"What was he thinking just now? He actually plans to enter Knox?"
Kyle stared at the office door, half angry, half amused.
"With his skills? Can he even finish the course? A rookie who's never raced once!"
"Master, please don't be angry." Jade smiled as she kneaded Kyle's shoulders. "He's just showing off. He has no mecha girl, no pilot qualification. He can't enter Knox, and even if he did, it'd be meaningless. He doesn't even understand the rules."
"You're right." Kyle stroked Jade's hand with a soft chuckle. "But that Derek Su really does have a knack for modifications. If it weren't for you, I'd hate to kick out such a talented modifier from the Ascend Racing Club."
"Master, once we win the Knox Rally and build our reputation, modifiers will come to us naturally."
"That's true." Kyle's mind drifted to his module factory, which had shut down due to gambling debts.
He had spent all his money to buy Jade-786. Seeing how close Jade and Derek were, he hadn't planned on contracting her—after all, mecha girls and pilots choose each other. Forcing a bond was pointless. But now, Jade-786 had chosen him on her own. With her as his mecha, victory in Knox was practically guaranteed. Once his factory resumed operations, the debts would be easy to handle.
...
The night wind was freezing, making Derek shiver.
He didn't look back at the Ascend Racing Club once—there was nothing left for him there.
If Jade-786 had chosen to follow him, he might have accepted that otherwise unremarkable mecha girl. Worst case, he could race with Jade-786 more often, relying on his driving skills to compensate. Sooner or later, her attributes would rise, and she could become a renowned mecha girl.
But since Jade-786 didn't want him, he no longer wanted her either.
"This world may have pushed rally racing to its limit, but once race cars turned into mecha girls, extreme automation made drivers a bunch of giant babies—clueless about everything, not even knowing how to do a launch control."
Derek stared at the streetlight, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
Leaving him would be Jade-786's greatest regret.
People live for one thing—pride.
"I've already made the boast. Now I need to figure out how to contract a mecha girl."
He frowned. As much as he looked down on Knox's simple 200-kilometer course, he had to accept that he currently wasn't qualified to race.
There were two main ways to get a mecha girl:
One—buy from a specialty dealer.
Two—join a racing club, which would assign mecha girls they won from auctions. That was how Jade-786 ended up with him. Ascend Racing Club had bought three mecha girls at the Mech Island auction. After autonomous testing, only Jade-786 remained.
The other two refused to become functional vehicles and chose to return for recycling, ending their lives.
For a Mecha Girl, losing the ability to race meant losing the meaning of existence.
Many mecha girls chose recycling after being eliminated—resetting their AI cores to create new mecha girls. To Derek, this was brutal. But in this world, it was normal. People respected recycled mecha girls, but didn't mourn them.
"Looks like I'll have to check the recycling yard. Hopefully there's still a mecha girl who hasn't chosen recycling."
He sighed, standing by the riverbank, gazing at the sleepless, brightly lit city. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Hello? Who's speaking?"
"Mr. Liang, it's Derek. You mentioned before you wanted me to inherit the recycling yard? I'll take it."
Silence. Only wind whistling through the phone.
"Derek? You're not racing anymore? Did something happen at Ascend Racing Club?"
"No. Racing is too dangerous. I've figured it out—I'm better off drifting through life. Inheriting your recycling yard is fine."
Mr. Liang stepped indoors. The door closed, and the wind abruptly stopped.
"But you were dead set on being a racer! You even said my work was for old men. What changed?"
Derek clenched his fists but didn't answer.
"Well… it's fine. In life, nothing's better than staying safe… Come home soon. I'll make your favorite fish soup."
He knew Derek didn't want to explain, so he didn't ask further.
…
Derek hailed a taxi, slid into the front seat, and finally felt some warmth return to his body.
There were ordinary vehicles in this world, but they only handled basic transport. They couldn't race, nor could they turn into soft, fragrant girls.
"Driver, to Conscience Recycling Yard."
The driver responded quietly and kept driving.
When he first arrived in this world, he'd been no better than a beggar. Mr. Liang had taken him in and treated him like a son. The old man had a good personality but poor health—always coughing, sometimes clutching his chest in pain. He constantly urged Derek to inherit the recycling yard, shaking his head every time Derek mentioned racing.
Derek never understood why. In this world, racers stood at the top. Racing was the fastest way for ordinary people to climb the social ladder.
"We're here."
The driver's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He paid and got out. A massive ruin loomed before him.
Wrecked race cars were piled everywhere. A sign stood in front of the weathered gate—Conscience Recycling Yard.
Once a Mecha Girl was recycled, her chassis lost its AI core. The remaining wreckage was collected here. Each year, the government hauled the remains away and issued a payout to the yard. After all, the recycling yard also had to pay clubs when acquiring mecha girls—its profit came from the price difference.
Mr. Liang lived in a small wooden hut at the center of the yard.
When Derek entered, the aroma of fish soup filled his nose.
"Derek, you're back?"
The kitchen curtain lifted, revealing an elderly man with a hunched back and a face full of age.
His hair was nearly all white. When he smiled, wrinkles bunched like layers of old tree bark. "Fish soup'll be ready soon—piping hot!"
He turned and shuffled back into the kitchen.
"Mr. Liang, where are the mecha girls sent in for recycling a few days ago?" Derek set his backpack down.
"They're in the warehouse," Mr. Liang called from the kitchen. "Poor children, all of them. Since you're back, go take a look. They're scheduled for recycling tomorrow morning. If you can persuade them to become functional vehicles, that'd be best. If not, just let it be."
Arranging for mecha girls to be recycled—that was the recycling yard's work.
As the overseer, he had a duty to provide psychological counseling beforehand. From a human perspective, recycling was almost the same as suicide. If a mecha girl chose to become a functional vehicle, she could survive and still contribute to humanity.
Derek had helped with this before. Many mecha girls were determined—completely unpersuadable.
He rushed to the warehouse, pulling a key from his belt.
"Just have to try my luck."
He took a deep breath. Maybe he could find one candidate, a mecha girl who could still race. But he knew the odds were close to zero—those choosing recycling had already been eliminated, with no hope for the future.
To put it harshly… they were defective products.
…
Inside the warehouse, a girl in a silver bodysuit sat curled in a corner, hugging her knees.
No other mecha girls were there—only the wreckage of two racing machines.
In the cockpit of one, a Mecha Girl's AI Core floated silently, indicating both units had already been dismantled before recycling.
From the girl's chest, a silver, starlike AI Core
was slowly emerging.
She was dismantling herself.
Creak—
The warehouse door opened. Derek rushed in and caught the scene.
"STOP!!"
The girl froze in shock. The half-exposed AI Core retreated back into her body.
…