Translator - Vivi from dummytranslations
Editor - Chubby Dragon ☺
Chapter 3 - A man's body odour
Hunter rubbed his nose, “Don’t I seem to be a little too low-key?”
When he walked onto the stage, he coincidentally met Donald from Sauber Motorsport AG.
This fellow obtained third place in the previous race and currently, was at his best time, flushed by success. Even the woman hanging by his side was a beauty.
A staff member was just about to go forward to receive the keys when Donald flung them at Hunter.
Hands in his pockets, Hunter leaned back so that the keys landed tidily in front of his shoes.
“Hey!” Donald looked at Hunter with raised brows, his meaning was obvious: Why didn’t you catch the car keys?
Hunter simply continued to stare at him with both hands stuffed in his pocket before slowly taking out his own invitation card and handed it to the security in the front.
At this time, the staff hurriedly apologised to Hunter while picking up the keys.
Looking at himself, then looking at the valet staff; although both were wearing suits... it didn’t necessarily mean he was with them, right?
“It’s your aura.”
Teammate...ah. Or he should be called an enemy, instead. Walking past him, McGrady laughed mockingly.
Hunter scratched his head, unable to understand. Just how was his aura the same as a valet staff?
During the charity dinner, wine goblets and gambling chips lay intertwined. Many famous celebrities were amongst them, but the racers with their managers became the center of attention. Of course...it didn’t include this idle person.
At least, the food at this banquet wasn’t too bad.
Hunter immensely enjoyed this feeling of not being interrupted incessantly, and eating whatever he felt like eating.
He didn’t need to be afraid like other famous racers, afraid of having cream on his face, and busying himself trying to face those reporters and others from the same profession... Life was short, why should he waste time on social courtesy when he could be enjoying himself instead?
Finishing a plate of desserts, Hunter walked over to another side in satisfaction. At this moment, a waiter pushed a tray in his hands, “I’m so sorry, the supervisor is calling me over. Help me take over for a bit! Thanks!”
Hunter’s eyes widened as he stared at the retreating figure, then looked at the tray in his hands.
Coincidentally, McGrady saw the entire scene and directly placed an empty wine goblet on the tray Hunter was holding.
“I’ll have to trouble you, waiter.”
Saying this, he even placed a one dollar tip on it.
Hunter narrowed his eyes. It looked like McGrady was still holding a grudge against him for failing to obstruct Duchovny in the previous round.
Wait a minute. What if it wasn’t because of the water he thrown in the toilet during the previous race?
Having thought this, Hunter pocketed the dollar bill while throwing a smile towards him and mouthed: Thanks
Unsurprisingly, McGrady’s face twisted in anger.
Hunter felt extremely refreshed.
At this time, because a certain person had arrived, the people at the scene seemed to have received a stimulant. Everyone began to head towards a common direction.
Hunter also went along. Looking up, it turned out to be the Ferrari racing team’s manager and the one walking behind him was Vann Winston, whose aura couldn’t be hidden.
Today, he wore a pure black suit. Although it wasn’t anything fancy to speak of, the simplicity of his clothing only served to highlight his slim waist and powerful shoulder blades which seemed to carry an air of masculinity.
And those pair of legs; every step he took was simply a delight to those watching him.
It didn’t need to be affirmed just who was the center of attention at this charity dinner.
It was just that no matter who came to speak to him, Winston would only give a polite reply and engage in civil conversation with them. He never smiled.
It didn’t matter even when the host of tonight’s banquet went forward to shake his hands, he only nodded.
“Did this person undergo botox and can’t laugh due to the stiffness in his facial muscles?” Hunter touched his chin.
But no matter how indifferent he appeared, no one felt he was being aloof. Like moths drawn to a flame, they were still happy to crowd around him even though they knew Vann Winston’s expression would never change.
At this time, another person set their empty glass on the tray beside him before giving him a look: Why are you still slacking off?
Hunter’s lips twitched. Feeling the urge to have another piece of cake, he left.
Just as he was preparing to leave his position in search for food, his gaze unwittingly swept across where Winston stood. Although Winston held his wine glass and seemed to be silently listening to the host speak, his gaze bypassed the latter’s shoulders, and through the gaps between the scattered guests, landed on him.
This gaze held no trace of emotion and Hunter thought it was merely because he had gotten bored while listening to the host drone on and was looking elsewhere. However, he soon realised this wasn’t the case...
From his eyes to his nose, Winston’s gaze slowly slid down, snaking into his collar and gradually grew deeper.
Hunter turned away.
It was most probably this intoxicated atmosphere in the grand hall that was making him feel uncomfortable.
He tilted his head to the side and hooked a finger to his tie to loosen it.
With just that small action, he felt as if his neck had been burnt. He instinctively turned to look in Winston’s direction.
