Chapter 28

“Why are we even here if we aren’t even going to set up any races?” I asked. Friday night had come again. Unfortunately, my talk with my brother had planted a seed of wariness about the general meet. I just wanted to race. Any other time spent at the meet could inevitably slide toward something that Taejun wouldn’t like. Now I knew his ever vigilant eyes had joined the thousands on LC’s stream.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but we actually hardly race,” Sungmin said.

“Then what do you do all night here?” I complained.

Eunsoo, absorbed into his phone, began to answer. “Mostly look at cars, talk about cars–”

“The boys come to measure dicks with their cars,” Sunhee interrupted. I burst into surprised laughter at Sunhee’s unexpected comment, and everyone else joined in.

After the laughter died down, Ryusuke said, “Well, it’s not just that. We also come here to trade or sell cars or car parts. That’s actually a pretty big part. There’s a lot of nice aftermarket parts that are hard to obtain, and meets like this are a great place to find them. Or at least people who know where to find them.”

“You shouldn’t have taken that Nissan Z when Comet offered it,” Eunsoo commented. “The thing is basically stock. If you had taken his GTR, you could have parted that baby out. Rumor has it that Comet’s spent tens of millions on parts for it.” He rubbed his hands maliciously.

“I needed a car,” I protested. But what he had said had definitely got my interest. “Wouldn’t it be better to sell the whole car as is, instead of piece by piece?”

“Oh little sprout,” Sunhee said. “The moment you drive a car out of a dealership, its value is halved. Cars are a depreciating asset. It’s even worse for cars that have been tuned up. Every custom piece you put in takes a chunk out of its total value, even if the part’s expensive. The average person doesn’t know how to maintain specialty aftermarket part replacements. Tuners want to customize their own cars.”

I was astonished to hear the usually quiet Sunhee speaking so knowledgeably about this subject.

“She used to sell cars,” Sungmin said, noting my surprised expression. “Then, she sold the ones she won in races.”

“She’s notorious,” Eunsoo chuckled. “No one races her anymore because they know she only races for pinks.”

My mind was blown. I felt a little ashamed for only ever thinking of her as Sungmin’s arm candy. I could tell Sunhee was enjoying my reactions. She continued.

“Your old boss, Do Hoon-ssi, was the one with an eye for value. He always sniffed out the best cars to part out. And he knew what buyers wanted what. He made a lot of commission money facilitating sales for us. And a few other gangs. Now though he just builds cars on commission for guys who don’t know cars but want to look like they do. Bet you gave him a pretty good scare when you drove off with that Eclipse. His client would have gone ballistic.”

She looked gleeful at how thunderstruck I was.

“Anyways, take it from me, if you ever race for pinks again, part out that car. Sell all the custom pieces. Then put it back to stock and sell it to a regular. Jung Hana’s our go to now. She’ll help you sell the pieces. But she’s neutral, she won’t tell you what cars have what.”

“It’s what got Do Hoon-ssi into trouble,” Sungmin added.

“What happened?!” I had to know now.

“Some of his victims found out he was telling racers what cars to target. He had to pay them off so they wouldn’t turn him into mincemeat. Now he’s hiding out in Outer Seoul. Don’t know how he’s keeping up with business out there.”

“Bet you didn’t know that,” Sunhee said.

I really didn’t.

The talk on Friday night had definitely given me a few ideas. If LC wasn’t going to organize any races until after the tournament had ended, I just needed to find someone willing to race for pinks. But that plan had two major problems. The first problem was, anyone who was willing to race at all needed their cars for the tournament. Second, I didn’t know which car would be worthwhile to sell.

I was so confident in myself I didn’t even consider the possibility that I could be the loser standing carless at the end of the night.

“Uh oh,” Eunsoo said. “Sunhee-ya, looks like you’ve given young Jae some bad ideas.” I looked at him, wondering how he knew I was thinking about.

“You’ve been staring at everyone else’s cars like a starving wolf,” he laughed.

“You took a car in your second race, Jae. No one will take up a challenge from you now,” Ryu said.

“Well, what else can I do?” I said irritably. It had only been a few days since I had started job searching, but even with Ryu and Eunsoo’s help with my resume, I hadn’t heard back from anywhere. “I can’t wait until the end of the tournament.”

I was safe for the week, but I needed at least three and a half million won just for the interest next week.

“We’ll think of something,” Ryu promised.

On Monday, LC called us in for the second part of the race. The track for today gave me pause. We had driven far out of Inner Seoul to the very edge of Outer Seoul. I wasn’t actually even sure if this was considered Seoul at all.

