between the lines | p.js

chapter one

lights out

The morning sun burned gold across the pit lane, casting long shadows over rows of glinting cars. Seo Nari adjusted the collar of her racing suit, taking a deep breath. The scent of hot asphalt, burned rubber, and engine oil mingled in the air, invigorating her. Every nerve hummed with anticipation. Today was the day she would prove herself—not to the press, not to the veteran drivers who whispered about rookies who never lasted a season—but to herself.

Nari had always been ambitious. Born in Busan to a family of modest means, she had grown up around her father's small auto repair shop. The smell of motor oil and gasoline had been as normal to her as the taste of kimchi at dinner. While other kids played outside, she'd be under cars with her father, learning to distinguish the subtle differences between engines, the feel of a well-tuned tire, the way brake lines whispered when something was off. That early exposure had sparked a fascination with speed, mechanics, and control—elements she could manipulate, understand, and master.

But life had not always been easy. Her mother had passed when Nari was thirteen, leaving her with her father and the quiet pressure of living up to a family she loved but did not fully understand. Racing had become her escape, her outlet, the one place where skill and instinct mattered more than circumstance. Over the years, she had worked tirelessly, scrimping for every hour on a simulator, every small local race, until she earned her way into this professional circuit. Every setback—every crash, every failed qualification—had taught her precision, patience, and persistence.

And now, at twenty-two, she stood here, a young woman with sharp features softened by delicate, almost porcelain skin, large brown eyes that flicked constantly around her surroundings, and dark hair that caught the sunlight when she tucked it back beneath her helmet. She was petite, no taller than 5'4", but she moved with a confidence and athleticism that belied her size. People often underestimated her, mistaking her calm, composed exterior for fragility. But those who really knew her—or who had ever shared the track with her—learned quickly that she was unyielding, determined, and capable of remarkable focus under pressure.

She ran her hands along the sleek curves of her black-and-gold car, feeling the familiar vibration and weight beneath her fingertips. The car had been her companion for months of preparation—every calibration, every adjustment, every modification a testament to her diligence. Racing wasn't just about speed; it was about understanding the machine as an extension of yourself, about making split-second decisions that balanced instinct and intellect.

Her gaze flicked across the paddock. The scene was alive with energy: crew members darting to adjust aerodynamics, mechanics shouting measurements, and the distant roar of engines preparing to warm up. And then, her eyes landed on him.

Park Jisung.

She had heard of him countless times before, in whispers and in media reports. A master of the apex, precise, untouchable, and infuriatingly confident. Videos of his laps had circulated online, showing his ability to anticipate corners and dominate competitors effortlessly. He had a reputation that made rookies like her respect him from afar—and maybe even fear him. But seeing him in person was different. He leaned against his car with an effortless calm, surveying the paddock as if he belonged entirely to it. There was a quiet intensity to him, the kind that made everything around him feel measured, contained, almost in slow motion.

Her pulse quickened. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. He was a competitor. That was all. Admiration or distraction would cost her here.

"Focus," she muttered under her breath, tightening her gloves. She reminded herself of her own rules: anticipate, calculate, execute. Emotions had no place on the track, not even curiosity about a rival.

Her mechanics approached for the final checks. "Tire pressure's set, brakes are optimal, fuel lines stable," one said, the voice precise, practiced. Nari nodded, absorbing every word while scanning her surroundings. She took mental notes of every detail: track temperature, sunlight angles, minor variations in asphalt, and the distance of other cars.

Yet her mind kept drifting back to Jisung. She couldn't help it. There was something about the quiet precision of his movements, the subtle tilt of his body, the way his presence seemed to command the pit lane without a word. It was unsettling—and intriguing.

The first practice session was called. Nari climbed into the cockpit, adjusting her helmet, securing her harness, and feeling the familiar vibration of the engine hum through her body. The world narrowed to the tactile connection between her hands, her feet, and the car. Tires gripped the asphalt, brakes responded instantly, and she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as she rolled onto the track.

Every instinct fired at once. She navigated the first turn with meticulous care, eyes scanning the line ahead, anticipating the apex. Her thoughts briefly flicked to him. Was he ahead? Behind? She wasn't sure, but that uncertainty made her senses sharper, her reactions faster. He was already influencing her, pushing her limits before any direct interaction.

Lap after lap, she maintained focus, each curve, each acceleration precise, controlled. She could feel her confidence growing with every perfect turn, yet a thread of awareness remained taut in her chest: the presence of her unseen rival. He was a phantom, a challenge she hadn't yet met face to face, and she realized she wanted that confrontation—not recklessly, but deliberately, testing herself against someone worthy.

Finally, practice ended, and she rolled her car back into the pit lane, engine cooling, tires steaming. Her hands were slick with sweat beneath her gloves, but her mind remained sharp. She adjusted her helmet and took a moment to observe the paddock, scanning for him. And there he was, walking slowly toward the garages, calm, measured, entirely confident.

Nari's chest tightened again. She reminded herself: he was a competitor. A challenge. Nothing more. Yet a small, private thrill ran through her. He was skilled, precise, and focused, and she felt that same intensity echoing within her. She was no longer just here to prove herself to the track or her team; she was here to measure herself against him, to anticipate, to challenge, and eventually, to confront.

As she walked toward the garage, sunlight catching strands of her dark hair, Nari felt the familiar thrill of racing, compounded by something new: the magnetic pull of a rival she hadn't yet spoken to, but already couldn't ignore.

She exhaled, steadying herself, letting her focus sharpen. This season was going to be more than racing lines and lap times. It was going to be about precision, instinct, and one elusive challenge—the presence of a competitor who demanded her full attention. And she was ready.

Park Jisung might be untouchable on the track, but Seo Nari had something equally powerful: resolve. And she would not be underestimated.

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hiii this is my first story so please feel free to give constructive criticism !