wanted to show off that I'm good friends with the new F1 World Champion, and I got instantly exposed."
Smith's self-deprecating humor lacked any of the typical celebrity arrogance. The atmosphere instantly lightened, and Kai relaxed, firing back a joke. "Don't worry, I won't tell Lewis."
"Haha! Hahahaha! Kai, you are a menace. I'm not surprised at all that you flipped the board and turned the entire paddock upside down."
"So, that's a good thing, right? Is Toto Wolff holding up okay?"
A series of exaggerated groans of pain echoed from Smith on the other end. "Brother, you are ruthless! No wonder you managed to break the deadlock. Toto probably grinds his teeth just hearing your name right now."
That... wasn't necessarily true. Nicholas Todt had mentioned that Wolff sent him a text right after the race. It didn't mention transfers or contracts; Wolff simply congratulated Kai on an unbelievable season. However, Wolff's underlying message was crystal clear: he wanted to meet Kai face-to-face, off the record, purely as 'friends'.
Clearly, the public facade was one thing, but what happened behind closed doors was entirely different. Still, Kai had no intention of discussing paddock secrets with Smith. "So, are you planning to switch teams now, or are you just here to ride the hype train?"
"Ooh, sharp! Very sharp!" Smith winced playfully on the other end, his vibrant expressions practically radiating through the receiver. "I'm just here to ride the coattails. What do you say, is our World Champion willing to let me join the fun?"
"We're throwing a massive party over by the marina, and literally everyone is asking about Kai. Everyone wants to meet you. To Hollywood, you're a fresh face who just exploded onto the scene surrounded by this massive aura of mystery. Whoever knows you instantly becomes the king of the Hollywood social scene."
Smith paused, deliberately lowering his voice as if dodging eavesdroppers. "Right now, the entire party is counting on me to turn the tide and save this incredibly boring night."
"Please, please, I'm begging you, do not let Tom Cruise beat me to it."
The vivid, incredibly animated delivery painted a perfect picture of Smith's expressions, entirely erasing the physical and psychological distance between them. You had to admit, the man was charismatic.
Kai's smile brightened. "Do you mind if I bring a few friends?"
At this point, refusing again would just seem pretentious.
"No, no, no, bring as many friends as you want! The more the merrier. The venue is massive, we can definitely squeeze in two or three more people."
The casual, self-aware humor was effortless. Smith clearly knew exactly how to liven up a room.
Hanging up, Kai didn't rush off. Drink in hand, he navigated the crowd to find Lorenzo and casually explained the situation.
Lorenzo's eyes lit up with surprise. "This is fantastic news! How are you so calm about this?"
Kai was currently locked in a power struggle with Ferrari, preparing to wage war against corporate capital. A Drivers' World Championship was undeniably a massive bargaining chip, but securing the backing of Hollywood's elite would change the landscape entirely. The value wasn't in the celebrities themselves, but in the network and the massive surge in global traffic.
Why had Hamilton become the definitive face of F1, the iconic figure heavily promoted by the FIA? His four World Championships were crucial, but his British nationality, media savvy, and extensive cross-industry connections had cemented his unparalleled global recognition and influence. By contrast, Sebastian Vettel, also a four-time champion, commanded none of that mainstream power. The key difference was his fiercely private, low-profile lifestyle outside the paddock; he rarely stepped into the spotlight.
It was like David Beckham. Reaching superstar status required on-field brilliance as a foundation, but sports alone weren't enough. There was a massive difference between being a sports star and being a global icon. Facing down a corporate behemoth like Ferrari, a rootless outlier like Kai needed to leverage every single potential advantage to seize control of his own narrative.
Lorenzo, always thinking ten steps ahead, immediately saw the big picture and was practically buzzing with excitement. Kai, however, remained grounded. He knew that the higher the echelon, the more tightly sealed the circle. Breaking into that world as an outsider was never simple. Tonight, the World Championship was merely the key to unlock the door.
Just like the paddock had reacted to Smith's appearance earlier today—a brief flutter of excitement followed by immediate indifference—they were ultimately two distinct worlds with little overlap. The same applied to Kai showing up at a Hollywood after-party. If he wanted to not just open the door, but actually take a seat at the table, he had to stay cold, stay lucid, and play his cards perfectly tonight. Rushing it was the worst mistake he could make.
