After our odyssey in search of appropriate outfits, we head upstairs to the VIP lounge. From the second floor of a massive bar facing the stage, we watch as a sea of people begins to gather, claiming their spots for the show.

  As soon as I arrive, I greet and socialize — this is my element. It’s so natural, so effortless. Somehow, the conversation never runs dry, even though their interests are completely different from mine.

  After making the proper introductions to almost everyone, Ella gives me a small, timid smile, steps closer, and discreetly whispers, “Tonight, we’re the ones feeling out of place.”

  I study her, a little concerned, but she shakes her head reassuringly. “Enjoy yourself. If you need us, we’ll be over there, so don’t worry.”

  I scan the room and take it all in — powerful people everywhere. Individuals who probably intimidate most, knowing they represent major brands from the oil industry, automotive giants, or tech magnates.

  But I’ve gotten used to dealing with people who seem to live in another world. Who were born into another world. I adapted to it.

  Slowly, I start to understand the real reason the sponsors are here. They’re promoting their brands in the off-road challenges, featuring different vehicle categories throughout the festival. Plenty of food and music to go along with it.

  “Sales skyrocketed during and after the pandemic. The Van Life movement really took off — people looking for a new lifestyle, a sense of adventure,” boasts a man whose entire presence screams excess.

  “It shifted a lot of mindsets and increased remote work opportunities,” his youngest son chimes in.

  “I don’t know many digital nomads. Was the impact really that big?” I ask, and they nod slowly, their smiles growing.

  “And so did customizations — very expensive ones,” the older son, eyes practically turning into dollar signs, puffs up his chest like a peacock.

  He doesn’t just share his father’s name; he seems to have inherited the same personality. Victor Senior, Victor Junior, and then there’s Daniel — the youngest, clearly an outsider to the Victor connection.

  “Some people prefer doing the customizations themselves — buying the products, making the building process part of the experience,” Daniel interjects, reclaiming his spot in the conversation after being sidelined by his brother’s theatrics.

  “Sometimes, it’s even more about the shared experience — doing it with friends and family,” I say.

  “The impact wasn’t just about social distancing paranoia. It changed the way a lot of us live — and how we see the world,” an elegantly dressed man with silver hair says as he approaches, intrigued by the discussion. “I know some actors end up living in trailers during productions. Are you here because you’re interested in this lifestyle?”

  “I've stayed in a few trailers, and I've noticed that they keep getting more and more comfortable,” I recall Sam — he’s an ass, but his truck was amazing. “Some of them are better than regular houses. Traveling the world in one must be a dream for many.”

  I can’t deny it’s tempting. Something I’d actually consider doing between projects. Like this impromptu trip with my friends — except, you know, better planned.

  “And what did you think?”

  “Way harder than I expected.” I run my fingers across my forehead, wiping away sweat just from thinking about the difficulties. “Off-roading is complex, and nature is unpredictable. But once the worst is over, it actually becomes funny — it creates unforgettable stories to tell.”

  “Did you make any on this trip?”

  “Aside from getting stuck in the middle of a storm, breaking the oil filter, throwing myself in front of a chainsaw, and almost getting killed?”

  Encouraged by their curiosity, I tell them everything — carefully avoiding any mention of Sam, aside from referring to him as the man who helped us.

  I won’t badmouth someone who lent a hand. But I sure as hell won’t praise a man who hated me with every fiber of his being.

  When I finish, the older gentleman comments, “Can’t deny that obstacles make for the most interesting stories.”

  “A series of misfortunes even more so,” I add, and he smiles in agreement.

  “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes,” I overhear a waiter informing an older woman.

  Slowly, I start making my way through the room, scanning for the others. From a distance, I spot Wally’s head towering over the crowd, moving toward the most secluded part of the tent.

  It’s only when I get closer — when I see who they’re approaching — that I recognize him.

  The demon I never wanted to see again.

  Thank God I didn’t talk shit about him. Or mention how weird he is. He’d probably bring up the misunderstanding just for revenge.

  Loafers, a plain black suit, white dress shirt — no tie, top buttons undone. Sam. A rebel in contrast to the suited elites and the laid-back bohemians. Caught somewhere in between the richest of the rich.

  He sits there, elegantly poised — commanding respect while simultaneously radiating an I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you energy.

