In the Team Spica clubroom that morning, being sat next to by Yaeno Muteki in such a possive manner while feeling the curious, ambiguous, or knowing gazes from all directions, Myriad Dreams felt like she was sitting on pins and needles.
The heat in her face hadn't fully subsided even once.
She tried to quietly pull her hand away, only to be gripped even tighter by Yaeno Muteki, receiving a warning glance in return.
'Sigh... whatever, resistance is futile...'
Myriad Dreams finally chose to give up, dejectedly letting Muteki hold her hand.
The little version of herself in her mind was already so embarrassed she was digging out a second Tracen Academy with her toes.
She finally managed to endure until lunch break when Trainer Okino announced dismissal.
Myriad Dreams broke free from Yaeno Muteki's hand almost instantly (this time, Muteki didn't persist, only giving her a meaningful look) and, using "needing some fresh air" as an excuse, quickly slipped out of the clubroom.
She wandered aimlessly around the academy, trying to clear her cluttered mind.
However, a greater worry soon replaced the previous embarrassment, reoccupying her thoughts: The Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
'The attribute gap is just too large...'
She sighed inwardly while instinctively chewing on her gum.
'The system's calculated win rate is less than 10%... How am I supposed to play this? Do I really have to rely on luck?'
She could already see the tragic image of herself at the Longchamp Racecourse, being easily overtaken and ruthlessly crushed by those European monsters whose average attributes exceeded 1,000.
A long, sorrowful sigh involuntarily escaped her lips.
Just then, a somewhat familiar, slightly lazy yet bright voice came from not far away:
"One strawberry-milk flavored ice cream, please. Thanks!"
Myriad Dreams instinctively turned her head and saw an Uma Musume with twin tails standing at the entrance of the convenience store.
It was Marvelous Sunday.
She was taking a pink-and-white ice cream with a satisfied smile on her face.
Feeling bored, Myriad Dreams walked up to say hello: "Sunday, good afternoon."
Marvelous Sunday turned around at the sound.
Seeing it was Myriad Dreams, she first flashed a smile, then seemed to remember something.
She looked around warily, and only after confirming that a certain brown-haired figure hadn't appeared in her line of sight did she visibly relax and pat her chest.
"It's Myriad Dreams. Good afternoon. Thank goodness... that 'bodyguard' isn't here."
She noticed the constant chewing motion of Myriad Dreams's mouth and that familiar minty scent, and couldn't help but sigh helplessly.
"You really are... as fond of gum as always. I see you chewing it almost every time we meet."
Myriad Dreams gave an embarrassed smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm used to it. It helps me relax a bit."
She asked casually, "How about you? How have you been lately?"
"Not bad, same as usual."
Marvelous Sunday took a lick of her ice cream, feeling the cold sweetness melt on the tip of her tongue.
She then studied Myriad Dreams's face closely, keenly catching the lingering cloud of worry between her brows.
"But what about you? Why the long face? You look even more troubled than when you faced Silver Charm."
"I heard, you know— you got a slot for the Arc de Triomphe! That's simply marvelous! So why are you so gloomy?"
Having her thoughts read, Myriad Dreams's expression slumped.
She blew a bubble forcefully, sucked it back in with a pop, and said weakly, "That's exactly why I'm worried... It's the Arc de Triomphe! Do you know what kind of monsters participate there? I feel like with my current strength, I'm just destined to be background scenery..."
Listening to her complaints, Marvelous Sunday took another thoughtful lick of her ice cream, a flash of realization crossing her ice-blue eyes.
After thinking for a moment, she spoke up.
"The strength gap... is indeed an issue. But, Myriad Dreams, your greatest advantage has always been your performance on the day, hasn't it?"
She pointed to her own head.
"What's in here, along with your incredible Zone and adaptability, is the key to how you've created miracles time and again. The characteristics of the Longchamp track, the running habits of your opponents... all of these can be studied in advance."
"If your raw strength isn't enough, use tactics and your Zone to make up for it."
She looked at Myriad Dreams, her tone encouraging.
"Don't forget, you're the one who just conquered America on unfamiliar dirt. Turf is still more familiar than completely foreign dirt, right? Bring back that spirit you had then!"
Marvelous Sunday's words were like a ray of light piercing through the fog in Myriad Dreams's heart.
It was true, she seemed to have become too dependent on the system's data calculations, forgetting that she herself was an existence that never played by the rules.
'Tactics... Zone... Adaptation...'
The rhythm of Myriad Dreams's chewing slowed down as the light of contemplation returned to her eyes.
Perhaps she really shouldn't be defeated before the fight even started?
"Thank you, Sunday."
Myriad Dreams thanked her sincerely. "I think... I know where to start working now."
Marvelous Sunday smiled and shook her nearly finished ice cream.
"You're welcome! After all, seeing you run on the world's highest stage is a very inspiring thing for us too!"
After parting ways with Marvelous Sunday, Myriad Dreams felt the weight in her heart lighten significantly.
She was still chewing her gum, but her steps had become firm.
The attribute gap was an objective reality, but racing had never been a simple numbers game.
Myriad Dreams now roughly knew what she had to do, and that was to hone her Zone!