"Dylan Fitzgerald, I'm right here. If you have something to say to me, say it to my face."

  Vance pulled Elian behind him, positioning himself between them. "But you are not permitted to slander me in front of this company's rider."

  "Oh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

  Dylan met Vance's gaze without flinching, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

  "Furthermore, you have no right to take this company's rider to dangerous locations. You should choose safe, appropriate, and legal venues." Vance's brow furrowed, his blue eyes gleaming with afierce, ruthless light.

  "Ha ha ha ha! Since when do contracts stipulate that?" Dylan laughed loudly. "The truth is, you just want to possess him out of your own selfish desire. But the pathetic part is, you have absolutely no right to control where he goes, who he's with, who he has dinner with, or who he has sex with."

  "Stop, stop, stop—what are you two even arguing about?"

  Elian thrust his hand between them. "I'm just going for a meal. And Vance just asked you to take me somewhere safe. No one said he's controlling my... you know..."

  "Sex life." Dylan supplied helpfully.

  "Thanks for that..." Elian said, thoroughly exasperated.

  He couldn't understand why these two were always so combustible around each other. He could only stand between them, trying to play peacemaker.

  "Uh... Dylan, maybe you should go change? I think I hear your team calling you. Don't make them worry."

  As if on cue, a voice in the distance actually called out for Dylan.

  "Fine." Dylan flicked water droplets from his clothes. "But don't forget our deal."

  "Okay... but pick somewhere safe. I don't want to see your head spurting blood again."

  "Don't worry, it'll be to your liking." The red-haired rider turned away. "Bye, Mom."

  "Who's your mom..." Elian muttered under his breath.

  "Does he pester you like this every day?" Vance asked.

  "Yeah..." Elian said awkwardly. "Dylan probably just really wants to catch up with his junior from school."

  God only knew, there wasn't much "catching up" to do. Most of the time, Dylan just showed up to cause trouble, occasionally sharing some useful competition tips.

  Seeing Vance's unreadable expression, Elian quickly changed the subject. "So you said you went to Mexico? And then?"

  Vance's lips pressed together slightly, as if weighing whether to finish what he had started.

  "What I was trying to say earlier was—I went to Mexico for something very important. I didn't mean to miss your competition."

  He said it after all. There was a barely perceptible sigh in his tone, as if he had been defeated by the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

  But Elian couldn't detect the circuitous emotions layered beneath those simple words. He was simply happy, even a little incredulous.

  "I thought... you didn't want to come." Elian rubbed the back of his head. "The first day I didn't see you. The second day either. And then..."

  He trailed off. Saying it out loud made him sound like he had been waiting eagerly every day for Vance to show up?

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Which, admittedly, was true.

  "No. I wanted to watch you compete." Vance's tone was slightly unnatural.

  The man turned his face slightly, avoiding those overly bright eyes.

  "Oh—really? That's great, haha..."

  For some reason, when Vance averted his gaze and said that, Elian actually felt shy.

  Vance didn't need to report his whereabouts to him at all. He didn't need to explain why he missed the competition. He didn't even need to come over.

  But he had said, "I wanted to watch you compete."

  Say something, say something, say something! Elian screamed internally.

  "So... was your Mexico trip fun? Did you bring me any souvenirs?" He deliberately wore a mischievous grin, trying to ease the subtle tension in the air.

  Vance was silent for a few seconds. Then he pulled a bulging, high-end paper bag from his backpack.

  "You actually did?" Elian exclaimed.

  "Just some snacks I picked up."

  "Wow, Vance buying souvenirs? I have to take a picture for posterity." Just then, Camilla's voice came from the doorway.

  She leaned against the doorframe, smiling, appraising them both.

  "Camilla..." Vance's tone held a trace of irritation. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to congratulate him on his win." Camilla smiled. "Alright, sweetheart, go on. See what he bought you?"

  Opening the paper bag revealed a dazzling array of snacks.

  "'Just some snacks'... this is a lot." Camilla leaned in, incredulous.

  Elian looked inside. The packaging was unusually fancy, but some things seemed a bit... young for him?

  Like all those lollipops?

  Was Vance treating him like a kid...

  Nestled among the snacks, Elian noticed a delicate velvet box, incongruously tucked at the very bottom.

  "What's this?"

  Opening the box revealed a glint of silver.

  It was a men's silver brooch, engraved with an elegant horse relief. The craftsmanship was exquisite, understated yet classy. Elian marveled at the detail; the horse's mane was lifelike, its proud, powerful stance quite reminiscent of Zephyr.

  "This must have been mixed in by accident... Probably my assistant's mistake when shopping." Vance explained. "Although, silverware is one of Mexico's specialties."

  "Too bad it was a mistake. I'd love to keep this."

