CHAPTER 150: ONE WHO GOT AWAY

The premises of the museum were surprisingly thinly guarded.

Averie thought it was Lucifer’s way of showing gratitude for all the bad he had done in this new world.

But that wasn’t so.

The pair of guards on duty turned out to be a rather horny couple.

They were busy imitating the mating technique of dogs in a car parked at the edge of the parking lot.

Averie would’ve liked to film it for his episode about Zoology, but the crew wasn’t keen on it.

"We don’t want to get sued."

"They are doing it in a public space. They can’t sue us for a sheiling."

"We are trespassing. They can take us to court and demand our kidneys."

The sound guy clicked his tongue. "Nah, I don’t want to lose my private collection."

"Sorry?"

"What?"

After sharing suspicious glances between them, the four—who had been lying down in their seats—took a peek outside.

The lights weren’t flashing, and the sirens couldn’t be heard.

"Did we survive the storm?"

They had parked on one end of the parking lot, but the moans from the other end were starting to get to them.

"Can’t they keep it down?"

"These are the kinds of people who need to be filmed and put on national television. Not only are they defiling the sanctity of public space, but they are also not doing their jobs."

"Oh?" The first cameraman raised a brow. "I would have thought you would be into this sort of, let’s say, display."

"Are you kidding me?"

Averie looked disgusted.

"I am no coward. If I were in their shoes, I would have done it where everyone could see us. In the middle of the city centre, with mics attached and water breaks every fifteen minutes to interview the participants about their thoughts as if it were a professional sport."

"Well, we will have to cut that part, too. You aren’t making it easy for the editors, are you?"

"Life’s tough; get used to finding awful workplace mates."

After confirming the coast was clear, they quarreled over their next plan.

Averie suggested breaking the padlock and entering the museum.

"It’s a motor museum. We can hide the car inside and make our exit in the morning."

"That’s egregious," said the sound guy. "There are so many flaws with that plan, on top of being a legal trap."

By the majority vote, the plan was shot down, even though Averie tried his very best to bribe them with promises of ’fame and bitches.’

In the end, they decided to return to the city while taking lesser-known roads.

"I am telling you this is a stupid idea." Averie shook his head. "They are going to get us, I assure you."

But nobody paid any attention to the poor guy, who was already upset because of the lady who escaped him.

"She will forever be my ’one who got away.’"

He bitched about it the whole way, so much so that the others began empathizing.

"Happens to everyone, man." The first cameraman shook his head. "There was this charming lady I had a chance with, but I blew it because I thought too highly of myself."

His eyes were lost in the glow of the passing streetlights.

"I see her sometimes, walking with her daughter and husband. Makes you wonder what could have been."

Averie wondered if such sentimentality, as well as the man who was usually supposed to film it, had any room in an episode about crime.

But strangely enough, he thought regret and crime were often interlinked.

Even if the criminal regretted nothing, the victim’s family and friends often did.

"You haven’t moved on?" Averie asked.

"I did."

He closed his eyes. He wanted to say something, anything, just a little more. But no words left his lips.

"It’s rough out there, huh?" muttered the second cameraman.

Averie’s gaze turned to the rear-view mirror, where the burly man’s face was reflected.

He looked like he was reminiscing, and in his hand was a ring.

"You married?" Averie asked.

He absent-mindedly nodded his head. "Was."

"Divorce?"

He fiddled with the ring some more before pocketing it.

"Breast cancer."

"I’m sorry to hear that."

Those weren’t empty words. In the silence, where only the sound of wind and friction played in the background, Averie truly felt sorry for the man.

"It’s been years. There’s nothing to cry over. It’s—"

He took a shaky breath.

"It’s only after she was gone that I understood how much she truly meant. I had seen it so many times and thought I was prepared. But it never gets stale, losing your wife or child."

The man’s expression looked like a portrait depicting torture.

"It’s better to hold them close, even if you’re unsure, Mr. Quinn."

Averie nodded.

It’s not as if he didn’t understand it, but having experienced death, he didn’t know how to feel about it.

’And yet, he isn’t wrong.’

His eyes turned to the sound guy.

"What about you? It’s fine if you want to share any heartbreaks. We can edit it out if you want. Who wants to see grown men crying, anyway?"

The man looked out the window and sighed.

"Well," he began, "there was one. She wasn’t unlike others, but she was a good gal. She was a little on the thicker side. I thought it would be easier."

He scoffed, mocking a prideful man who was himself.

"I sang her all the sweet things and promised all that I didn’t have."

"And she found out?"

"She didn’t need to. She saw through me."

He tapped on the window, trying to remove a dirt stain. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t. It was on the outside.

"I knew she had low self-esteem, and it played to my disadvantage. She couldn’t believe that someone had approached her with good intentions. She thought I was trying to pull an insidious farce on her."

Averie looked into the mirror.

There was a shade of despair on the face of the man.

"She killed herself not long after."