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“Kimi! Fold your clothes properly after you take them off!”
“Wah—sorry!”
Their voices rang through the garage, bright and loud.
It wasn’t exactly common for a development driver to be this bossy toward a full-time driver.
But when it came to Doriane and Kimi, it was such a familiar sight that no one even blinked anymore.
“Clothes don’t fold themselves, Kimi. If you don’t do it, they just stay a mess.”
It was the kind of obvious, painfully correct statement even a child would understand, and Kimi had absolutely nothing to say in response.
They had the air of close siblings—
a reliable older sister and a slightly hopeless younger brother.
The Mercedes staff watched their exchange with warm, amused expressions.
In other words, this was normal.
⸻
Apparently, the clothes Kimi had left lying around weren’t limited to just one piece.
As he hurried around collecting garments scattered in multiple places, Doriane frowned, not even trying to hide her exasperation.
By the time everything was gathered into one spot, the pile had grown impressively large.
“…Oh, my.”
Even she couldn’t help reacting.
Kimi, looking a little sheepish, picked up the heap and headed toward a separate room to fold them.
Doriane followed after him, partly because she felt responsible after scolding him, and partly because it somehow felt wrong to just leave him to it.
“…Hey. I heard you started living alone recently. Are you okay?”
Kimi turned back toward her, arms full of clothes, and gave a wry smile.
“It’s been rough… really made me realize how much I relied on my parents. My place is a disaster. Help me, Doriane…”
There was a genuine note of desperation in his last plea.
They stepped into a small meeting room, and Kimi dumped the pile of clothes onto the table with a heavy thud.
Doriane sighed again—but her tendency to take care of people wouldn’t let her ignore that SOS.
“Honestly, you’re hopeless… Fine. I’ll come help you next time. I’ll bring George.”
⸻
It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
No matter how much Doriane saw Kimi as a younger brother, he was, in reality, her male teammate.
Showing up alone at his apartment would be… questionable, to say the least.
But if she brought George along, there’d be no issue.
George—who was, in many ways, like a dependable eldest son—would surely agree without hesitation.
That was what Doriane thought.
⸻
Kimi, however, reacted as if she’d just proposed a catastrophe.
“What!? George!? No, Doriane, you can’t bring him over to a place like that!”
“…I don’t even know where to start with you.”
It’s that bad!?
And I’m apparently fine to invite into this disaster!?
What do you think George is, exactly!?
And ‘bring him over’—why does that sound so suspicious!?
Countless questions flashed through her mind, but Doriane swallowed every single one of them.
This patience, perhaps, was part of why she’d been chosen as a development driver. Probably.
⸻
Meanwhile, Kimi—clearly dealing with far more pressing concerns—began enthusiastically listing the conditions required for the existence of a smiling George (even if only in his imagination).
“George can only be invited into a room that’s spotless—no dust, and at least three air purifiers!”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“And bottled mineral water! And brand-new glasses with stems!”
“Also not necessary.”
“And a chair with claw feet, a high back, and armrests!”
“…It would suit him, but still not necessary.”
“George is perfect! If he’s coming over, the room has to be perfect too!!!”
⸻
The teenager’s unhinged declarations were swallowed by the soundproof walls.
Doriane pressed her fingers to her temple and sighed.
Then, despite herself, she imagined it—
George sitting in the middle of a room lined with three humming air purifiers,
elegantly holding a stemmed glass of water in a high-backed, claw-footed chair.
…The air purifiers would probably be a bit loud, but otherwise?
It didn’t feel wrong at all.
Realizing that her own mental image of George wasn’t all that different from Kimi’s, Doriane felt a sudden wave of disappointment in herself.
⸻
“Kimi? Oh—and Doriane, too.”
Drawn by Kimi’s loud voice, a man peeked into the room.
It was George Russell himself.
“Oh, George. Good morning.”
“Morning, Doriane. Morning, Kimi. What are you doing today to get scolded?”
He approached them with a soft laugh.
Kimi immediately turned red and squeezed his eyes shut.
“T-too bright…!”
“Kimi? Are you alright? What’s ‘too bright’?”
“…It’s nothing. George, just leave him.”
Kimi muttered, shooting Doriane a resentful look.
“…I’m jealous of you, Doriane. I wish I had the kind of nerves it takes to not be overwhelmed by this level of beauty.”
“Oh? You’ve got some nerve.”
⸻
George watched them with a fond smile—kids getting along, as usual—
when his eyes fell on the crumpled pile of clothes on the table.
“Oh? These—”
The moment he reached out—
“AAAAAAAH!!!”
Kimi lunged forward, throwing himself over the pile to shield it.
“D-don’t!!!”
Even George blinked in shock at the level of embarrassment Kimi was displaying.
“K-Kimi…?”
“George shouldn’t touch something like this!”
“Oh—were these yours? Sorry, I was just going to fold them…”
“I can’t let you do that!!”
Face burning red, Kimi clutched the clothes to his chest and crouched down, knees turned inward.
Even Doriane, who had been arguing with him moments ago, started to feel a little bad.
Kimi, mortified and crouched on the floor.
George, standing there, completely at a loss.
Doriane sighed—again—and stepped in.
⸻
“George… could you close your eyes and cover your ears for a moment?”
“…What? Doriane?”
He turned to her, confusion plain in his eyes.
It was rare to see someone as composed and polished as George this thrown off.
Watching him, Doriane thought,
(I never imagined I’d be the one confusing him like this…)
but said:
“Sorry, I know it doesn’t make sense. Honestly, I don’t get it either. But I need you to do this—for Kimi’s sake.”
She handed him a pair of earplugs from beside the intercom.
“…Alright.”
Ever obedient, their ace followed her instructions.
Feeling both grateful and vaguely guilty, Doriane turned back to Kimi.
⸻
“Kimi! Kimi, listen to me!”
“No, no, no—what is it, Doriane!? This is a crisis of global proportions!”
He refused to move, still clutching the clothes.
“I don’t care if it’s a crisis. Look at George.”
“…George?”
True to form, Kimi instantly reacted to the name.
He turned.
George stood there exactly as instructed—eyes closed, earplugs in, even covering his ears with his hands for good measure.
“…Ah. George…”
“See? He can’t see or hear anything right now, so—”
Now fold the clothes, Doriane was about to say.
But—
“George is so cute! So cute! The way he’s covering his ears—like a bunny! His eyelashes are so long! His features are so sharp! He’s beautiful! Why is he in a garage instead of the Louvre!? George—!”
Kimi’s delighted squeals filled the room.
A deep crease formed between Doriane’s brows.
“If you keep this up, I’m making him open his eyes right now.”
“W-wait! I’ll fold them! I’ll do it now!”
Finally, Kimi began fumbling in a panic.
⸻
While Doriane found herself staring at George (his eyelashes really are ridiculously long…),
a pathetic cry came from behind her.
“Doriane! Help! The clothes won’t let me fold them!”
She turned.
The pile had somehow split into two.
Judging by Kimi’s movements, one was supposed to be the “before” pile and the other the “after.”
But honestly?
They both looked like “before.”
⸻
A world-famous Formula One driver—
and a Mercedes driver, at that—
who had absolutely no basic life skills and was also a devoted worshipper of his teammate…
Who would believe that, even if you told them?
Doriane let out her third sigh of the day and went to help him.