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CHAPTER III "My hate and my love for you is infinite."
Seoul, South Korea , Y/N's room, 08:00 a.m.
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THE ROAR OF engines fills the air, a symphony of power and precision as the Formula 1 cars tear down the track, a blur of speed and color.
Among them, a sleek Mercedes, its black and silver livery glistening under the Italian sun, cuts through the air with predatory grace.
At its helm, Jeon Jungkook, for his lightning-fast starts and unparalleled speed on the straights.
As the race nears its climax, Jungkook's Mercedes is neck and neck with a vibrant orange McLaren, the two cars a study in speed and determination.
The Mercedes' V6 turbocharged engine roars, a beast unleashed, as Jungkook executes a daring maneuver, downshifting with precision as he approaches the Variante del Rettifilo , the car's carbon-fiber steering wheel vibrating under his expert hands.
The crowd holds its breath as the two cars enter the chicane, side by side. Jungkook's focus is ironclad, his eyes scanning the apex of the turn, calculating the precise moment to brake and then accelerate out of the curve.
The Mercedes' rear diffuser channels the air, optimizing downforce and allowing Jungkook to keep the throttle pinned to the floor as he exits the turn, the car's advanced aerodynamics slicing through the air like a knife.
The Italian commentators are on the edge of their seats, their voices a frenetic blend of excitement and disbelief as Jungkook pulls ahead of the McLaren, his mastery of the car and the track undeniable.
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