  Then Zoe hops onto the seat beside him. The moment he realizes it’s her, he changes, his expression softening into the ghost of a smile.

  I notice Daniel — the overlooked son — sees this as his chance to get closer. And he’s not the only one. A few others move past me, eager to insert themselves.

  Sam exchanges a few words with Wally and Ella, who joins them. Then, finally, he lifts his head, clearly searching for someone.

  Me.

  The moment our eyes meet, he stands.

  Daniel makes a move toward him, but the older gentleman steps in, blocking his path. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “You’ve already had your chance. Sam isn’t interested in working with you.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He tries to push past.

  “Haven’t your CEOs tormented him enough?”

  “And yet, you didn’t stop them from talking. But with me, it’s different? Why? Is it because you know I actually have something to offer? Because you know I can win your precious genius over — not with profit margins and statistics, but with real project opportunities?”

  The old man clenches his jaw.

  “You can’t stop me from talking to him,” Daniel says.

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

  Sam tries to slip away unnoticed, but the white-haired man grabs his arm.

  “Do I really have to stay here?” He sighs. “You know I can’t stand these kinds of events. I win people over with my work — by offering them incredible vehicles, not by standing around making small talk. You might as well put a statue of me in the corner; it’d have the same effect. Just let me get back to work.”

  The older man looks at him, then at Daniel, who is clearly trying to steal away his dedicated yet antisocial employee — one who, judging by the competition for his attention, really must be a genius.

  “Fine, you can go. Good job today. And try to get some rest, too.”

  Sam’s usual scowl transforms into a beaming smile. He’s free from his torture.

  “Before you leave, could we talk for a minute?” Daniel asks. Sam’s face immediately darkens, his glare sharp enough to kill — the same one he gives me.

  Daniel tenses, just slightly, but holds his ground. So it’s not just me.

  I’m reveling in this tiny victory — until Sam suddenly moves toward me, clearly trying to escape him. He quickens his pace, heading for the nearest exit.

  When his eyes flicker to mine, I give him a small nod and take a step forward. Maybe I can save him from this inconvenient man.

  For a second, I think he’ll acknowledge me. Maybe even allow himself the slightest sign of relief. But instead—

  He looks away. Brushes past me without a glance.

  And as he passes, he mutters, low and sharp, “You’ve never seen me before.”

  I freeze.

  Did he just—?

  My brain short-circuits, trying to process the sheer audacity. Not just ignoring me. Erasing me. Like I’m an unfortunate accident he refuses to acknowledge.

  Heat rushes to my face. I turn to call him out, maybe throw something at the back of his stupid, too-relaxed head—

  But he’s already gone.

  I look around, waiting for someone — anyone — to react, to confirm that this actually happened.

  Zoe and Ella? Oblivious. Focused on a waiter with a tray of appetizers.

  The white-haired man? Engaged in polite conversation, as if the most blatant social assassination of the century didn’t just occur.

  But Wally?

  Wally sees.

  And he smirks.

  Slow. Delighted. Like he’s savoring the moment.

  That bastard never tires of humiliating me.

  “Where do you know Sam from?” I hear the white-haired man ask.

  “He’s the one who helped us yesterday,” I reply, inserting myself into the conversation.

  “Sam helped you?”

  “Yeah, the guy from my story.”

  The man raises an eyebrow, skeptical. So Sam isn’t the type to go around helping people. Guess he must’ve just felt sorry for the woman and kid.

  “He doesn’t usually do that?”

  “Didn’t you say you had dinner with the guy? And even slept in his truck?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man looks even more intrigued now.

  “I imagine—” He pauses. “Yes, Sam is a person of few words. I just find it interesting that he even agreed to speak with you. Especially with the child. Normally, he doesn’t have much… patience. Are you staying for the whole festival?”

  “Yeah, why?” Ella pulls Zoe closer, also curious.

  “I don’t know if Sam told you, but… he’s my lead engineer in the development sector. But to me, he’s not just an employee — he’s like a son. A difficult son.”

  Difficult?

  He’s an insufferable pain in the ass.

  “I believe it’s because his mind works differently. It makes him incredibly creative, but at the same time, rebellious. And he can’t stand being around people. Let alone crowds.”

  Different? No. He just doesn’t care about being polite. He walks around flipping people off—mentally—expecting them to deal with him.

