CHAPTER 175: KEROSENE

Averie was sitting at the coffee table in his quarters. He wished he were alone, but the room was brimming with his friends and acquaintances.

There were the usual suspects—Hyerin and Min-Ha; they were eating popcorn beside him.

There was Celli, who had a beat stuck in her head since the morning.

Yoko, too, was present. She and Mrs. Nakamura were busy talking about fashion.

’He isn’t here.’

Mr. Nakamura had declined the offer to join them—with a smile, no less. Averie knew why.

’These married people are all the same.’

Hideo Nakamura was almost emotional when he found out he could have some alone time away from his wife.

He gave Averie a firm pat on the shoulder. His sparkling teeth were beaming; reflected in them was a night of heavy drinking with his work buddies.

’Again, I feel awkward.’

When his sensibilities had returned, he did not know, but he was self-aware enough not to crack a sensitive joke even though he wanted to.

So many times, that week, he had come close to telling jokes about dead men and cemeteries. Yet, he had kept his mouth shut.

It wasn’t as if he had any malicious intent behind his urges. The man simply saw Julia’s fallen face and thought, ’What better than a joke about dead husbands?’

He did not know how to cheer up someone, yet he was dragged along to her by Hyerin, who had mistaken the two for a budding couple.

’Why did they drag her here?’

Julia, wearing a depressing countenance, was also in the room. Keeping her company was the best they could do for the widow.

Thankfully, she had deemed a week of bawling to be enough.

’Why doesn’t she leave the cruise?’

At the port at Le Havre, the police were more than willing to escort her to a nearby hotel. But the woman had declined the offer.

’Her husband’s been shipped off to his family in London, but she doesn’t want to go? What about her daughter? Does she know? Is she mourning?’

Although behind schedule, the cruise had departed from Le Havre the very evening they docked.

Even the police’s insistent requests could not stop the captain from continuing the journey. He wasn’t afraid of the police. The ship’s parent company was drowning in money, and not making it to Lisbon on time was what truly had him worried.

So, they had left a contingent aboard.

And to Averie’s dismay, it involved Alex Lee, the detective from Seoul.

’Loathsome bastard wasted my week.’

He had spent the last few days being questioned by the man. He had to answer where he was and what he was doing at the time. Yet every time, Averie refused to be genuine.

His answer was always the same:

’I was at sea, enjoying the breeze.’

It had the detective frustrated, but that was always how their questioning went, even back home.

’Well, at least, it saved me from the female support sessions,’ he thought, his gaze travelling from one guest to another.

The mystery of the murder may have kept the passengers excited with morbid curiosity, but it had Averie wishing he hadn’t accepted Xinema’s offer to join the cruise trip.

’What’s done is done.’

He snapped out of it.

’At least tonight, I can rest.’

It was Sunday, 8:58 PM according to GMT.

And as the ship was barely past Lisbon, there was practically no time difference.

The second episode of Long Live the Quinn would soon begin.

Averie glared at Hyerin. It was her idea to invite everyone to their room for a night of socializing while watching Averie on TV.

While shaking his head, the good actor heard a familiar tune. It was the opening theme of Long Live the Quinn, My Cocaine in Your Urine.

Averie leaned against his little chair.

To his left was the beautiful night view of the sea, and across the room, to his right, was the television playing the opening theme.

On the screen, Quinn was sitting on an ordinary chair in a studio with a white background.

Around the chair, a number of miscellaneous items were scattered. There were pictures of him in front of a zoo, bathed in a golden light on a pew, lost in the beauty of a mounted painting, posing in front of a car, and so on.

The lights flickered, and the scene transitioned seamlessly.

Draped in red satin and a crown on his head, Quinn was sitting on a throne, his legs crossed over the armrest.

The opening theme ended.

Celli made a circle with her mouth. "That is nice."

"I like it," said Yoko.

Quinn was walking back to his apartment building, bags in both his hands.

From a top angle, from atop a circular staircase, he was shown climbing up an old building.

After several floors, he reached his intended destination—a black door.

He opened it after fiddling with the key for three entire minutes.

It was frustrating enough that Averie, while watching the scene with bated breath, nearly swore.

’No. I need to keep calm. I need to improve myself.’

Quinn dropped the bags on the floor after entering the apartment.

All kinds of meat fell out of the bags, but he provided no explanations for them.

"While I was stuck in my glass cage at the zoo, I had a vision."

For the first time since the start of the episode, he directly looked at the camera.

"It was cold, and the mountainside I was climbing barefoot was blanketed in white. Snow was everywhere."

He took a pillowcase and stuffed it with meat. He repeated the process a few times.

"The chilling ache in my feet disappeared as I reached a cliff. Snow displaced by my feet hurtled down the cliffside, but what reached was only vapors. The pit below was full of fire."

He arranged the pillows in the shape of a human being on his bed.

"It burned and flashed with fury as I spied a goat’s head staring back at me from within the pit. I knew then—" He looked at the camera. "—that it was a message from God."

From one of the compartments of his kitchen, he took out a large red container. Kerosene was written on it.

"Now, I must meet the God. I must converse with him and ask why he sent me such a message. But a bit of inquiry told me that God isn’t giving any interviews. That’s been the case since his son was crucified, apparently."

He poured the clear liquid from the container all over his bed. With a lit lighter, he turned to the camera.

"So, I have scoured the internet for a solution and came to realize that I must seek out the closest thing to God on Earth."

After taking in the view of his room from the threshold of his door, he threw the lighter across the room and closed the door behind him.

"That’s right. I am talking about the British royal family."

As he crossed the street and left the frame, a window puffing out heavy smoke seemed to respond to the sirens blaring in the air.

The scene transitioned.

Quinn was sitting at a coffee table in a hotel room.

"Before we really begin, I must ask a question that has been bugging me. How does it feel to be an English prince?"

The camera panned. The man sitting across from him was a Nigerian fellow with gold chains weighing down his neck.

"What?"

"What does it feel like to be a prince? Do you feel any shame in spending tax money on your luxury?"

"What are you talking about, my man?"

Quinn looked down at the paper in his hand that had all his preparation for the interview jotted down. "It says here that you are Prince Oblivious."

He murmured, "I suppose you are quite oblivious of your status."

"My guy, Prince Oblivious is my handle."

"Oh?" Quinn reached into his pocket. "You have a handle? I, too, have one."

He took out a door handle and placed it on the wooden table with a loud thunk.

Prince Oblivious threw his glance at it, perplexity stretching his skin.

"You carry around doorknobs?"

"Of course. You don’t?"

The two shared a gaze for a good minute.

"Well—" Prince Oblivious got up. "—I’ll be going then."

"Now, now. Hold up." Quinn retrieved the handle. "The interview isn’t over yet."

"Brother, you don’t even know about me. What are you going to ask?"

"About the crown—"

"I don’t know no crown! I’m not a prince, man! I’m a rapper! Prince Oblivious!"

"Oh, I see." Quinn threw his hands up in apology. "I’m sorry. So, you’re a wrapper?"

"Yes!"

"So, what do you wrap?"

"What?"

"What do you wrap? Do you get paid well enough for wrapping?"

"Brother, you need to know a bit more about the world. Yes, rapping’s good. I’m rich."

"So, what do you wrap?"

"Are you out of your mind? I rap raps!"

Shadow of confusion fell on Quinn’s face. "Why, though?"

They shared a gaze again for a good long minute before the man turned to the door.

"Alright, I’m out."

Quinn had to hold onto his knees to stop him from leaving.