Story Reader / Event Story / Magpie's Fortune / Story
The man-made beach extends as far as the eye can see, and even Constellia's silver skyline disappears from view.
The waves glimmer faintly behind the ash grove. It's hard to believe this futuristic city sets aside such an expansive area for a tropical park.
Wow, this place is huge! Is this really Constellia's seaside go-kart track?
Following Bridget's gaze, you spot gray streaks amid the endless gold beneath the watchtower. Rising heat from the asphalt distorts the air, blurring everything in the distance.
No need! Our missions take place everywhere, and staying adaptable is exactly what lets me jump in and back you up whenever it's needed...
She stops talking, turns to the side, and flashes a bright, easygoing smile.
Let's not talk about the missions anymore. I'm the one who invited you, so going on about that now is a total buzzkill!
That last sim race was such a rush!
For this holiday invitation, I want you to experience the real adrenaline surge of a high-speed race!
With that, Bridget coolly adjusts the sunglasses resting just above her bangs.
Commandant, go ahead and pick any vehicle you like!
Hmm, let's go with that orange go-kart on Track Four!
Hah! So you want me to just size it up by eye? They might all be the same model, but little details—like how worn the tires are—really do set them apart.
She stands next to the bright orange chassis, examining the tires and body as if she's conducting a professional assessment.
If I'm being honest, this go-kart feels more like a retro off-road buggy.
It's definitely not a model you see every day. Think it'll be tough to drive?
You overhear complaints. Even though you've studied how to handle old-style vehicles at F.O.S., you rarely get to put that training into practice.
What do you say, Commandant? Sure you can handle it?
You rarely get to use old-style vehicles in real situations, but you've definitely learned the skills at F.O.S.
Alright, hop on board. I've got this covered!
You duck down into the seat and settle beside Bridget in front of the control panel.
Here—your helmet.
As soon as you sit down, she offers you a piece of protective gear painted in the same orange color.
You stretch out your arms and fix your gaze on the clutch and throttle.
Hey, hey, hey—take it easy. Better safe than...
It's that familiar driver-safety line; whenever you ride with her, you always hear it a few times.
As she reminds you about safety, she straps you on shoulder, elbow, and wrist guards.
It's like being packed into a sturdy power suit all over again.
...Pff.
Oh, nothing's wrong. It's just that seeing you head out like this puts me at ease.
I'm just thinking about this old tire company mascot from the Golden Age... You look just as cute right now, Commandant.
You're about to ask what she means when the start buzzer suddenly blares in your ears.
Let's go!
She rests her hand on the secondary steering wheel that shares control of the main drive.
The car gives a quick shudder and surges over the black-and-white checkered start line.
With each turn and overtake, Bridget responds in an instant. The wheel feels light and deft in her hands, almost like a toy she can maneuver with ease.
You can only feel the warm sea breeze passing by. Before you know it, you're back at the starting line.
Once the race is over, the tourists chill in the shade, while the champion—no surprise—stretches out on her towel without a care.
Sunbathing with a chilled alcohol-flavor electrolyte drink? It's absolutely perfect!
She gulps down a big mouthful of the icy drink and smacks her lips in pure satisfaction.
You know, the only real drawback is these blazing UV rays. If I keep going like this, my bionic skin's gel layer will age in no time...
Don't be so clueless! Come on, help me put on some sunscreen gel.
Commandant, can you help me with this sunscreen gel?
Hey, why the fuss? This is part of keeping our frames in good shape. If I lie face-down, it's hard for me to reach my back, alright?
You accept the hose she offers, squeeze out a sticky, pale lotion, and rub it gently between your hands. Then you press your palms against the skin in front of you.
It's more... elastic than you anticipate. As you spread the lotion, a soothing warmth settles into your fingertips—so warm, you can't tell if it's just the sunlight or the vital fluid beneath her skin.
Yeah, that's the spot. Whew... that feels amazing.
Actually... on a holiday like this, isn't racing a bit out of place?
She sits up partway, and the cheerful note in her voice suddenly softens.
Back in the convoy days, I watched my fair share of old Double Seventh Festival-themed films...
So, I got to know plenty of festival traditions that way. But fireworks or wishes—they were all luxuries from before everything fell apart.
Even then, it struck me as unbelievable that, not long ago, people actually took the time to honor a myth like that.
So instead of copying a festival I've never experienced and juggling details I don't know, I decide to stick with an activity I'm comfortable with.
Commandant... I'm being too willful, aren't I?
She suddenly buries her face in the towel blanket, making it impossible to see her expression.
Should you keep going with the massage? While you're hesitating, the familiar, cheerful voice suddenly interrupts your train of thought.
Ah! Hurry up and drink. Your cold drink is practically turning into hot soup in this sun, Commandant!
Bridget suddenly straightens up and fixes her gaze on the bottle in your hand.
Cheers!
