"Keep up the good work," Dominik said, his voice muffled behind his helmet.
He stood with Alex Albon in the bustling pit lane. The cameras were zooming in on the two blue-suited drivers, desperate for a soundbite, but the visors offered privacy.
"You too," Albon replied. "Let's get both cars into Q3."
They fist-bumped and retreated to their cockpits.
Inside the garage, Dominik climbed into the FW44. He checked his hydration tube.
"Water bottle, please," he asked the physio.
The camera panned to him again. Dominik turned his head slightly, avoiding the direct gaze of the lens. He still wasn't used to the intrusion. It felt like being a zoo animal.
In Budapest, thousands of fans were fighting sleep to watch the late-night broadcast. The commentators on the Hungarian M4 Sport channel were screaming into their microphones, keeping the energy high.
"Dominik pulled Albon into Q2 single-handedly in Q1. The Magyar boy is flying! Can he do it again?"
In Seoul, Yeji had fallen asleep. She was curled up on her bed, still wearing her oversized hoodie, the projector displaying the Williams garage on her bedroom wall.
Q2 Begins.
"Green light. Car release," Gaëtan Jego ordered.
The FW44 clunked into first gear. Dominik rolled out, queuing behind George Russell's Mercedes.
"You can push hard, Dominik. We have fresh Softs remaining," Gaëtan confirmed.
Dominik warmed his tires. Ahead, the times were already tumbling. Leclerc posted a 1:29.0, taking P1.
Dominik started his flying lap.
Sector 1: Purple. The car was singing.
Sector 2: Green.
He arrived at Turn 13, the banked hairpin. The battery was draining fast, pouring all its energy into the rear wheels.
He hugged the apex wall.
Distance to Wall: 2 cm.
The online forums erupted. He's kissing the concrete!
Dominik exited the corner, preparing to open the steering for the next complex.
Suddenly, a flash of papaya orange appeared on the racing line.
Daniel Ricciardo.
The McLaren was cruising on the outside kerb, right in the braking zone for the next corner. Ricciardo hadn't been warned by his team.
Dominik reacted instantly, swerving to the non-racing line to avoid a collision. He had to lift off the throttle completely.
"Blue Flag! Blue Flag!" Dominik shouted. "He blocked me! Massive block!"
Ricciardo swerved late, realizing his mistake, but the damage was done. The lap was ruined.
"Box, Dominik," Gaëtan sighed. "Reset. We go again."
Dominik drove back to the pits, fuming. He checked the screens. Albon and Zhou were currently in the elimination zone.
"Relax," Gaëtan said soothingly. "Your first sector was purple. The pace is there. We have time."
5 Minutes Remaining.
The track was busy.
"Release," Gaëtan said.
Dominik went out on his final set of new Softs. He was warming them up, weaving aggressively.
"Traffic behind. Two Haas cars on push laps," Gaëtan warned.
Dominik moved aside, letting Kevin Magnussen and Mick Schumacher fly past.
He was preparing for his run. Albon was ahead of him on track.
Then, disaster.
RED FLAG.
"Red Flag! Box immediately! Slow down!" Gaëtan shouted, urgency in his voice.
Dominik lifted. "What happened?"
"Accident in Turn 12. It's big."
Dominik rounded the corner and saw it.
The concrete wall at Turn 12 was decimated. Debris littered the track like confetti—shards of carbon fiber, suspension arms, and metal.
A Haas car—split in half—sat sideways on the track. It was Mick Schumacher.
Dominik felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach.
"F**k," he whispered. "That's... that's a huge one. Is he okay?"
"We don't know yet," Gaëtan replied somberly.
The entire paddock held its breath. Mick was the son of a legend, a popular, kind kid. The ambulance arrived. The medical car arrived.
Dominik parked in the pit lane. He jumped out and stared at the screens, watching the medical crew extract Mick.
When the news finally came—Mick is conscious and talking to his mother—a collective sigh of relief swept through the garage.
But the session was delayed. 20 minutes. 40 minutes. 50 minutes. The marshals had to sweep away the debris and rebuild the concrete barrier.
Q2 Resumes.
55 minutes later.
There were less than 5 minutes left on the clock.
Dominik had one shot. One lap to make Q3.
He strapped back in. The tire blankets came off.
"Listen to me," Gaëtan said. "We are going aggressive. Qualifying Mode. Max deployment."
Dominik rolled out.
Ahead of him, Alex Albon was waiting.
Albon knew he was unlikely to make Q3 with his current pace. So, he played the ultimate teammate.
"Alex is going to give you a tow," Gaëtan explained.
They started the lap in formation. Albon ahead, Dominik behind.
Sector 1:Albon punched a hole in the air. Dominik drove into the vacuum, gaining speed without using fuel or battery.
Turn 2: The front end bit hard. The understeer was gone.
Sector 2:Dominik was flying. He was two-tenths up on his personal best.
In the high-speed section (Turns 22-26), Dominik kept his foot pinned to the floor. The FW44 felt glued to the track.
Turn 27 (The Hairpin):
Albon exited the corner. Dominik was right on his gearbox.
They hit the main straight. Albon stayed straight, dragging Dominik along.
Dominik opened DRS.
The Williams rocketed forward, slingshotting past the timing line.
1:28.997.
The screen refreshed.
1. Perez
2. Leclerc
3. Sainz
4. Verstappen
5. CORVINUS
"YES!" Gaëtan yelled. "P5! You are in Q3!"
Albon crossed the line with a 1:30.xxx. He was eliminated in P13.
Zhou Guanyu finished P12, also out.
Dominik had survived the storm. He had survived the block. He had survived the red flag.
He was in the Top 10 shootout again.
ELIMINATED IN Q2:
11. Norris
12. Zhou
13. Albon
14. Ricciardo
15. Schumacher (Did not restart)
Dominik brought the car back, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline. He looked at the empty spot where Mick's car should have been.
"Get well soon, Mick," he whispered, before turning his focus to the final battle. Q3.