Chapter 96: Overcoming Incomplete Combustion

"Hah—…… hah—…… hah—……"

I lost. First place went to Kayf Tara, second place to Apollo Rainbow. Amid the roaring cheers enveloping Twilight Maiden, I gradually began to slow down.

With every step, the weight of defeat settled over my entire body. Ahead and slightly to the side, Kayf Tara ran at a relaxed pace, her shoulders rising and falling, her breathing ragged.

The back of her jersey was drenched in sweat, clinging to her skin. It seemed she had pushed herself harder than I thought. She must’ve had her own share of relentless marking to deal with.

"Hah—……"

Even after slowing to a brisk walk, the dizziness wouldn’t fade. Every cell in my body screamed for oxygen. No matter how much I inhaled, it wasn’t enough. My head spun. My vision warped, my sense of balance wavering. I felt sick—like I might throw up any second.

The moment the discomfort peaked, my consciousness flickered. My brain swayed violently. My legs gave out, and I slumped helplessly against the steel railing.

"……"

…I never imagined running alone could drain me this much. Maybe because my physical specs had improved, I could push myself to the limit—only to crash harder when I hit it.

My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs. Even just standing, I felt like gravity was pulling me down harder than usual. My body was heavy.

The very air around me seemed to press down with tangible weight. The post-exercise stitch in my side overlapped with the bruises from collisions, sending sharp jolts of pain through my ribs. It probably wasn’t serious, but I’d have to visit the hospital later.

After standing still for a while, my breathing finally steadied. I smoothed back my sweat-tangled hair and lifted my head. Amid the cheers, Kayf Tara stood before the stands in her dirtied jersey, trembling slightly—before walking toward the Winner’s Circle.

…The defeated have no place here. I turned on my heel and headed for the underground passage, slipping into the waiting room without greeting anyone.

"……Hah."

I left the door open and scanned the quiet waiting room. Spotting a nearby stool, I sat down—and exhaustion crashed over me like a wave. It was the kind of fatigue that could drag you into sleep in an instant if you let your guard down.

I removed my number tag and rolled up my jersey. The spot where Seattle Charming’s arm had struck me was tinged light pink. Against my pale skin, the redness stood out glaringly. Thankfully, it didn’t look too bad.

After checking my side, I peeled off my socks to inspect my legs.

…Yeah, nothing unusual. I’d still get checked at the hospital, but my legs were fine, and the bruising on my side didn’t seem serious. Thank goodness I had a sturdy body.

Without waiting for Tomio to return, I pulled out my device and rewatched the race footage. …No matter how I looked at it, I had lost to Kayf Tara. That interference had hurt, sure—but even without Seattle Charming’s collision, I would’ve lost anyway. Kayf Tara was too good at shaking off marks, and her explosive closing speed in long distances was more than enough to catch me. That was all there was to it.

As I watched the footage, I realized she had dropped back mid-race to avoid being marked. The other horse girls, lured by our reckless pace, had sped up—but Kayf Tara, with her impeccable internal clock, had stuck to her own rhythm.

The more I watched, the more I noticed how Kayf Tara had endured blocking far away from me. At the same time, I saw how she used clever footwork to distance herself from her rivals.

(…At least three were keeping an eye on Kayf Tara: Chief’s Glider, the third favorite; Seaside Axe; and Caro Memories. From the angle of the group’s diagonal front, it was obvious how exaggeratedly wide Kayf Tara kept her distance.)

A car had been driving parallel to us beyond the inner rail—and viewing the race from its perspective revealed even more.

Mid-race, when Chief’s Glider, Seaside Axe, and Caro Memories tried to block Kayf Tara’s path, she swung wide to break free. The three had schemed to interfere with the top favorite—but the outside lane was too costly to follow.

After all, they were blocking her to win themselves. They didn’t have the stamina to chase her out there, and if she was willingly losing ground, why bother?

So they let her go.

And in the final stretch, Kayf Tara accelerated from the outside, unfazed by the extra distance—shaking off her marks and snatching first place.

I was awed by her terrifying race sense. The way she disrupted her pursuers with sudden bursts of speed or slowdowns, the boldness to swing wide and evade blocks—it all came from an intimate understanding of her own physical limits. Every choice she made was ruthlessly efficient. And above all, the sheer calmness behind her decision-making was staggering.

