Outside the iron fence of the racetrack, rain poured down in sheets. I crouched in a corner of the pit area, clutching a recommendation letter wrinkled by the rain. "You? You can't even polish your shoes—what makes you think you belong in Hannah's team?" One of the mechanics laughed, kicking over the toolbox I'd just cleaned. I didn't speak. Just stared at my oil-stained coveralls. At the frayed cuff where I’d stitched on a faded racing patch—ten years old now. Hannah arrived, followed by Louis Clark, ranked thirteenth nationally. He leaned against his brand-new GT-R, glancing at me with disdain. "Heard you're applying to be a reserve driver? Rookie, do you even know the minimum requirement for our track?" No one paid me any mind—until an engine roared through the storm. A rust-covered old Evo burst through the curtain of rain and screeched to a halt in the center. The door opened. Ryan Jenkins stepped out. Silence fell over the entire field. Seven-time champion. The legendary creator of the "Phantom Driver." And Hannah’s father—the man she’d never met. His eyes landed on me. His voice cut through the downpour: "One race. Winner takes all." "If you win—you're in." "If you lose—" he paused, "you never touch a steering wheel again." Louis sneered. "Let me show this kid what real racing looks like." The starting lights flared. Six engines screamed into motion. I sat in that forgotten old Evo, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. At the first turn, Louis squeezed me toward the guardrail, trying to force me off the track. But as he glanced back in triumph— I slammed the brakes, yanked the handbrake, and swung into a reverse drift, tires carving a black arc across the asphalt. The stands erupted. "Did he just… use 'Counter-Corner'?" "That move—it was the Phantom Driver’s signature! Twenty years ago!" Through the third turn, I took the inside line, brushing past within ten centimeters of the concrete wall. By the fifth lap, I’d overtaken Louis—without hitting the brakes once. Down to the final stretch, our cars raced side by side. Rain exploded across the windshield like splattered blood. I crossed first. The timer flashed. Dead silence. Louis kicked his helmet aside. "Impossible! How could some grease monkey have skills like that?!" But Ryan smiled. He walked up to me, pulling a yellowed photo from his jacket. In it, a teenage boy stood atop a winner’s podium beside a uniquely painted Evo. "Nine years ago," he said quietly, "this should’ve been you. Not hiding in the pits, cleaning boots." I finally looked up, meeting his gaze. The rain still fell. But beneath it, the roar of engines echoed once more—across time itself. 【Suddenly, a barrage of comments flooded in】 【Holy crap! Isn’t that Ryan Walker—the one who was framed and disqualified?!】 【His dad died in a crash, the team erased his name… he’s alive?!】 【The Phantom Driver… has returned!!】 On the remote mountain roads, a young mechanic hides a secret talent. Thrown into a world where raw speed clashes with ruthless ambition, his ordinary life collides with pride, betrayal, and buried legacies. Is he ready to claim the destiny waiting at full throttle?