Cassandra was still sitting beside Leon, but her eyes were distant. Her food sat untouched. Leon glanced at her and spoke quietly,
"If you're uncomfortable sitting here, you don't have to force it."
Cassandra let out a short sigh.
"It's not that."
Leon leaned back casually.
"Still thinking about Robinson?"
She stayed silent for a moment, fingers tightening around her plastic spoon.
"I'm just... pissed off," she finally said.
"He showed up like he had the right to demand answers, like everything had to be settled right then and there."
Leon smirked.
"Because he still thinks you're his."
Cassandra turned her gaze to Leon.
"I'm not anybody's."
Then she stood up, leaving her untouched tray behind.
Leon looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"To a place that's not full of crap," she muttered and walked away.
A few minutes later...
Robinson was back at his table with Daryl and Zashiro. They were laughing, trying to change the subject. Suddenly, Cassandra walked over.
The group went silent.
She looked directly at Robinson.
"You busy?"
Robinson tilted his head.
"Depends... why?"
Without saying much, Cassandra dropped a piece of paper on the table — Robinson's math test sheet he forgot the day before.
"I found this in the teacher's lounge. You left it behind."
Robinson nodded slowly.
"Thanks."
Cassandra lingered a second longer. Then, in a low voice only Robinson and his friends could hear, she said,
"Next time you want to ask me something personal... don't do it in front of everyone. I've got pride too."
Robinson gave her a faint smile.
"Noted."
Cassandra gave a small nod and walked off — without so much as a glance at Leon.
Zashiro gaped.
"Okay... that was hotter than the race finals."
Daryl chuckled.
"Told you... romance between turbo engines is the loudest kind."
That afternoon, at a hidden training circuit on the outskirts of the city, the sound of roaring engines echoed through the air. Dust flew in all directions. Robinson was behind the wheel of a black-and-red Japanese sports car, pushing the vehicle hard, following Marcus's instructions from the side of the track, stopwatch in hand.
"Throttle… keep going… now take that sharp left… brake! But not too hard! There you go—that's the style!" Marcus shouted.
Robinson completed the lap and parked the car smoothly in front of Marcus and his girlfriend, who sat casually on the hood of another car.
Marcus clapped his hands.
"You're improving fast, man. Your style's getting sharper. It's like the racer blood in you just woke up."
Marcus's girlfriend smiled from a distance and called out,
"He might even be faster than you were in the beginning!"
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, don't compare—I'm a veteran."
They all laughed. Robinson got out of the car, pulling off his helmet, his hair messy and damp from sweat.
Marcus approached.
"You ever notice how Paul's been getting busier lately? I think he might be setting you up to follow in his footsteps… become an agent."
Robinson let out a breath and tapped the helmet in his hand.
"Me?" he said with a smirk.
"I just wanna do street races… a little illegal betting… maybe meet a hot girl or two." His tone was clearly joking.
Marcus's girlfriend laughed.
"If every agent talked like you, Zero Divide would've won already."
Marcus chuckled.
"Yeah, keep dreaming, man. You've got the skills, but that smooth talk won't cut it in the field."
Suddenly, Robinson's phone buzzed. He looked down. It was a call from "Mom."
"Yeah, Mom?"
Her gentle voice came through the speaker, a little quiet.
"Sweetheart, come home a bit early tonight… your grandfather said there's something important he wants to talk about."
Robinson nodded.
"Okay, Mom. I'll head back after training."
After ending the call, Robinson looked up at the golden-orange sky of the early evening.
Marcus patted him on the back.
"Enjoy these moments, bro. You never know when life's gonna flip on you."
Robinson looked back at his car, then the track.
"I think I'm already halfway through the flip."
In the heart of New York City, neon lights reflected off the restaurant windows. Daryl and Zashiro sat at a booth near the glass, half-finished meals in front of them.
Daryl scrolled through his phone, then showed it to Zashiro.
"Check this out, Shiro. There's a race tonight. Not at the circuit... street racing. Midnight, South Harbor. Word is, some heavy hitters are joining."
Zashiro leaned back in his seat.
"My car just got out of the shop. The engine's still adjusting. I'm not ready."
Daryl took a sip of his drink and smirked.
"Then that leaves one name. One guy I can count on."
He tapped on his screen.
"Robinson. And tomorrow's the weekend. No excuses."
Meanwhile, at Robinson's house, the evening was calm and warm.
Robinson sat at the dinner table with his grandfather, while his mother prepared food in the kitchen. The scent of spices filled the air. It was almost 8 PM.
Suddenly, the front door opened.
Paul walked in, wearing a clean dark shirt and holding a small folder.
"Sorry I'm late," he said as he greeted his father and sat down.
The grandfather looked at Paul, then turned to Robinson.
"I think it's time Robinson moves to Japan. Zero Divide's done for now… even Vance is locked up. It's safer over there."
Robinson stayed quiet. His mother didn't say anything either.
Paul replied calmly,
"It's not that simple, Dad. Japan could be even more dangerous. A lot of Zero Divide's original roots are there. They might think Robinson inherited the secrets I stole when I infiltrated them."
His grandfather raised an eyebrow.
"So you're saying he should stay hidden?"
Paul looked directly at Robinson.
"Not hidden… prepared. If he's serious about this world, he needs more than guts. He needs skills, control, and a clear choice."
Robinson glanced between them, then looked at his mom. The hum of a motorcycle echoed from the street. Suddenly, his phone buzzed.
A message from Daryl:
"You in tonight? Street race. South Harbor. Midnight. Don't back out." 🚦🔥
He stared at the screen. Then slowly placed the phone down and asked,
"If I hit the streets tonight… will you all still see me as just a high school kid?"
Paul gave him a long look. His grandfather raised an eyebrow. His mom turned from the stove, silent.
Paul finally answered,
"If you come back tonight with a win… maybe you're not just a high school kid anymore."