That composure—those techniques to evade marking—were what I lacked. Kayf Tara hadn’t feared losing ground, taking the wide route to avoid rivals’ blocks. She had carved out a safe path—one only the strongest could afford—charging down the outside like she had calculated my front-running strategy from the start.

The skill of Europe’s long-distance champion, paired with the ability to dodge blocks and perform at her best. The latter was especially noteworthy. The brutal fight for positioning, the relentless marking of top contenders—and the answer to it all. I hadn’t understood overseas racing well enough. …That’s why I lost.

"……Someone who can sprint all-out over 4000 meters… I can’t beat her. Not like this."

If I wanted to compete overseas, I should’ve studied American and European racing culture more. The ferocity of positioning battles, the mercilessness of close-quarters fights, the existence of "rabbit" horse girls. (Though there hadn’t been one in this race, it was all but guaranteed that someone like Seattle Charming would interfere with me like this again.)

"……Damn it. I need to widen my perspective… The world’s bigger than I thought."

Maybe I had gotten careless. After winning the Japanese Derby, the Kikuka-shō, the Stayers Stakes, and the Arima Kinen—had I unconsciously started believing there were no rivals left in long-distance racing?

That might’ve been it. I had beaten Double Trigger, and even Kayf Tara looked worn out—so maybe, just maybe, I had carried some subconscious assurance that "I’ll win today, too." That after all those graded stakes wins, I’d pull off another flawless front-running victory. That no horse girl could possibly keep up with my pace—

Ugh. Just thinking about it made me sick.

Point is, I hadn’t expected interference this brutal. I had let my guard down despite knowing nothing in racing was absolute. This loss meant I had to rethink everything. Strategies for overseas tracks, countermeasures against foreign-style tricks and marking. And more.

"Sigh… Just thinking about it is exhausting. …Huh? Oh, nosebleed. Ugh, did I overthink myself into this?"

While reviewing the footage and organizing my thoughts, a lukewarm liquid suddenly dripped from my nose. Wiping it with my finger, I saw bright red blood. I hurriedly stuffed a tissue up my nose, leaving myself looking ridiculous.

I hope the trainer doesn’t see me like this before they get back—

Just then, Tomio returned to the waiting room, her hair slightly disheveled—probably from the crowd.

"—Apollo, that tissue—"

"Nosebleed."

"……Between that and your side, we should get you to the hospital."

"But before that… I kinda wanna watch Kayf Tara’s trophy ceremony. …Yeah, no way you’ll let me, huh?"

"No. You can watch it in the taxi."

"...Got it."

Tomio said nothing about the outcome of the race. But when I noticed his trembling fist, I pressed my lips together. Worse, I reflexively stared when I saw his dominant hand was red and swollen.

The knuckles of his right hand, around the pointed ridge of his middle finger—the skin was peeled back. A fresh wound, as if he’d scraped it against something—no, as if he’d smashed it into something. A crimson bead swelled from the pink flesh beneath, then dripped down as if reaching its limit.

"Tomio, what happened to your hand?"

"Huh? Ah… just bumped it into something."

Tomio quickly hid his right hand and strode ahead down the staff passageway. After a stunned pause, I chased after him. Anyone could tell he was lying with a little thought. A wound like that doesn’t happen unless you slam your fist into a wall. And punching it hard enough to make yourself bleed… you’d need to be driven by some serious fury to do that.

My heart ached. He must’ve believed I’d win. I hated myself for betraying that expectation.

"...Sorry."

"...For what?"

"…………"

Tomio lowered his head, looking pained as he got into the taxi. I followed, pinching my nose as I fastened my seatbelt. As the car pulled away, I turned on the live stream of the Dubai meeting. Beside me, Tomio spoke up as if remembering something.

"...Seattle Charming was disqualified after deliberation. But the standings won’t change."

"Wait, they were under review?"

"Obviously. A little contact wouldn’t have been a big deal, but that was too much."

That was unexpected. I’d assumed it was a gray-area interference, but apparently, Seattle Charming’s contact with me was deemed dangerous enough for review. I’d been too shocked to notice at the time.