We had driven up to a remote mountain road. The many sharp hairpin turns made it look for all the world like a giant, dark snake slithering up the mountainside.

I’d never driven on mountain roads like these before.

Sungmin and Ryusuke were discussing strategy. The advantage of Ryusuke’s hypercar was nullified here. The fastest way around those 180 degree hairpin turns would be to slide through them by popping the handbrake. The modern, luxury Tsunami didn’t have a manual handbrake. It had an electronic parking brake system. Even worse, it was an all-wheel drive. You’d think the stability of a AWD is what you would want on these mountain roads. But those handbrake turns skirted the edge of stability as the driver purposefully oversteered.

Sungmin’s WRX was also an all-wheel drive, but at least Subaru drivetrains favored the back wheels.

It sounded so simple when Sungmin explained it to me. When I had told him that I had never drifted before, he had laughed at me and told me I watched too much Initial D. (I’d never actually watched it?) As stylish as a full drift was, a long spin meant a longer turn. The handbrake turns we needed to make today weren’t full drifts, but even so, I had never attempted these kinds of maneuvers before.

The track had the most turns in the middle section of the relay. That was when the road whipped back and forth in its climb to match the mountain’s elevation. So unlike last time, the speed of the second racer, not the third, would be the tiebreaker. Eunsoo’s car and his experience meant he was the best pick for that section.

Sungmin ended up putting me in the anchor car. It wasn’t a straight track, so pure acceleration and speed had to be more controlled. Hitting a top speed wasn’t as important. It wasn’t realistic to charge down these roads at 250km/h.

“You have enough to focus on already on these roads. At least in the last position, you won’t have to worry about controlling your car for the pass-off,” Sungmin reasoned. Even so, I could feel the pressure of being the anchor of tonight’s race.

Even worse, we were the first to race tonight.

“Hey, guys, just wanted to wish you all good luck in your race.” The unexpected sound of someone unfamiliar surprised me from my brooding thoughts, and I flinched hard, startling back the person who had startled me first.

I was glad I was wearing a mask today because my jaw absolutely dropped at the sight of the owner of that voice. The dude standing before me now looked like he had straight up floated down from heaven. He had all the stature and carriage of a demi-god. Despite how he towered over everyone, his warm, friendly smile lit up his face and the area all around us. It was infectious. I couldn’t help smiling back.

So pure. So angelic.

So what the hell was this guy doing at an unsanctioned, borderline illegal street race?!

“Thanks. You too, Min,” Sungmin said. He dapped up the newcomer. Watching that guy dapping up like a seasoned bro was a surreal experience.

“I haven’t met your new guy yet, Han Sungmin-sunbae.” He even spoke with perfect, polite manners.

“I’m Baek Jaehyun,” I said.

“San Minso,” he said, extending his hand out for a shake.

“You drive well,” he said. “I’d like to race you sometime after this tournament.”

“Maybe don’t,” Eunsoo cut in. “Jae’s looking to race for pinks.”

Minso laughed good natured-ly. “I’ll just convince him otherwise. But at any rate, welcome to the circuit, Baek Jaehyun.”

After he left, I was a little shaken up.

“Why was that guy so nice?” I said as we watched him walk back to his group.

“He’s the ultimate hunnam, isn’t he?” Eunsoo said dreamily. “He’s so perfect I want to hate him but he’s just so nice.”

“There’s not a single person who hates him in the whole meet. He’s like a brother to everyone, even rival teams,” Ryusuke added.

It was true. Even though we’d only had a short conversation, I already felt partial to his caring and kind nature.

I wish I had had time to practice the handbrake turn before the race, but going first meant I didn’t. Instead all I could do was anxiously watch from my start position and try to learn what Eunsoo and Sungmin did by watching. If only they had an in-car cam too. Maybe I should pitch that to LC.

The flag girl wasn’t Seol-hee today, but I hadn’t seen her since last Wednesday. She hadn’t shown up with Sunhee to the meets last weekend. I don’t know if she was still mad at me, but I was a little relieved that she hadn’t been around. I had a few too many other things to worry about right now.

It was a good thing I wasn’t the start car today because my thoughts about Seol-hee had distracted me from the flag drop. Sungmin was already speeding along by the time my attention returned to the screen in front of me.

Last week’s race was all about speed and acceleration. But I could see that Sungmin wasn’t trying to push his car to top speed at all. The roads weren’t straight even in the sections between the turns, so he needed to keep his car at a speed that could be controlled as he rode the weaving road.

There was a guardrail, but at a high speed, if you lost control of your car, that guardrail wouldn’t stop you from flipping over off the roads.