Ah… he was blocked...
Indeed, it was just his misperception.
Hunter headed in another direction and saw a plate of mini lemon pastries.
“Great, I’ll eat you guys.”
In the instant he looked up, he unconsciously met Winston’s gaze once more and an invisible force seemed to gush out towards him, mercilessly drilling into his body. Everything that was covering him up suddenly seemed to have been peeled and torn to shreds.
His body began to heat up for some reason and blood rushed to his lower body.
Hunter wanted to look away, but at this moment, he had an illusion of being trapped in the clutches of the other person, unable to break free.
“And now, the charity auction will begin!”
The audience’s attention shifted towards the stage, including Winston’s.
Hunter finally let out a breath of relief.
What happened earlier was most probably an illusion… he and Winston had only spoke a few words, at most, to each other every time they had met.
Once was in the toilet, another time in the supermarket. There was no reason for that person to look at him as if he was an enemy!
The sponsors talked a lot of rubbish before finally beginning the main event.
“In the auction today, all profits will go towards the Ferrari foundation for patients with leukemia! Now, I would like to invite everyone to take a good look at our very first item belonging to the man nicknamed the ‘Great White Shark’. He is Ciel, the god of racing and the champion of two consecutive F1 races. This is the glove he wore during his very first race!”
The room erupted into thunderous applaus.
“The auctions starts at 5,000 USD!”
Hunter snickered and took a bite out of his lemon pie.
5,000 USD. Those who didn’t know would think it was a piece of modern art!
Damn, looked like he should have taken Marcus’s advice and train harder. Once he became famous, even if the gloves he had used couldn’t reach 5,000 USD, there wouldn’t be a problem hitting 500 USD, right?
When the time comes, he would simply change a pair every match!
In the end, the ‘Great White Shark’ Ciel’s gloves were sold at 20,000 USD.
Hunter couldn’t help but sigh: The F1 is truly the world’s most expensive sport, nothing can beat it.
“Next up, we have the second item— A T-shirt that Vann Winston from Ferrari racing team wore during a match.
From beside Hunter, excited screams sounded.
“The bid starts at 5,000 USD!”
Before the host could even finish his introduction, the price had already begun to soar.
“6,000 USD!”
“7,000 USD!”
“8,000 USD!”
...
Hunter nodded along while confusedly listening to the bidding war going on.
It was just a T-shirt. Why did its price skyrocket just from having Winston wear it once?
In the end, the price even exceeded 50,000 USD.
Hunter felt as if the lemon pie he’d eaten must have gone down wrongly and wanted to drink some water.
Once he turned around, he saw a teary-eyed young girl being consoled by her father.
However, that girl couldn’t stop her tears.
Truthfully speaking, Hunter wondered, among the female fans who partook in the bid war earlier, how many of them truly understood the F1?
“Darling, believe me, alright?” The father helped the little girl wipe away her tears but she only turned away.
Hunter was somewhat sympathetic and therefore, after arranging his tie, he went towards them.
“Hey, do you like Vann Winston a lot?”
“...” The young girl was very puzzled by Hunter’s sudden appearance, but she still nodded, “That’s right.”
“Did you know that in an F1 race, the physical exertion is comparable to running a marathon?”
The girl nodded, not understanding why Hunter was telling her this.
“That’s why, racers can lose as much as a third of their body water during a match. His white T-shirt would have absorbed all this … this is a true sweatshirt, not just in name but also in reality. If I had to guess, the stench from the body odour belonging to Winston… is probably very strong?” Hunter shrugged and continued looking at the girl.
“A-Are you sick?!” The girl was furious, turning around to leave.
Hunter rubbed his nose and muttered to himself, “I’m sick? At least it’s more normal than spending 50,000 USD on a guy’s sweatshirt.”
“I don’t have any body odour, sorry to disappoint you.”
Hearing the cold voice, sounding like metal echoing in an empty room, coming from behind him, Hunter’s back stiffened. Even if he had only heard the other person speak a few words before, he could easily recognise it as Winston’s voice.
When...when on earth did he appear?
Wasn’t this man supposed to be chatting with the host or advertisers of the sort?
***
The author has something to say:
While frying eggs:
Hunter: Eh, aren’t you from England? How did I bump into you at a supermarket in New York?
Winston: Because in our last life, you told me that you didn’t have enough money after going home from the competition when you were at the supermarket.
Hunter: What about the underwear?
Winston: I’ll get you a better one.
T/n: We're looking for translators for this series, so if you're interested in joining us and translating this series, you can contact me via the contact form!
Editor - Chubby Dragon ☺
Chapter 3 - A man's body odour
Hunter rubbed his nose, “Don’t I seem to be a little too low-key?”