  Elian traced the silver ornament with his finger. Turning it over, he was startled to find his own initials engraved on the back.

  "Mmm-hmm~" Camilla's sharp eyes caught it too. She narrowed her gaze. "'Just some snacks,' 'accidentally mixed in,' 'a mistake.' Someone really enjoys lying through their teeth."

  "Camilla—" Vance pressed his hand to his forehead in defeat.

  "Alright, alright, I'll shut up." She said this, then turned to Elian. "Sweetheart, you keep it. This is his love token for you."

  "Camilla!" Someone's enraged voice rang out.

  Elian knew "love token" was just Camilla teasing. But since Vance wasn't taking it back, it seemed the gift really was meant for him.

  "Thank you. I really like this." Elian's eyes curved into crescents as he smiled.

  Vance looked away. The tips of his ears flushed with a barely perceptible red.

  "It's nothing priceless... I'll get you something better next time." His voice was stiff.

  Winning the four-star competition proved Elian had genuine potential for the Olympics, but for Coach Jasper, it wasn't nearly enough.

  "If not for the many rider errors in that competition, you wouldn't have been so fortunate," the coach mused.

  To that end, Jasper devised an even stricter regimen. He required Elian to practice on different horses to maintain consistency.

  Their sights were set on five-star events. But before that, Elian had to master the elusive dressage patterns.

  "Oh, come on—you want me to compete on different horses, but I have to practice dressage with Zephyr?" Elian was deflated.

  He knew Jasper was testing his adaptability, but after the thirtieth attempt, he was reaching his limit.

  Right now, he genuinely wished he could bring Diane, his former partner, over sooner. At least she enjoyed dressage much more than Zephyr did.

  Zephyr, as usual, just flicked his mane, showing no signs of fatigue.

  Because he had zero intention of cooperating.

  "From the top! Enter at A." Jasper ignored his complaints, mechanically repeating the command.

  Elian engaged his core. Zephyr immediately launched into a medium trot. Transitioning to extended trot, the horse should lengthen its stride, increasing suspension time. But suddenly, his hindquarters lost coordination, like a rusted machine seizing up.

  In a lesser competition, the difference might be imperceptible. But judges at five-star events and above were critical enough to spot it instantly.

  "Stop!" The coach slammed the rail. "Insufficient hindquarter drive again! How many times is that?"

  "Thirty-one times, Coach."

  "Goddammit! I didn't ask for an actual count!" Jasper's voice cracked with frustration. "Extended trot means the horse's strides lengthen, the hindquarters stepping powerfully under the body—not just running faster!"

  Elian's knuckles tightened on the reins, his lips pressed together in thought.

  The problem was always the same: the fluidity of gait transitions. Three-day eventing dressage had already eliminated some of the most advanced movements, but the transitions between gaits had to be as precise as interlocking gears. Zephyr always resisted engaging his hindquarters during the changes.

  Jasper lost patience, waving his hand to signal the end of the day's training.

  Elian collapsed by the arena, his eyes slightly vacant, gazing absently at the chaotic hoof prints crisscrossing the ground.

  "Hey, you look terrible." Aria appeared beside him. "Want some apple pie? Timmy bought it."

  She was pouring sweet oats as a treat for the horses, gesturing toward a cardboard box on the table.

  "No, thanks... I can't eat."

  "Don't you usually thrive on challenges?" Aria was surprised. "Why so down today?"

  "Do I usually seem like that?" Elian smiled ruefully. "I just can't find the right rhythm. The coach has explained it several ways, but nothing seems to work."

  "Maybe... you could ask the boss for advice?"

  "You just want to see me get nervous around him again, don't you? I'm telling you, I'm not scared of him anymore."

  "I'm serious this time." Seeing his expression, she put her hands on her hips. "The boss has handled six different horses with different personalities and bloodlines, and he always gets consistent performances out of them. I think he'd know how to handle different horses, what cues to give them."

  "Okay, next time I see him, I'll ask."

  "No need to wait. You can ask him today." Aria smiled, her small freckles faintly visible on her cheeks. "The boss is at the stables today. He should be resting at his villa."

  The villa was one of Vance's residences at Heaton Stables. He rarely stayed there; Elian only passed it occasionally on walks.

  "Alright, alright. I'll go find Vance and ask him." Elian got to his feet. "Otherwise, Jasper's definitely going to kill me."

  He borrowed Timmy's golf cart and slowly drove along the gravel path toward Vance's residence.

  Afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the path. The wheels crunched lightly over the gravel. In the distance, the small villa with its dark brown roof gradually came into view.

  Several neatly trimmed maple trees stood in the front yard, their late-autumn leaves tinged with gold and red.

  Elian parked by the low wooden fence. Looking up, he saw Vance sitting at a wooden table in the yard, head bowed, reviewing documents.