Sungmin was approaching the first hairpin in his stretch now. I watched the screen with utmost focus, afraid to even blink less I missed it.

Right as he entered the turn, his momentum choked. There was no audio on the feed but I could imagine those tires squealing as he hit the brake. He turned, and the backside of his car swung out wide as the front of his car kissed the very inner corner of the turn. A moment later, his car slid through the arc of the hairpin, almost to the far edge of the handrail. And then he was shooting forward again.

As thrilling as that had been to watch, I hadn’t learned anything about the finite timings of the technique. I had no idea what Sungmin was doing inside his car. The thought caused another wave of nervous energy to prickle along my skin.

The forty second section times of last race had more than doubled this time around. But because the speed was so much more controlled, the pass-off wasn’t as nerve wracking as it had been last time. Each pass-off point was situated a safe distance away from the last hairpin turn of the previous driver, so the previous driver had already decelerated significantly.

Sungmin’s last turn was so clean he basically landed right at the end of Eunsoo’s bumper. One last nudge on the throttle, and he made contact with the BRZ, and then it was Eunsoo shooting forward.

Sungmin had four hairpins in his stretch. Eunsoo had six.

Maybe I hadn’t learned anything from Sungmin, but I could learn something from Eunsoo. His car was also RWD like mine.

I was watching anxiously as he charged toward the first of his many challenges. Go Eunsoo, I cheered him on silently.

Like Sungmin, he braked sharply just as he entered the run. I saw his front tires peek out from underneath his car as he turned hard. Again, the back of his car swung out wide while the front remained almost fixed in place. It slid just across the inner angle of the turn, and then Eunsoo released the brakes instantly. The back wheels spun back into life and he shot out of the turn, losing almost no time at all.

I heard him whooping with exhilaration over the earpiece.

“Nice turn!” Ryusuke affirmed.

“Haven’t done that in ages,” Eunsoo said happily.

Sungmin was a great driver of course, but it was clear why the RWD had an advantage on these turns. Eunsoo could more easily break traction on the back wheels while keeping the front ones spinning through the turn. Sungmin had to clutch kick his car to break that traction, and that was just one extra step that needed to be factored into the timing of all the other actions he needed to take.

Eunsoo seemed to just glide through those turns as easily as a bird changing direction mid flight. Each time his car kissed the very inner edge of the road, and the moment the back side of his car aligned right with the exit angle, he whipped his steering wheel back straight and shot out of it like a cannonball.

Despite having so many hairpin turns to maneuver through, he was quicker than Sungmin. I could hear him now on the road above me.

This last turn of his was my only chance to see and hear the turn for myself. It was the only hint I had as to the technique’s timing.

Even though I should have been looking forward, getting ready, I turned around to look. I kept my foot on the throttle.

As expected, the moment the BRZ entered the turn, the tires screeched as Eunsoo slammed his brakes. I watched, taking in the entire scene. The nose of his car peeked out over the inner corner of the turn, and then his engine roared thunderously as he hit his accelerator. And then he slid.

It was only for a moment, but I understood now.

I snapped my gaze back to the road in front. A moment after Eunsoo crested through the turn, my Z and I jerked sharply as Eunsoo’s BRZ made contact. It wasn’t the cleanest of pass-offs. I was sure to have a dent in my bumper now.

I’d think about that later.

My foot had already been nudging the throttle. I knew my Z well now, and just from sound alone I heard it rev up to where it needed to be, and then I released it.

We shot forward.

Ryusuke must have been just as concerned as I was because he reminded me, “Remember, Jae, not too fast. Especially entering the turns!”

“I know,” I said through my teeth. Even though his well-intentioned reminder had irritated me, it was good that he had. Just the initial launch had me already craving to go as fast as possible.

But even so, the waviness of the road before me made for a thrilling ride. I was well over the recommended speed for this road, and my Z fought me as I tried to follow the road. Going downhill, and going fast, it wanted to just zoom straight forward. I had to gently ease every little correction I had to make on the stiff steering wheel.

“Jae, the first turn is coming and you’re going way too fast,” Ryu warned in my ear.

Even though I hadn’t been stepping hard on the throttle, the car was picking up speed just because of the slope. Being told what to do made me want to push back. I’ll be fine, I thought rebelliously to myself.

“Dammit, listen to him and brake!” Sungmin growled.

“Fine,” I snapped. I hit the brake as I approached the first turn.

“Not that much!”

First I was going too fast, now I was going too slow?!

I had no time to be frustrated. I had entered the turn.

“Hit the throttle and the handbrake at the same time, now!”

