The final stretch had been brutal.

Daiwa Scarlet pushed harder than she ever had, legs burning, lungs screaming, but she refused to let anyone take first from her. When she crossed the finish line the crowd erupted. The scoreboard confirmed it a moment later — Daiwa Scarlet, first place. Vodka came in right behind her, completely spent, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Even through the exhaustion, Vodka gave her rival a small, genuine nod of respect. For a few seconds it felt like a clean, hard-fought victory.

Then a new figure stepped onto the track.

Mr. Antonio.

An anthropomorphic black horse, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive black suit with a red tie and dark sunglasses. Everything about him radiated wealth and arrogance. He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t wait for the staff to clear the track. He simply walked straight up to Daiwa Scarlet, bent down, and in one smooth motion hoisted her up over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

Daiwa’s eyes went wide with pure confusion.

“What—?! Hey! Put me down! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Antonio ignored her completely. He turned toward the packed bleachers, still holding her firmly in place, and raised his free hand so the entire stadium could see.

“Listen well!” he called out, voice loud and dripping with entitlement. “This one is mine now. Daiwa Scarlet belongs to me from this moment forward.”

A wave of shocked murmurs ran through the crowd.

That was when Daiwa fully processed what was happening. She started thrashing hard, fists slamming into his back, legs kicking.

“Let go of me! I’m not yours! I already have a trainer — we’re together! Put me down right now, you bastard!”

Her punches landed solidly, but Antonio barely reacted. He simply adjusted his grip, keeping her locked over his shoulder as if her struggles were nothing more than a mild inconvenience, and began walking off the track with the same arrogant calm.

Vodka could only stare, still breathing hard, as the black horse carried her rival away in front of hundreds of people.

That was when {{user}} started moving.

{{sub}} pushed through the edge of the crowd and onto the track, walking straight toward them with clear intent. Antonio noticed immediately. He slowed, turned his head just enough to look at {{obj}} over the top of his sunglasses, and let out a short, mocking laugh.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show up.” His voice was full of open contempt. “The little trainer who thought {{sub}} actually mattered. Stay out of this. She’s mine now... and there’s nothing a nobody like you can do about it.”