But Yn did.

And from the first test day in Bahrain, everyone fell in love with her.

She was polite to a fault, the kind of person who thanked mechanics for tightening wheel nuts and apologized to cameras she accidentally bumped into. She brought homemade cookies to the Ferrari garage during pre-season. She called the crew her “big red family.” Charlie practically treated her like a little sister from week one.

But what made fans love her even more was the ritual.

Every single race, right after the national anthem, she would return to her Ferrari, kneel in front of it, place one hand gently on the nose, hold her necklace with the other, bow her head, and whisper something no one could hear. The Ferrari crew always stepped away, forming a loose half-circle around her, guarding the moment like sacred ground.

And somehow, no one ever asked.

Until Monaco.

The press conference room buzzed in that familiar way Monaco always brought—glamour mixed with chaos. Yn sat between Max and George, with Carlos and Fernando on the far side. She looked tiny next to all of them, legs crossed, fingers anxiously playing with the chain of her necklace.

Max leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”

She smiled softly. “A little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” George said reassuringly. “It’s just Monaco. Everyone’s nervous.”

Fernando smirked. “Speak for yourselves, chicos. I am never nervous.”

Carlos elbowed him. “Liar.”

The room laughed, tension easing just as the moderator handed the floor to the first journalist.

Questions came and went—car setups, track evolution, strategy predictions. Yn answered sweetly, always careful, always grateful, always smiling like she didn’t quite believe she deserved to be there.

Then someone raised a hand at the front.

A journalist with a calm voice asked, “Yn, this question is for you. There’s something fans have been curious about. Before every race, you do a ritual. You kneel in front of your car, touch the nose, hold your necklace, and whisper something. Could you share what that means to you?”

The room went very still.

Yn froze. Her eyes widened, and her fingers gripped the necklace slightly. George turned his head toward her. Max’s brows lifted. Carlos and Fernando both leaned in just a bit.

She swallowed.

“Oh… um… that.” She let out a shy breathy laugh, cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t know people noticed it that much.”

“Everyone noticed,” Max said under his breath with a teasing smile.

Yn nudged his arm. “Max…”

“Go on,” George whispered. “Only if you want to.”

Yn nodded, looking down at her hands for a moment before lifting her head.

“It’s… not really anything dramatic,” she said softly. “It’s just… something I’ve done since karting. When I kneel like that, I pray.”

Max blinked. “You pray?”

“Yes.” Yn took another breath. “I pray to… Niki Lauda.”

The room gasped gently.

Fernando’s brows raised in visible surprise. Carlos’ expression softened noticeably.

Yn continued in her quiet voice. “I ask him to watch over all of us. All the drivers. I ask him to keep everyone safe and make sure no one gets hurt.” She fidgeted with the necklace, eyes glimmering. “And sometimes I ask him… if he has a little extra time… to help me get a podium.”

George’s smile melted into something pure and warm. Max leaned back, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“That’s unbelievably sweet,” Carlos murmured.

Yn shrank. “It’s silly, I know—”

“It’s not silly,” Fernando cut in, surprisingly gentle. “Chica, that’s… that’s beautiful.”

She blushed again, staring down at her hands. “I also… um… I also pray to Senna sometimes.”

Max tilted his head. “Sometimes?”

“When it rains,” she whispered. “I ask him to help Niki watch over everyone. Just extra… extra protection.”

A collective soft “aww” swept the room.

Max couldn’t help it. “You’re actually the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Yn hid her face in her hands. “Stop.”

George laughed. “No, he’s right.”

Carlos nodded. “You always do your ritual with so much heart. Now we know why.”

Fernando said, “And now we will all think of it every race. Especially when it rains.”

Yn peeked at them shyly. “No one is allowed to make fun of me.”

Max put a hand dramatically over his chest. “I would never. This is sacred.”

George added, “If anyone makes fun of you, they have to deal with me.”

Carlos chimed in, “And me.”

Fernando snorted. “And me. I am scarier.”

Yn giggled softly, and the room collectively melted at the sound.

The next question turned to someone else, but the moment lingered like a warm glow. Even after the press conference ended, the drivers stayed around her.

As they walked out, Max bumped her shoulder lightly. “You know, if you ever need a podium, you can ask me too.”

“Max…” She laughed. “That’s not how it works.”

“Worth a try.”

George nudged her gently. “You okay? You got quiet.”

“I just…” She shrugged, holding her necklace again. “I didn’t think anyone would ask. It felt… private.”

“They asked because they care,” Carlos said. “And you answered honestly. That’s brave.”

Fernando smirked. “And adorable.”

Yn groaned, covering her face again. “Please stop calling me adorable.”

“You kneeled in front of your car and asked legends to watch over everyone,” Max said. “You’re adorable.”

“Max!”

Carlos raised a finger. “But you’re also a Ferrari driver. A fast one. Never forget that.”

Her cheeks flushed again. “I won’t.”

Race day arrived, and after the anthem, Yn walked back to her Ferrari. Cameras watched from a respectful distance. Fans fell silent. The Ferrari crew stepped back.

She knelt.

One hand reached out to brush the nose of the red car. The other curled around her necklace.

She whispered, barely audible even to herself.

“Watch over us. Keep everyone safe. Please.”

Then, after a heartbeat:

“And… if you can… maybe help me get a podium today. Just if you have time.”

When she stood, she found Max a few meters away, helmet already on. He tapped his chest twice, then pointed at her.

She blinked.

He pointed at the sky.

She realized what he meant.

They’re listening today.

She smiled beneath her balaclava and returned the gesture.