I stepped down on the throttle and hit the handbrake. With so much adrenaline flowing through me, time seemed to be moving at half speed. My Z’s engine let out a loud, appreciative growl as the throttle told it was go time. The back wheels wanted to surge forward but the front wheels were solidly locked by the combined force of the handbrake and the brake. The disconnect between the two halves jerked the car sharply, and I felt it lose tension.

I jerked the steering wheel hard.

I only needed the handbrake for a second to solidify that loss of tension in the back wheels. I let it go as soon as we started sliding.

I made a mistake.

I hadn’t realized just how much throttle you had to give the car to balance its momentum. I knew it was a lot, but I gave it too much.

The back wheels regained their tension before the front wheels did. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

My heart dropped as I felt myself losing control of the oversteer. The back end of my car whipped around in a wide arc, forcibly pulling the front of the car along with it. We were spinning out.

Fear pierced me and I jerked my foot off the throttle and slammed hard on the brake and the clutch, desperately trying to choke off the spin before we went flying off the road. Even with the brake and clutch, the wild, uncontrolled momentum carried us hard into the guardrail, slamming us to a stop.

I gasped. I had barely cut off the speed of my car enough to keep up from hurtling completely off the road.

It seemed like everyone was shouting in my ear.

“I’m fine,” I panted, too dizzy with shock to make out what was being said.

“Stop now, Jae. We’ll tap out,” Sungmin said.

I absolutely couldn’t allow that to happen. I revved my Nissan Z back to life. Despite the crash it could still continue. And so could I.

The shouts of protest were distracting. I ripped out the earpiece and threw it to the side.

Every second counted. I had wasted too many already. Work with me, I begged my Z. I hurtled down the road at a dangerous speed. I don’t know if it was the additional shot of adrenaline from the spin out or something but it no longer felt like my Z was fighting my every adjustment. We seemed to work together seamlessly now, man and machine, like we were one entity.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake the next turn.

I braced myself as my car and I approached it. Without the distractions of people telling me what to do, I could focus now on what I was feeling through the vibrations of the car I was riding.

Brake.

We braked as we entered the turn. I was so focused I didn’t even hear the sounds of the tires protesting.

Spin the wheel hard!

I jerked the wheel hard even as my foot pressed down on the accelerator.

Throttle.

The back of the car shivered as more power was fed to the rear wheels. Not too much, or else we’d spin out again. Not too little, or we’d understeer and not make it through the turn.

Handbrake.

Just a touch. I popped it and my Z flinched like a surprised beast. The car trembled as the tires lost their purchase for a moment and we began sliding.

Now focus on that RPM!

I could feel it now, the delicate balance between over and under. After my first failure, I was expecting to have to press a lot less. But it still required a good amount. Feel it through the car. Feel it through the tension of the controls, the feedback from the drivetrain below, the vibrations as we controlled our loss of control.

It’s about 80% throttle. The realization arced through me like lightning. I had found the balance!

Lost in the moment, I had let us slide a touch too much. The back end was coming back out too far now. I eased off the throttle and applied more steering lock.

Then I took my foot off the brake, yanked the wheel straight, and we launched out of the turn.

“YES!” I shouted to no one in particular. My Z seemed to rumble back at me in amusement.

It hadn’t been as clean as Eunsoo’s turns. But I had three more to go, and if I could do it once, I could do it again. And I could only get better from there.

It was with excitement that I approached the next turn. I repeated the steps I had done before. I understood the timing now, and the power we needed. This turn was steeper than the one before, but I could feel what my car needed now, and I knew how to adjust. Just a little less throttle, and we had spun cleanly out of the turn again.

My heart was rejoicing now. The Z and I were perfectly in tune now. My nervousness was gone.

I had lost a lot of time on the first turn and I was determined to make as much of it back as possible.

The next turn was even cleaner than the last two. The front wheels danced on the edge of the road, and we hadn’t even needed the handbrake. Just a sharp slam down on the throttle was all we had needed to oversteer.

As soon as the back stepped out we were moving forward again. One last turn, then it was just a straight shot to the finish line! I could feel the eagerness of my car for that last stretch.

It wasn’t the cleanest turn, but I didn’t care. Now came my favorite part.

I loved hearing the thunderous roar my Nissan made when I gave it full throttle. Was it idiotic to go full throttle on a mountain road?

Absolutely.

We blurred across the finish line and immediately I reigned in the Z. We screeched to a stop. Lightheaded from exhilaration and spent fear, I opened the door and immediately tumbled to the ground with a laugh. This far out from Inner Seoul, the night sky could have been so beautiful, if not for the giant, loud drone just above. Too giddy to even be upset, I just laughed and waved enthusiastically as I lay there, looking up.