Back in the office, Shuta An silently returned to his seat and turned on his computer. Across from him, Kitahara originally wanted to ask what kind of "reward" he had received—but after catching a glimpse of Shuta An's expression, he wisely held his tongue.
As for the card from Symboli Rudolf, Shuta An had no intention of using it lightly. Even though Silence Suzuka still didn't have a roommate for so reason, he had absolutely no confidence in the soundproofing of Central Tracen Academy. Forget the dormitories—even in the office, he could occasionally hear conversations from the next room.
With that thought dismissed, he turned his focus entirely to work.
Today's primary task was clear: analyze jiro Dober's main rivals.
The Oka Sho prep races had already concluded, and eight Uma Musu had secured their entry tickets.
From the Tulip Sho—Orange Peel, Scarlet Mail, and Big Monroe.
From the Hochi Hai Fillies Revue—Kyoei March, She's Princess, and Yamanin Sanadu.
From the Anemone Stakes—Fumino Paradise and Tanino Mauna Kea.
Normally, the Flora Stakes would also contribute qualifiers. But this year was an exception. The winner, Seeking the Pearl, was a repatriated student and ineligible for the Classics, while the runner-up, Hokko Beauty, had withdrawn due to a minor injury.
As a result, several competitors of questionable strength had slipped into the projected entry list.
Even so, Shuta An showed no intention of underestimating them.
"This is a once-in-a-lifeti race," he murmured. "I'm not letting Dober lose because of my oversight."
The existing prediction lists didn't satisfy him.
So he decided to make his own.
Opening the URA Association's official site, he began compiling data, cross-referencing public records with internal academy information. By the ti he finished, more than an hour had passed.
Eighteen nas.
Eighteen rows.
He leaned back slightly, satisfied.
"That should cover it. Let's start from the bottom."
To him, raw data alone was never enough. Only when paired with race footage could it truly reveal a horse's nature.
Downloading multiple-angle videos, he began reviewing the past races of Andante—the lowest-ranked entry on his list.
"Debuted successfully in her third race—one win and one loss at the one-win class level on 1200-ter dirt—"
His gaze sharpened as the footage played.
"Last race, Anemone Stakes—14th place. Crushed."
He paused briefly, then continued his analysis.
"She's fundantally a dirt runner. Prefers power tracks. Has front-running capability, proven in her earlier win—but against Kyoei March, she won't fight for the lead."
He tapped the table lightly.
"In the last race, she tried a forward positioning tactic and failed completely—so this ti, she'll probably fall back into a mid-pack strategy."
The conclusion ca together cleanly.
"If the track turns heavy, she might try to steal position—"
He made a note.
"But against Dober, forcing that move would only backfire. Still, better not let Dober waste stamina dealing with her."
One by one, he worked through similar-level opponents, filtering out threats, identifying patterns, refining expectations.
By the ti the workday ended, only the top contenders from the prep races remained.
"Clock out first," he muttered. "I'll finish the rest at ho."
At Central Tracen Academy, overti wasn't common practice. Unless absolutely necessary, even Trainers preferred to leave on ti.
Shuta An was no exception.
After shutting down his computer, he left the office alongside Kitahara.
"It's almost ti for the Classic season," Kitahara said as they walked. "This year's Triple Tiara is drawing even more attention than the traditional three crowns not sothing you see often."
"Because of Dober?" Shuta An replied casually.
Although he handled the team's official social dia daily, he never lingered on public opinion. Once work was done, he logged off—uninterested in anything beyond that.
"Exactly," Kitahara nodded. "A Sadalsuud Team runner entering a dostic Classic is already rare. Add in the jiro bloodline—expectations are naturally high."
Shuta An gave a small shrug.
"The jiro Family has more than just Dober this year. jiro McQueen, jiro Palr, jiro Ryan—none of them are weak."
"That's true," Kitahara admitted. "But their attention doesn't compare."
He glanced at Shuta An.
"An overseas G1 winner. Last year's Hanshin Juvenile Fillies champion. And that 'Ice Beauty' image—Miss jiro Dober is extrely popular."
He paused briefly, then added:
"You just don't feel it because you're used to comparing everything to Oguri Cap."
Shuta An didn't respond imdiately.
It was true—whether consciously or not, Oguri Cap had beco his standard.
The Uma Musu who turned Paris black and white overnight after winning the French Derby—even Silence Suzuka had never achieved sothing like that.
"Well~" he finally said. His tone was neutral, but his gaze had sharpened slightly. "If that's the case—then I'll just have to work harder."
