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Why do I even need to race?
The memory of posing the question was still vivid in my mind. Baekhyun had seemed contemplative as he straightened, focusing on me with some difficulty.
"First of all, the money," he had said, nonchalant, as if the staggering amount of pot money I'd get if I crossed the line first was nothing to him. "You can't leave without enough financial support; it's the essential ingredient for starting over. And it's not like you have a choice." He'd shrugged. "You'll be racing no matter what. Might as well make the most of it."
My hands tightened over the wheel as I recalled the conversation for the hundredth time that day. This was supposed to be my home court, but I felt jittery, like I'd consumed twenty times the required amount of caffeine.
Most people were only here for the punk-out money, which was understandable since most, if not all, of the racers were around my age, hovering someone in the transition from a teenager to an adult. Some we're just here for bragging rights, and since barely anyone was dumb enough to go for pink slips as the winning bet, everyone used the same cars, only rarely showing up with something like a mod or even a paint job.
By this time, I had been around the racers long enough to know that this was probably one of their plots. Maybe another trap, which was sort of stupid, since no self-respecting biker would fall for something as obvious as this.
Surprisingly, I wasn't scared. I didn't know if it was because of the familiar pressure of the car around me, but I felt strangely sanguine. No matter what happened out there on the track, something was going to happen today. What it would bring, I had no idea, but the idea of knowing something was abnormally comforting.
Police, or the 'blues' as the downtown racers called them, were probably not going to be a problem. I knew from having overheard a few conversations that they had lookouts positioned throughout the track, which was a back road running like a ribbon around the bar, going as far as the club before doubling back to the plaza. It wasn't a huge distance, but it only meant that you had even lesser time to catch up to those who surpassed you.
Even a double charge of juice wouldn't be of any help in that predicament.
Some cars were still dawdling, setting out lengths for the handicap since some models outshone the others by a good few years. There was Jinyoung in his Egoista, and Seulgi in her unmissable gold-plated Ferrari. Even Taehyung with his trademark smirk and spray-painted Nissan was in the race for the night.
The model I'd been 'lent' was a McLaren 720S. At this point, I wasn't even going to question how they'd gotten their hands on a powerful engine like this, but second-hand or not, it seemed relatively untouched. The dashboard looked like that of a newly-displayed car.