When he walked onto the stage, he coincidentally met Donald from Sauber Motorsport AG.
This fellow obtained third place in the previous race and currently, was at his best time, flushed by success. Even the woman hanging by his side was a beauty.
A staff member was just about to go forward to receive the keys when Donald flung them at Hunter.
Hands in his pockets, Hunter leaned back so that the keys landed tidily in front of his shoes.
“Hey!” Donald looked at Hunter with raised brows, his meaning was obvious: Why didn’t you catch the car keys?
Hunter simply continued to stare at him with both hands stuffed in his pocket before slowly taking out his own invitation card and handed it to the security in the front.
At this time, the staff hurriedly apologised to Hunter while picking up the keys.
Looking at himself, then looking at the valet staff; although both were wearing suits... it didn’t necessarily mean he was with them, right?
“It’s your aura.”
Teammate...ah. Or he should be called an enemy, instead. Walking past him, McGrady laughed mockingly.
Hunter scratched his head, unable to understand. Just how was his aura the same as a valet staff?
During the charity dinner, wine goblets and gambling chips lay intertwined. Many famous celebrities were amongst them, but the racers with their managers became the center of attention. Of course...it didn’t include this idle person.
At least, the food at this banquet wasn’t too bad.
Hunter immensely enjoyed this feeling of not being interrupted incessantly, and eating whatever he felt like eating.
He didn’t need to be afraid like other famous racers, afraid of having cream on his face, and busying himself trying to face those reporters and others from the same profession... Life was short, why should he waste time on social courtesy when he could be enjoying himself instead?
Finishing a plate of desserts, Hunter walked over to another side in satisfaction. At this moment, a waiter pushed a tray in his hands, “I’m so sorry, the supervisor is calling me over. Help me take over for a bit! Thanks!”
Hunter’s eyes widened as he stared at the retreating figure, then looked at the tray in his hands.
Coincidentally, McGrady saw the entire scene and directly placed an empty wine goblet on the tray Hunter was holding.
“I’ll have to trouble you, waiter.”
Saying this, he even placed a one dollar tip on it.
Hunter narrowed his eyes. It looked like McGrady was still holding a grudge against him for failing to obstruct Duchovny in the previous round.
Wait a minute. What if it wasn’t because of the water he thrown in the toilet during the previous race?
Having thought this, Hunter pocketed the dollar bill while throwing a smile towards him and mouthed: Thanks
Unsurprisingly, McGrady’s face twisted in anger.
Hunter felt extremely refreshed.
At this time, because a certain person had arrived, the people at the scene seemed to have received a stimulant. Everyone began to head towards a common direction.
Hunter also went along. Looking up, it turned out to be the Ferrari racing team’s manager and the one walking behind him was Vann Winston, whose aura couldn’t be hidden.
Today, he wore a pure black suit. Although it wasn’t anything fancy to speak of, the simplicity of his clothing only served to highlight his slim waist and powerful shoulder blades which seemed to carry an air of masculinity.
And those pair of legs; every step he took was simply a delight to those watching him.
It didn’t need to be affirmed just who was the center of attention at this charity dinner.
It was just that no matter who came to speak to him, Winston would only give a polite reply and engage in civil conversation with them. He never smiled.
It didn’t matter even when the host of tonight’s banquet went forward to shake his hands, he only nodded.
“Did this person undergo botox and can’t laugh due to the stiffness in his facial muscles?” Hunter touched his chin.
But no matter how indifferent he appeared, no one felt he was being aloof. Like moths drawn to a flame, they were still happy to crowd around him even though they knew Vann Winston’s expression would never change.
At this time, another person set their empty glass on the tray beside him before giving him a look: Why are you still slacking off?
Hunter’s lips twitched. Feeling the urge to have another piece of cake, he left.
Just as he was preparing to leave his position in search for food, his gaze unwittingly swept across where Winston stood. Although Winston held his wine glass and seemed to be silently listening to the host speak, his gaze bypassed the latter’s shoulders, and through the gaps between the scattered guests, landed on him.
This gaze held no trace of emotion and Hunter thought it was merely because he had gotten bored while listening to the host drone on and was looking elsewhere. However, he soon realised this wasn’t the case...
From his eyes to his nose, Winston’s gaze slowly slid down, snaking into his collar and gradually grew deeper.
Hunter turned away.
It was most probably this intoxicated atmosphere in the grand hall that was making him feel uncomfortable.
He tilted his head to the side and hooked a finger to his tie to loosen it.
With just that small action, he felt as if his neck had been burnt. He instinctively turned to look in Winston’s direction.
Ah… he was blocked...
Indeed, it was just his misperception.
Hunter headed in another direction and saw a plate of mini lemon pastries.
“Great, I’ll eat you guys.”