...Well, the results didn’t change, and realistically, I couldn’t beat Kayf Tara anyway. Might as well look on the bright side—now I knew where the line was for interference, thanks to Seattle Charming’s stunt. And firsthand experience was the best kind of knowledge. I turned my attention back to the livestream, watching the trophy ceremony hosted by Dubai’s royalty.

Dubai didn’t hold a winner’s live show for various reasons, so they made the trophy ceremony extra lavish. Kayf Tara, as usual, didn’t smile even a millimeter. But when the crowd erupted in warm applause and cheers, I could’ve sworn I saw her cheeks flush slightly.

Once the trophy presentation ended, the rest of the ceremony was just boring formalities. I tucked my device away and slumped against Tomio’s shoulder.

"...You were still going to the hospital after the Arima Kinen, right?"

"Yeah. Apollo’s been pushing himself since the Kikuka Shō."

"...You have to push yourself to win."

"...Guess so."

"Tomio, what do you think was the reason we lost today?"

"...My failure as your trainer."

"Not Seattle Charming’s interference?"

"Honestly, the second they bumped into you, I wanted to grab their trainer by the collar. But… after watching the rest, I changed my mind. Hard to put into words, but when you hit the final stretch, I got this—chill. As your trainer, maybe I’m unfit to say this, but in that moment, I felt something unknown, something terrifying. I thought Apollo might lose. That overwhelming pressure… it was on the same level as Apollo’s finishing kick."

"…………"

He meant Kayf Tara’s "Unknown Territory Zone," didn’t he? That freakish burst of power, the strongest domain. I totally got what he was saying.

Even if heaven and earth flipped, I couldn’t win as I was now. Kayf Tara had that kind of overwhelming presence. It was almost too effortless to grasp.

"I’m pissed. I don’t accept this result at all. But—in a way, wasn’t this loss kinda lucky?"

"...How so?"

"Better now than later, y’know? If this happened in Europe, we’d regret it way more."

The G2 Dubai Gold Cup ended with a record performance—but only for second place behind Kayf Tara. Of course, I wasn’t satisfied. I’d aimed for one thing only: winning. Second place might look decent on paper, but a loss was a loss. If anything, coming this close just made the frustration worse.

But—if we’d gone to Europe and struggled due to the racing culture difference, it would’ve been way worse. That’s why experiencing it now was a good thing. If this had happened in the G1 Gold Cup, our biggest goal? The regret would’ve been unbearable.

Losing here, in this Dubai Gold Cup, was for the best. We saw the opponent’s true strength, learned what I lacked, and got a feel for overseas racing. The sting of defeat was there, but more importantly, we’d nailed down our future challenges and strategy. Long-term, this loss would be a plus.

Sure, the Stayers Million full conquest was now tougher due to rotation, but with target races until early June, recovery was still possible.

Maybe Tomio understood my point—his eyes gleamed with a fierce light.

"Apollo, you’re strong..."

"Obviously. Let’s figure out the training together, yeah?"

"...Yeah."

—Kayf Tara. After talking to her before the race, I’d thought she was worn down, even disillusioned. She’d seemed like she’d lost her drive. But I was wrong.

After that performance? No way she’d fallen out of love with racing. You still adore it, don’t you?

Kayf Tara must’ve had her own complications, but her passion for racing couldn’t be gone. No one plans that meticulously just for money. No one endures the agony of a full 3200-meter sprint without something driving them.

The answer was no. Without passion, you couldn’t deliver a race that intense.

Lumos had said it too—she’s searching for salvation. Kayf Tara must’ve loved racing from the start. You don’t race like that just for cash. You don’t beat Double Trigger without heart.

That technique, that explosive finish, the towering back I chased today—the soul of the European champion wasn’t dead yet. I’d found the back I needed to aim for. This time, she left me in her dust. Next time, I’d be the one showing my back.

"…………"

—And this might just be my gut talking, but… I think I know how to beat Kayf Tara now. Maybe not a surefire method, but this Dubai Gold Cup gave me something tangible.

Of course, as I am now, I couldn’t win even if I tried. That "strategy" wouldn’t be a weapon without further growth. To defeat her, I’d need a stronger body and the courage to face her head-on. Next time, I’d take her down fair and square.

Burning with determination, I left the electrifying Meydan behind and headed to a nearby hospital for a checkup.