However, when they finally arrived at Smith's venue, a genuine gasp of awe escaped Kai's lips. If the defining trait of Lorenzo's party was secrecy, then the defining trait of Smith's party was luxury. No, opulence.
It was an actual palace situated within the Emirates Palace private waterfront district. Security guards were stationed every few steps, and Kai was certain there were hidden personnel lurking in the shadows. Outsiders couldn't simply stroll in. Waiters in crisp white shirts and black suits navigated the grand hall. A massive crystal chandelier banished the darkness, standing like a beacon in the endless night, guiding their way.
Yet, the grand hall was practically deserted. It looked nothing like a party; instead, it carried the desolate, lingering emptiness of an event that had already ended. Norris had charged ahead, only to find nothing. He backpedaled slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous hall. Startled by the sound, Norris shrank his shoulders, tiptoed forward, and dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Kai, are you sure we're in the right place?"
Kai, who was equally confused and quietly scanning their surroundings, responded casually to Norris's question. "It's possible the taxi driver completely scammed us."
Norris turned around to see Kai's deadpan, completely serious expression. Unable to tell if Kai was joking, Norris's eyes darted frantically around the room. The sight was so comical that Hubert and Leclerc, standing nearby, had to bite their lips and look down, struggling violently to hold back their laughter.
Just as Norris was about to loudly protest, a figure materialized directly in front of them. Literally out of thin air! It was Will Smith.
Where on earth did he come from? Was this some kind of grand illusion? Kai analyzed the area and finally noticed a folding screen behind Smith. It blended so flawlessly into the background lighting and architecture that it looked exactly like the wall. Unless you were actively searching for it, it was invisible. The meticulous attention to detail highlighted the true extravagance of the palace. Kai couldn't help but wonder what other secrets this seemingly ordinary hall concealed.
Smith threw his arms wide open. He had embraced the local culture, donning traditional Emirati attire. In the dim light, it was hard to tell exactly what it was—a kandura, a robe, or something else entirely. When he spread his arms, the flowing sleeves flared out like a peacock displaying its feathers. It was actually quite comical. But Smith clearly didn't think so. Beaming with boundless enthusiasm, he looked ready to embrace the entire world. The flowing white robes actually gave him the slight aura of a cult leader. The thought crossed Kai's mind, and he couldn't hold back a smile.
"I was actually starting to worry I was going to be completely humiliated tonight, wondering if I should take a private jet to a remote island in the South Indian Ocean and hide for a few months until this all blew over."
"But clearly, that was just my anxiety acting up. My therapist keeps telling me I need to stop torturing myself."
"Anyway—"
"Welcome! Welcome to my party!"
With just a few sentences, the tension instantly evaporated. It was a masterclass in reading a room; Smith was truly an elite host.
He didn't miss a beat. "Charles Leclerc. Lando Norris. Lorenzo Moretti... Anthoine Hubert." He greeted each of them individually, nailing every single name flawlessly, and followed it up with a warm, enthusiastic hug. Looking at Hubert's utterly bewildered expression, it was clear Smith had already smashed through the social barriers. They didn't even need small talk; they practically felt like old friends.
Finally, Smith stopped in front of Kai, a massive smile plastered on his face. "And finally, our Champion!"
Kai looked at him, slightly raising his chin. "So, I'm the only one who doesn't get a name?"
Smith froze, but rather than making excuses, he immediately leaned into self-deprecation. "Damn it, busted. Honestly, I'm still working on the pronunciation. You didn't give me much time! All my rehearsed speeches were for Lewis. I was scrambling, and clearly, I didn't finish prepping." It was half-joke, half-truth. He took a deep breath. "Lu?"
In English phonetics, there is no direct equivalent to the precise "U" sound in Kai's surname, only the softer "OU". As a result, it always sounded slightly off, coming out somewhere near "Luo" but not quite right. Ironically, the Italians and French handled the pronunciation perfectly without any issues.
Kai was more than used to it. "The focus shouldn't be on the vowel, but on the tone, right?"
Smith let out a massive sigh of relief, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Exactly! You saved me. So, let's figure out exactly how to say it."
