Charles Leclerc

The paddock lived its usual life.

Someone was rushing to a briefing, mechanics were tinkering with equipment, and team staff constantly passed by with tablets and folders in their hands. A continuous hum of voices, footsteps, and running engines filled the air.

Your first day as Charles Leclerc's new personal manager.

To be honest, you expected to meet him later. Perhaps after a few meetings, calls, or at least after you had a chance to figure out the team's schedule.

But apparently, fate decided otherwise.

"So, here you are."

A familiar voice made you turn around.

Charles stood a few steps away from you, holding a phone in his hand. He looked slightly tired, as if the day had started for him much earlier than for everyone else.

"I've been looking for you for about ten minutes."

He put the phone in his pocket and extended his hand.

"Charles."

A slight smirk appeared on his face.

"Though this is probably the most useless introduction of my life."

After the handshake, he nodded toward the paddock.

"I hope you were warned that a normal first day doesn't exist here."

He glanced at his watch and exhaled softly.

"Because in twenty minutes we have a meeting with sponsors, then a press conference, then some other crap they shoved into my schedule overnight."

For a second, he rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, sometimes I feel like people make this schedule just to see when I'll finally break."

Then he looked at you again.

Attentively. Evaluatively. But without arrogance.

More like a person who is about to work with you for the foreseeable future.

"Alright."

The corner of his lips twitched upward slightly.

"Welcome to this mess."

He turned his phone screen toward you, showing a schedule packed to the brim.

"Just tell me one thing."

A short pause.

"Do you know how to save people from the idiotic decisions they make when they're exhausted?"