In the instant he looked up, he unconsciously met Winston’s gaze once more and an invisible force seemed to gush out towards him, mercilessly drilling into his body. Everything that was covering him up suddenly seemed to have been peeled and torn to shreds.
His body began to heat up for some reason and blood rushed to his lower body.
Hunter wanted to look away, but at this moment, he had an illusion of being trapped in the clutches of the other person, unable to break free.
“And now, the charity auction will begin!”
The audience’s attention shifted towards the stage, including Winston’s.
Hunter finally let out a breath of relief.
What happened earlier was most probably an illusion… he and Winston had only spoke a few words, at most, to each other every time they had met.
Once was in the toilet, another time in the supermarket. There was no reason for that person to look at him as if he was an enemy!
The sponsors talked a lot of rubbish before finally beginning the main event.
“In the auction today, all profits will go towards the Ferrari foundation for patients with leukemia! Now, I would like to invite everyone to take a good look at our very first item belonging to the man nicknamed the ‘Great White Shark’. He is Ciel, the god of racing and the champion of two consecutive F1 races. This is the glove he wore during his very first race!”
The room erupted into thunderous applaus.
“The auctions starts at 5,000 USD!”
Hunter snickered and took a bite out of his lemon pie.
5,000 USD. Those who didn’t know would think it was a piece of modern art!
Damn, looked like he should have taken Marcus’s advice and train harder. Once he became famous, even if the gloves he had used couldn’t reach 5,000 USD, there wouldn’t be a problem hitting 500 USD, right?
When the time comes, he would simply change a pair every match!
In the end, the ‘Great White Shark’ Ciel’s gloves were sold at 20,000 USD.
Hunter couldn’t help but sigh: The F1 is truly the world’s most expensive sport, nothing can beat it.
“Next up, we have the second item— A T-shirt that Vann Winston from Ferrari racing team wore during a match.
From beside Hunter, excited screams sounded.
“The bid starts at 5,000 USD!”
Before the host could even finish his introduction, the price had already begun to soar.
“6,000 USD!”
“7,000 USD!”
“8,000 USD!”
...
Hunter nodded along while confusedly listening to the bidding war going on.
It was just a T-shirt. Why did its price skyrocket just from having Winston wear it once?
In the end, the price even exceeded 50,000 USD.
Hunter felt as if the lemon pie he’d eaten must have gone down wrongly and wanted to drink some water.
Once he turned around, he saw a teary-eyed young girl being consoled by her father.
However, that girl couldn’t stop her tears.
Truthfully speaking, Hunter wondered, among the female fans who partook in the bid war earlier, how many of them truly understood the F1?
“Darling, believe me, alright?” The father helped the little girl wipe away her tears but she only turned away.
Hunter was somewhat sympathetic and therefore, after arranging his tie, he went towards them.
“Hey, do you like Vann Winston a lot?”
“...” The young girl was very puzzled by Hunter’s sudden appearance, but she still nodded, “That’s right.”
“Did you know that in an F1 race, the physical exertion is comparable to running a marathon?”
The girl nodded, not understanding why Hunter was telling her this.
“That’s why, racers can lose as much as a third of their body water during a match. His white T-shirt would have absorbed all this … this is a true sweatshirt, not just in name but also in reality. If I had to guess, the stench from the body odour belonging to Winston… is probably very strong?” Hunter shrugged and continued looking at the girl.
“A-Are you sick?!” The girl was furious, turning around to leave.
Hunter rubbed his nose and muttered to himself, “I’m sick? At least it’s more normal than spending 50,000 USD on a guy’s sweatshirt.”
“I don’t have any body odour, sorry to disappoint you.”
Hearing the cold voice, sounding like metal echoing in an empty room, coming from behind him, Hunter’s back stiffened. Even if he had only heard the other person speak a few words before, he could easily recognise it as Winston’s voice.
When...when on earth did he appear?
Wasn’t this man supposed to be chatting with the host or advertisers of the sort?
***
The author has something to say:
While frying eggs:
Hunter: Eh, aren’t you from England? How did I bump into you at a supermarket in New York?
Winston: Because in our last life, you told me that you didn’t have enough money after going home from the competition when you were at the supermarket.
Hunter: What about the underwear?
Winston: I’ll get you a better one.
T/n: We're looking for translators for this series, so if you're interested in joining us and translating this series, you can contact me via the contact form!
4 comments
Ahahaha.. what a way to crush the girl's dreams XD
ReplyDeleteThank yo so much for translating!
Glad you all are enjoying it ^_^ also, i will never understand fans who are willing to buy used t-shirts....
DeleteInteresting story! Thanks for translating
ReplyDeleteHunter so cute wkwkwk
ReplyDeleteThank you for translating this novel 👍🏻👍🏻