Without lingering, Smith gestured for them to follow, actively discussing the pronunciation with Kai as he led the group into the hidden world.
They stepped past the screen, and the world instantly transformed.
Behind them lay the brilliantly illuminated, gilded grand hall, so bright it stung the eyes. If that was heaven, then what lay ahead was the dark underworld. They descended just three steps, and their shoes sank into soft, fine sand. The atmosphere was dim, ambiguous, and hazy. The pale moonlight bled through the smoky, blurred lighting. Above the roar of the music, they could hear the crashing waves of the ocean. Their hearts involuntarily synchronized with the heavy, pounding bass. A massive, thrashing crowd packed the dance floor. Even from a distance, you could practically feel the scalding heat of skin pressing against skin. Thick, sticky sweat evaporated into rolling waves of humidity. The air was so dense and damp that their mouths went dry before they had even fully stepped inside.
From heaven to hell, separated by a single wall. The sheer, free-fall transition made their eardrums throb.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!"
A massive commotion erupted from the center of the dance floor. Whistles, clapping, and cheering fell into a synchronized rhythm. The crowd visibly parted, clearing a large circle in the middle. A bald man stepped forward, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt. With a primal roar, he violently ripped the shirt entirely in half. His massively built, heavily muscled physique made him look like an absolute titan. He casually tossed the shredded fabric behind him, sending the crowd into a frenzy. It was like a pack of bridesmaids diving for a bouquet, or a school of koi fish fighting over food. The chaotic cheering pushed the atmosphere to its absolute zenith.
Then, the bald titan started breakdancing right there on the sand. It was a little clunky, a little rough around the edges, but the entertainment value was off the charts! The whistling, clapping, and roaring never stopped!
The dim lighting made it hard to see clearly, but based on the distinctive Polynesian tribal tattoo on his right shoulder, the bald titan had to be Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson! Nearby, Michael B. Jordan was standing with two bottles of whiskey, pouring them directly over Johnson, while the women surrounding them screamed in sheer delight.
But clearly, that wasn't the only center of attention. Another group of women was aggressively swarming a man, slowly backing him toward a corner sofa. Through a quick glance, the chiseled, incredibly muscular man trapped in the middle looked suspiciously like Henry Cavill.
Sitting dead center on a long sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, a figure lounged with the lazy, half-drunk elegance of a Persian cat. It was hard to make out, but it looked incredibly like Rihanna. The stiletto heel of her shoe seemed to be resting firmly on someone's chest. Squinting through the flickering strobe lights, Kai vaguely recognized the man beneath her heel as the son of a prominent Indian billionaire, a family with wealth that rivaled small nations. Yet right now, he had his tongue practically hanging out, looking exactly like a puppy begging for attention. Next to him, another figure was on his hands and knees, waiting his turn in the 'line'. The dim lighting completely obscured his lowered face, but if Kai wasn't mistaken, it was the heir to a massive Dubai real estate empire, someone who had cordially greeted him in the VIP suite just hours ago after the podium ceremony.
It was an overwhelming, mind-bending spectacle.
Then, two figures walked past them, chatting and laughing hysterically without breaking stride. Whatever they were discussing had them bent over in laughter, the bright, clear sound cutting through the underworld like a ray of sunshine.
Norris leaned in close to Kai, unable to contain his curiosity. "Was that Barbara Palvin who just walked past us?"
It was supposed to be a whisper, but the deafening noise meant Norris had to practically roar the question directly into Kai's ear. Before Kai could even formulate an answer, Smith was already shouting.
"Barbara! Kendall! Hey, our Champion is right here!"
Barbara Palvin and Kendall Jenner, the two young supermodels, turned around simultaneously. They spotted Smith first, and then locked eyes on Kai. Norris, caught completely red-handed while gossiping, froze rigidly in place, completely unsure of what to do.
Palvin's smile broke out entirely. She leaned slightly forward and shouted from across the room, "Hey, Champion! The world is yours tonight!"
With that, Palvin and Jenner both laughed brightly and turned back around. Their long hair whipped through the air, catching the light, and for a fleeting second, you could almost catch the scent of their perfume as they strutted away without breaking stride.
