Marzenskii POV: Was That Just a Dream?
I woke up suddenly.
My breathing was uneven.
The room was dark.
For several seconds I simply stared at the ceiling.
Something felt wrong.
A strange heaviness lingered in my chest.
Like I had forgotten something important.
Or remembered something impossible.
I slowly sat up.
My heart was still racing.
A dream.
It had been a dream.
At least...
I thought it was.
I closed my eyes.
Immediately the image returned.
A race.
A G2 race.
The crowd.
The track.
The roar of thousands of spectators.
And her.
Marzensky.
The girl standing across from me.
No.
Not across from me.
The girl who looked exactly like me.
The memory was so vivid it made my stomach tighten.
The same face.
The same eyes.
The same silver hair.
The same ears.
The same tail.
Looking at her had felt like looking into a mirror.
Yet she wasn't me.
My racing uniform had been familiar.
The one I had worn countless times.
Her uniform wasn't.
Different colors.
Different design.
Different era.
Different history.
Yet somehow I knew.
She was Marzensky.
Just as surely as I was Marzenskii.
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
"...What a strange dream."
The race replayed itself in fragments.
The other Marzensky never seemed nervous.
Never seemed intimidated.
Even when I took control of the pace.
Even when I secured the lead.
Even when everything unfolded exactly how I wanted.
She simply watched.
Waiting.
Like she already knew something.
The feeling bothered me.
Because in the dream, I never felt stronger than her.
Not once.
Despite leading.
Despite controlling the race.
Despite having every advantage.
It felt like she was allowing me to do it.
As though she wanted me to believe I was in control.
The memory of the final corner surfaced.
I could still see it.
Still feel it.
The moment her expression changed.
The moment she attacked.
Not desperately.
Not recklessly.
Confidently.
Like she had been waiting for that exact moment from the beginning.
Then came the strangest part.
Her speed wasn't what frightened me.
Neither was her skill.
It was her eyes.
For a single instant
I felt like she knew me.
Not as an opponent.
Not as a rival.
Not as a famous racer.
She looked at me like someone reading a familiar book.
Like she already knew what I would do before I did it.
The thought sent a chill through me.
"...Ridiculous."
I pulled the blanket closer.
It was just a dream.
A strange dream.
Nothing more.
And yet...
I couldn't stop thinking about her.
That other Marzensky.
The one who wore a different uniform.
The one who ran differently.
The one who somehow felt older.
Not physically.
Something else.
The feeling was difficult to describe.
When I looked at her...
It felt like I was looking at a version of myself that had spent far longer on the track than any racer should.
A version of myself who had experienced things I couldn't even imagine.
I shook my head.
Tomorrow was my retirement race.
I should have been thinking about that.
Not some impossible dream.
Not some mysterious girl who shared my face.
Not some race that never happened.
"...Still."
My gaze drifted toward the window.
For some reason...
I couldn't forget her final expression.
That small smile.
Calm.
Certain.
Knowing.
As though she had expected the result from the very beginning.
"...Who are you?"
The question slipped out before I realized it.
No answer came.
Only silence.
Eventually I lay back down.
Tomorrow would be my final race.
Tomorrow I would retire.
And by then...
Surely I would have forgotten this strange dream.
Yet as sleep slowly returned, one thought refused to leave.
If she really existed...
I wasn't sure I would want to race her again.