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
"Wouldn't want to disappoint her fans."
After returning ho, Shuta An prepared a simple dinner for himself and ate quietly while watching the evening news.
"The Nikkei index is still falling… two years already, and there's still no sign of recovery. Housing prices are dropping too."
He listened absentmindedly, leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Maybe I should consider buying a place in Okinawa."
The thought lingered for a mont—before he dismissed it with a small shake of his head.
"Forget it. If Dober wins the Oka Sho—I'll treat myself to one."
Just as he muttered that, the program shifted to coverage of the Twinkle Series.
Unsurprisingly, the focus was almost entirely on the Oka Sho.
And at the center of it all—
jiro Dober.
"Dober must be having a rough ti—" Shuta An sighed softly as he watched footage of her being stopped by reporters the mont she stepped out of the academy gates.
He frowned.
"No… this can't go on."
Without hesitation, he picked up his phone.
The sa repetitive questions—How confident are you? What do you think of your rivals? What does it an to follow in jiro Ramonu's footsteps?—weren't just aningless.
They were pressure.
Unnecessary pressure.
And he refused to let it accumulate any further.
"Even if it wasn't stopped earlier—it's not too late now."
He quickly contacted Symboli Rudolf.
The response ca swiftly.
As soone who had once stood at the pinnacle herself, Rudolf understood exactly what Dober was going through. Endless interviews, repetitive narratives, expectations stacked higher with each passing day—She had endured it.
But that didn't an Dober should have to.
"I'll speak with the URA Association," she replied.
That was enough.
Afterward, Shuta An opened Line and sent a ssage directly to Dober.
"From now until the Oka Sho, you don't need to deal with reporters. If anyone approaches you, tell them you're under a dia blackout by my instruction. If they persist, contact —I'll escalate it to the URA Association and have their credentials revoked."
The ssage was read almost imdiately.
But no reply ca.
Shuta An didn't dwell on it.
"Probably busy…" he murmured.
He had heard from Taiki Shuttle that Dober tended to draw when she was under pressure—the more stressed she beca, the more intense and…revealing her artwork grew.
"Maybe she's drawing Taiki right now?"
The thought crossed his mind briefly.
Not out of any particular intent—but purely from observation. Among those in Dubai, Taiki Shuttle's physique had been the most striking.
"Or maybe she's drawing herself."
That, at least, felt more plausible.
He had seen it once before—a self-portrait of Dober running on the track. Even without a trained eye for art, he could clearly rember the expression she had drawn—
Confident.
Unwavering.
—
Not long before that ssage arrived, Dober had stepped into a small restaurant near Central Tracen Academy, hoping for a quiet mont.
Instead, she was t by the sa familiar sight.
Reporters.
Ever since Shuta An had departed for Dubai, their numbers had steadily increased. Outside of her residence, where they didn't dare approach, there was almost nowhere she could go without encountering them.
Three tis.
Four tis a day.
The sa questions, over and over.
She had even begun preparing scripted responses just to deal with them efficiently.
But even so—It was exhausting.
Still, she answered two routine questions calmly, intending to end the interaction quickly.
Then ca the real question.
A reporter from Shukan Bunshun leaned forward slightly, his tone deceptively casual.
"After the Dubai Turf, Miss Silence Suzuka and her Trainer embraced quite intimately. At Central Tracen Academy, relationships between Trainers and Uma Musu aren't uncommon—so as a mber of the sa team, what is your opinion on their relationship?"
The trap was obvious.
No matter how she answered, it would be twisted.
Sensationalized.
Amplified.
Dober understood that instantly.
For a brief mont, she almost frowned—but stopped herself. Even that expression could be used as "evidence."
So she remained still.
Cold. Composed.
Just as she was considering her response—
Ping.
Her phone lit up.
Shuta Trainer's ssage.
Her eyes brightened slightly.
"I'm sorry," she said calmly, lifting her gaze. "My Trainer has instructed a dia blackout. I won't be accepting any further interviews."
The reporter froze.
"But… we've already started—"
"I have to follow my Trainer's instructions, don't I?" she replied with a faint, polite smile. "Please leave. It's better for everyone."
There was no room left to push.
The reporter hesitated for only a mont before standing up. He had already gotten enough. Even this exchange alone could be turned into an article.
Dober watched him leave, her gaze narrowing slightly. Then, without another word, she picked up her phone again. Her fingers moved quickly.
She opened a chat with jiro Ramonu.
"Let's deal with this before it escalates," she murmured softly.
Her eyes lowered slightly.
"I won't let it affect him."
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