To jiro McQueen, every day felt colorless and bland.
Even today’s victory brought only a fleeting distraction from her boredom.
Having chanically completed her Winner’s Stage routine, the jiro heiress now gazed silently at the night sky on her way ho—as if she could sohow peer through the darkness to find the person who constantly occupied her thoughts.
Ruka-nee-san, what are you doing right now?
Everyone says that reincarnation isn’t real, that you’ve already returned to the Three Goddesses. Yet, sohow, I can’t help feeling you’re still sowhere in this world.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I still believe.
If it’s true, then why haven’t you returned to my side yet? Is it because you haven’t rembered us yet?
But if you have rembered, then why aren’t you here? My performance today wasn’t bad, was it? I’ve tried so hard to win every single race.
I’ve been working so hard, harder than anyone...
McQueen recalled each passing day since Twilight Song had departed this world at the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.
Since then, her entire world had lost its color.
Though the jiro family was large, Twilight Song had always been special among them.
At least, she was special to McQueen.
It wasn’t just due to her unmatched strength as an Uma Musu. More importantly, it was because of her gentle patience and kindness—like those tis when she’d clumsily attempt baking treats for McQueen.
Admittedly, those treats always tasted... peculiar. Anyone could tell they were clearly the failures of a beginner. But even so, McQueen had always eagerly anticipated them.
She still did, even now, when that anticipation could no longer be fulfilled.
What else could she say?
She and Ruka-nee-san had made a promise. McQueen had sworn that Ruka would witness every mont—her races, her growth—and then...
Ruka would wait atop the world for McQueen to challenge her.
But...
Ruka-nee-san, you liar.
McQueen clenched her fists unconsciously, not from anger, but from unbearable pain.
Why, Ruka-nee-san? Why didn’t you tell earlier? If only I’d known sooner, I could’ve...
No, calm down. It’s okay, Ruka-nee-san. I know you’re watching from sowhere. Are you looking down from the heavens, or perhaps from the stands? I’ll keep running. I’ll never stop.
If the original jiro McQueen had nearly lost her reason to run, the current public discourse had forced her to find a new purpose.
The way Japan treated Twilight Song’s legacy was simply disgraceful.
As the jiro family’s current best hope to change public perception, McQueen saw it as her undeniable responsibility—one she would never shirk.
She would use her own strength to prove the strength of jiro Manor, to prove Twilight Song’s greatness. For that, she’d double, triple, quadruple her efforts.
She’d even abandoned her beloved desserts for that goal.
Ah, desserts. She truly missed them. Her first genuine interaction with Ruka-nee-san had been that evening, hadn’t it? The night when Ramonu-nee-san sent her to deliver a cake and a ssage.
Next ti, when she raced overseas, she’d bring a cake to see Ruka-nee-san again.
McQueen hadn’t visited Paris since then—not even once. Because when she finally returned, she refused to do so as a re tourist.
She’d return there as a competitor, issuing a silent challenge to Twilight Song.
"Oh? That’s quite a determined face. Already looking forward to your next race, McQueen?"
As the lilac-haired Uma Musu walked quietly, a phantom only she could see suddenly appeared beside her, matching her step-for-step along the way ho.
McQueen inevitably glanced at this face she’d seen countless tis in her dreams. Gathering every ounce of willpower, she forced herself calm before finally asking the question she’d wondered countless tis before.
"You... aren’t Ruka-nee-san, are you?"
She absolutely couldn’t be. The Twilight Song McQueen rembered was gentle, patient—soone who stayed silent during race disputes, almost like a plant quietly photosynthesizing in her own space. Unless called upon, she rarely made unnecessary moves.
Yet, this phantom beside her was completely different.
She was almost flighty by comparison.
In short, there was no way this phantom could truly be Twilight Song.
"Huh? What are you saying, McQueen? I am Ruka, you know."
To prove her point, "Ruka" quickened her pace, stepping ahead of McQueen. She walked backwards, staring intently into McQueen’s eyes.
Look closely. Here I am—the face, the voice, even the strength of Twilight Song. How can you say I’m not Twilight Song?
"No. You are not Twilight Song."
McQueen’s tone was firm and unwavering. Perhaps part of her wanted to surrender to this strange imitation—a Ruka-nee-san just for alone wouldn’t be so bad, right?—a version existing only in her world. aning, if McQueen accepted it, she could have Twilight Song entirely to herself.
But McQueen rejected such thoughts outright. She refused to deceive herself.
This person in front of her was rely a pale imitation. She might have so connection, but she absolutely wasn’t Twilight Song.
If she wasn’t, then she wouldn’t accept it.
A substitute? Perhaps it could temporarily quench her thirst in a mont of weakness. But to beco addicted to sothing like this was too pathetic.
jiro McQueen knew very well—she was soone aiming to challenge the legend atop the world. She couldn’t afford such weakness.
At this point, her mind was filled with nothing but racing, the urge to surpass Twilight Song—there was no room for anything else.
"Tch—how cold-hearted. But even if you deny it, I’m still the Ruka who’s been by your side the longest."
The black-clad phantom flicked her silver-white hair—so different from the image McQueen rembered—and jogged ahead, deliberately blocking McQueen’s path.
"Though you’re right, I probably can’t be called the real Twilight Song. Hmm... from now on, if you need to call sothing, just call Phantom Ruka."
"...Understood."
Good.
Phantom Ruka shook her head, her unruly hair bouncing slightly, and silently resud following beside McQueen.
Actually, she’d hidden sothing important from McQueen just now.
During today’s race, Phantom Ruka had sensed a shocked gaze in the crowd—a gaze that revealed a truth known only to her.
The bastard who abandoned ... So you’ve co back. You’d better be ready for my revenge.
I’ll prove it to you—
Twilight Song...!
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