Scene after scene, it was too much to process. Their eyes simply couldn't keep up. The neon lights, the intoxicating alcohol, the expensive clothes, the beautiful people. The hallucinatory lighting made everything disorienting and confusing. For a moment, it was impossible to tell if they had stumbled down the rabbit hole, or if characters from a massive cinema screen had smashed the fourth wall and invaded reality. The boundary between reality, film, and a fever dream had completely vanished.
The entire world was spinning. They were standing outdoors, yet it felt as though they were suffocating from a lack of oxygen. Was this normal?
The paddock was the absolute center of global attention, a sport inherently bathed in the spotlight. Socialites, tech billionaires, and conglomerate heirs all gathered there. In the realm of competitive sports, F1 was unquestionably aristocratic. Teams casually burned through hundreds of millions of dollars a year, pushing the boundaries of imagination. F1 drivers were the 1% of the 1% in the sporting world, standing at the absolute pinnacle of the pyramid.
However, that was only the public perception; the reality was slightly different. As drivers, they strapped on helmets and fireproof suits, squeezing into claustrophobic cockpits. Pushed to the absolute limits of speed, they ultimately became mere extensions of the machinery. When they stepped out of the cars, their lives were confined to the tiny, insular bubble of the paddock. They lived beneath the magnesium flashes, but they rarely ever breached the perimeter of their own world. Being at the top of the pyramid meant being incredibly isolated, living exclusively within a tiny, elite circle that rarely intersected with other spheres of influence.
Now, stepping into a party like this—superstars or not—it was undeniably an entirely new world. The figures they had only ever seen on television screens were suddenly standing right in front of them. The raw, inexperienced nervousness of the rookies began to leak out uncontrollably. Especially after Smith wandered off, the group found themselves completely lost in the sprawling party.
Instinctively, every pair of eyes locked onto Norris. Out of their group of rookies, Norris was ostensibly the only one groomed for these kinds of opulent, high-society gatherings. After all, the title of 'billionaire heir' wasn't just for show.
Norris stared back at them, his face a picture of sheer panic and utter confusion. He threw his hands up, his mouth opening and closing rapidly, but no sound came out. "I... she... this..." Finally, unable to take the pressure, Norris turned a desperate gaze toward Kai.
Kai looked completely innocent. "Why are you all looking at me? If I had known, I would have dragged Pierre here."
Gasly: Achoo! What the hell! Jokes aside, after the initial shock wore off, Kai found his footing amidst the overwhelming visual bombardment, quickly recovering his usual calm composure.
"Relax. Relax. There's no need to panic. Will Smith is a normal human being, as you've all just witnessed. Everyone else here is also a normal human being. After a quick visual scan, I can confirm there are no aliens present. Two eyes, one nose, one mouth. They belong to the exact same species as us. We've all seen them before."
Beside him, Hubert, who had been completely silenced by the culture shock, absentmindedly mumbled, "Who knows, maybe they really are aliens, and you've just had your memory erased."
Wait, was Hubert making a Men in Black reference? The movie starring Will Smith?
Swish. Swish. Swish. Every single head snapped toward Hubert. A beat later, Hubert finally realized what he had said, meeting their stares. "If our memories were wiped, it's perfectly normal that we wouldn't remember."
Pfft. Leclerc was the first to break, letting out a sharp snort of laughter.
Kai patted Hubert's shoulder. "I actually think not remembering is a good thing. If you don't have the memory, you don't have the fear, which means we can still enjoy the party. You've all seen Star Wars. Not all aliens are bad guys. And even if they are, we've always got the Guardians of the Galaxy, right?"
What in the world was going on? How had the conversation suddenly jumped through three different sci-fi cinematic universes? The group exchanged bewildered glances before collectively bursting into roaring laughter.
"You should have seen your face."
"You need to go look in a mirror, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"Stay away from me, I don't know you."
Trading insults and roasting each other, the suffocating tension finally evaporated. Kai was right. They were all just normal people; their professions were merely different. They were drivers, while the people here were actors, models, and singers. They all lived on someone's television screen or within someone's fantasy. There was fundamentally no difference.
Seeing that no one was willing to take the first step, Kai finally stepped forward.
"Lorenzo, how long are you planning to stay submerged?" Even though Gasly hadn't tagged along, Kai hadn't forgotten he brought another seasoned party animal with him.