  “We met at a car expo. He was in his first year of college, and even back then, his car outperformed every other model. His inventions have only improved since.

  “Still, working with him isn’t easy. He does most of his projects alone, only sending prototypes and simulations to the other team leaders. He refuses to interact with them in person.

  Keeping up with his thoughts is nearly impossible, and patience isn't his strong suit.”

  I can just imagine the way he glares at people — judging them like they’re all idiots for not immediately understanding whatever the hell he’s talking about.

  “I like him,” Zoe chimes in, defending him. “It’s fun talking to him.”

  “I believe he’s gotten used to speaking as little as possible because people struggle to follow his thinking. He says people understand him better when he keeps most of the conversation in his head.”

  The man laughs.

  I don’t.

  He talked more to Zoe, a four-year-old, than to me.

  How stupid does he think I am?

  “I’m glad you got to talk to him, sweetheart.”

  “I felt better after a while. At first, I got a little lost when he finally started talking more during dinner,” Ella says, choosing to be polite. After all, it’s not this man’s fault that Sam is the way he is.

  Poor old man. He must spend half his life apologizing for Sam humiliating everyone he works with. Just a few hours with him had already been hell.

  “Did Sam talk a lot with you yesterday?” The man brightens up.

  “He even taught Zoe…” Ella says.

  “Now I can count to a thousand!”

  “And you — I imagine Sam was excited to meet you. He loves your movies. Did he ask for an autograph?”

  …What?

  Is this guy insane? Are we even talking about the same person? The Sam I met looked at me like I was something he’d scraped off the bottom of his overpriced hiking boots. He practically treated me like a walking inconvenience. A fan? Sam?

  My mind replays every cold glare, every dismissive gesture, trying to find even a hint of admiration. Nothing. Just pure, unadulterated contempt.

  “Uh… not exactly.” I manage, my brain still short-circuiting at this revelation.

  “He was probably just nervous. Would you mind signing one for me to give to him?”

  He’s messing with me, isn’t he?

  “JJ, just do it,” Ella urges, stopping me from glaring at the man any longer.

  “What name should I write?”

  “Make it out to Johan and Sam.”

  He hands me his wallet. If this man actually gives it to Sam, he’s going to toss it. Maybe even burn it first. Shame — it’s a nice wallet. Probably expensive, too.

  “Thank you. You must have met Felina and Furioso as well.”

  “Yes, they’re adorable,” Zoe replies.

  “They’re just like Sam — completely crazy like Felina, cold and dangerous like Furioso. But both are affectionate in their own way.”

  Zoe nods in agreement.

  Demonic like the cat and antisocial like the dog. Only showing kindness when chivalry demands it.

  I want to correct them, but I bite my tongue.

  “Dinner is served,” someone announces.

  “I hope to see you all tomorrow.”

  I hope not. I don’t want to get involved with anyone close to Sam.

  We head to our seats.

  “He’s a fan of yours,” Wally whispers.

  “With that death stare? Yeah, maybe in the way a serial killer is obsessed with his victim.”

  “Does he delight in the process of torturing you?”

  “At least now it’s confirmed — he’s weird with everyone, not just me. The real mystery is why he was nice to you guys.”

  Relief washes over me. It wasn’t personal. I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just out of his damn mind.

  The event organizer stands, raising his champagne glass.

  “Tonight, we’re not just celebrating the annual Outdoor Show Festival. We are also marking the official countdown — six months until the grand opening of the new Outback Way route. A route wilder than ever before!

  The first of seven of the most dangerous courses in history, hosting the most insane off-road races the world has ever seen…

  ‘Supreme Wheels Adaptation: the global challenge’!”

  The crowd erupts in applause.

  I see the insane excitement in everyone’s eyes.

  “This new Outback Way route will push us to the limit!

  Who will overcome the obstacles the fastest?

  Who will finish in the best condition, with the fewest mechanical failures?

  Who will be the most innovative and creative?

  And many more prizes for specialized categories.

  But will there be a champion — one ultimate winner who dominates the three main criteria?

  Registration is open for only a limited time. One month to enter this brutal competition!”

  A single second of silence — then chaos.

  Sponsors finally exhale, talking excitedly, while others buzz with questions.

  I have no idea why I care about the details.

  But, just like Wally, Ella, and Zoe, we remain attentive to every detail we gather from the information.