Lorenzo remained perfectly relaxed, an old pro in his element. "A party is a party. Just let loose and enjoy it. Here, your profession and your status don't matter. Joy and happiness are the only currencies with any value." He shot Kai a sidelong glance. "You're usually a master at this. You hit the scene and immediately conquer a goddess. Just be careful tonight, try not to break too many hearts."
Norris instantly picked up on the subtle implications in Lorenzo's words. He shuffled closer, taking tiny steps. "What goddess? Is Kai a party animal too? He's been hiding it!"
Lorenzo watched Kai walk away, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You haven't heard the story of how he conquered Rome?"
Ignoring Lorenzo's blatant attempts to fabricate wild stories behind his back, Kai strode forward and blended into the crowd. The best way to make friends wasn't to walk up and formally introduce yourself; it was to join the party. Jump into their chaos, and a natural rapport would follow.
Sure enough, after just a few minutes on the dance floor, Kai was deep in an engaging conversation with Margot Robbie. Robbie was incredibly talkative. Even though she admitted she had never watched F1 prior to today—confessing it was entirely her PR team's idea, believing an appearance in Abu Dhabi would boost her global exposure—she had clearly been deeply impacted by the intensity of the race.
Later, Kai was spotted in a corner, chatting intimately with Emily Ratajkowski. Barbara Palvin swung by to jokingly interrogate him, before introducing him to a group of Victoria's Secret models. Naturally, the young, energetic crowd began to organically gravitate toward Kai, forming a circle around him.
That was, until the host made his triumphant return.
Will Smith, having vanished for quite some time, finally reappeared. With profound apologies, he 'borrowed' Kai away from the cluster of supermodels. Smith specifically introduced Kai to Dwayne Johnson, Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, and several other heavy hitters. But the real punchline came later, sending Kai into fits of laughter.
The 'massive VIP guest' that Smith had been hyping up and preparing to grandly introduce... was none other than Frédéric Arnault, the third son of the LVMH empire.
When Smith discovered that Arnault and Kai were already close friends outside the paddock, Smith practically dropped to his knees, utterly horrified that he had made such a fool of himself.
Coincidentally, the watch adorning Kai's right wrist tonight wasn't from Ferrari's official sponsor, Richard Mille. It was a bespoke piece from TAG Heuer, privately commissioned and gifted by Arnault to celebrate Kai's championship victory. Custom-built exclusively for Kai, it was a true one-of-a-kind masterpiece.
Instead of being embarrassed, Smith stared at the watch with genuine envy, repeatedly asking, "Did you really know he was going to win the championship before the race even started?"
Arnault offered a shy, understated smile. "I know absolutely nothing about racing. It's just a gift from a friend."
Observe. That was the effortless grace of a luxury conglomerate heir, instantly closing the social distance with a single, self-deprecating comment.
The clinking glasses and hallucinatory lights of the party were dizzying. Kai's presence seemed to touch every corner of the venue. When he finally managed to extricate himself from the swarms of people and catch his breath, he immediately headed for the bar, shouting to the bartender over the noise.
"Could I get a sparkling water, please? Thank you!"
He felt like his throat was actively on fire. The primary side effect of networking at a massive party was total vocal destruction. You had to scream every single sentence; it was just a matter of whose vocal cords gave out first.
The bar area was naturally cramped. It wasn't quite a sardine can, but it was getting uncomfortably close.
To his left, a figure was patiently waiting for the bartender's attention. She had been constantly shifting her stance, fighting to maintain her spot against the crushing pressure of the crowd surging from both sides. Hearing Kai's order, the corners of her mouth curved upward. Despite the chaotic environment, she hadn't lost her sense of dry, self-deprecating humor.
"Sparkling water?"
"Are you sure about that, sir? You don't strike me as the 'good student' type. I think the party for well-behaved children is somewhere else."
Kai turned his head. He was met with a face defined by sharp, striking angles. Her eyes, nose, and lips all possessed a crisp, fierce geometry, radiating an incredibly sharp, internal confidence. Those clear eyes looked at him directly, open and unbothered. They seemed entirely transparent, yet simultaneously impossible to read.
It was not a face you could easily ignore.