Damn! Damn! Chapter 13

Could Martina have given him the wrong information? As he was contemplating this and about to look away from the silent storeroom, his foot brushed against something in the short, trimmed grass, prompting him to look down.

“…”

A single black flat shoe was lying abandoned on the lawn, catching the dim light. Recognizing the faintly familiar shape, Achim bent down and picked up the shoe.

As he examined the shoe, Achim’s eyes went wide. The face of the kid boasting about how it was a gift from her brother flashed through his mind. Furthermore, there was only one person in this entire mansion who could wear a shoe of this size.

…Dora.

The moment he realized it, Achim whipped his head around to look at the tightly shut storeroom door.

The missing Dora and Dora’s shoe dropped in front of the storeroom. It was ominous. Even if it turned out to be a wrong guess in the end, Achim knew himself well enough to know he wouldn’t be satisfied until he checked inside right this instant.

Achim took three steps back from where he stood. Then, crossing his arms over his chest, he kicked off the ground with all his might.

“…!”

He charged straight ahead and slammed his shoulder hard into the storeroom door, triggering a loud crack as the thick wooden planks splintered.

Deprived of its function so effortlessly by force combined with technique, the door tilted with a dull thud. As the door collapsed into the interior of the storeroom, Achim lightly brushed off the shoulder that had taken the impact for the first time in a while.

It was then. Catching sight of someone’s eyes in the dark storeroom, Achim lowered his body reflexively. Then, within his rapidly scanning vision, a pair of slender legs came into view. At the same time, a man whose eyes were gleaming in the pitch-black storeroom lunged at Achim like a wild beast.

“Ugh!”

However, the man was far too easily grabbed by the collar by Achim.

Choked by the iron grip, the man’s face twisted wretchedly. Achim was a woman and didn’t even have that grand of a physique. The man’s face looked as though he couldn’t comprehend where on earth this kind of strength was coming from.

“Cough…!”

Achim tossed the man into the corner of the storeroom. This was after reaching the conclusion that there was no need to handle a man who looked suspicious to anyone with any care.

With a loud crash, the items stacked on one side of the storeroom collapsed along with the man, making a racket.

While the man couldn’t even compose his body, Achim dusted off both his hands and hurried deep into the storeroom.

It was definitely around here. Achim groped around his surroundings, estimating the position he had seen just moments ago.

As his vision, which had now adjusted to the darkness, filled with someone’s face, Achim dropped to his knees, practically collapsing.

“…Dora.”

He had desperately hoped his prediction wouldn’t match reality. Because of that, the shock was even greater.

Up close, Dora’s face was in a state where literally no part of it was intact.

As if he had been beaten multiple times, the skin around his cheeks and mouth was torn and bleeding, and dark bruises were etched around his eyes, the bridge of his nose, and his jaw. It was at a level where his survival was doubtful.

Achim hurriedly placed a finger under Dora’s nose. When he did, he could feel a faint, extremely thin breath.

“…”

Tracing Dora’s facial features with his eyes, Achim shifted his gaze downward. Staring at the scratched, tiny foot, he slipped the single, ownerless shoe he had been holding all this time onto Dora’s right foot.

After that, Achim silently rose from his spot.

Until Achim turned around and approached him, the man was clutching his waist, which had been slammed during the fall.

Standing before the man in just a few steps, Achim curled one corner of his mouth up into a smirk. Then, in an instant, he brought his right leg up to the height of his opposite knee.

Crack! Along with the sound of a splint snapping in two, the man’s scream echoed.

“Aaaaagh…!”

This time, instead of his waist, the man clutched his right ankle with both hands.

Achim merely tilted his head sideways and looked down at the man rolling on the floor while holding his ankle. It was a detached, listless gaze devoid of a single shred of sympathy, as if simply observing the situation.

The broken bone had pierced through the skin and was protruding out of the man’s ankle. Glancing at the completely twisted ankle that was gushing pools of blood, Achim flattened his upturned lips into a hard line.

“Piece of trash.”

Ignoring the screams echoing in his ears, Achim grabbed the man by the collar, hauled him into a sitting position, and slammed his knee up into the man’s jaw. And before the man’s head could even snap back into place, he struck him across the cheek with a tightly clenched fist. Then, before his head could turn back again, he walloped the opposite cheek with all his might.

Time and again, the man’s head whipped around mercilessly, spraying dark red blood. Before long, the man lost consciousness, unable to withstand the trauma, but Achim remained straddled over him, continuing to rain down his fists.

He didn’t even know how much time had passed. Then, at some point, right around the time he raised his fist above his shoulder once more.

At the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere, Achim froze mid-strike.

It felt as though his thoughts were flowing sluggishly as if time had stopped, and someone had forcefully grabbed him by the hair and dragged him up to the surface.

Only after a long while, as if finally returning to reality, Achim blinked dazedly and turned his head.

“…”

The person filling his focus was the butler. It was impossible to tell whether Wolfgang had come after hearing the man’s screams or if he had come because Martina told him.

When Wolfgang locked eyes with Achim, he slowly lowered his gaze. His lowered gaze landed on the storeroom manager, who had passed the point of being a jelly-like mess and was now closer to a corpse.

In truth, the manager was so covered in blood that it was impossible to discern who he was, but Wolfgang had guessed based on the fact that this was the storeroom.

It was just as Wolfgang was silently looking back and forth between Achim and the storeroom manager. Suddenly, another set of footsteps was heard, and soon, a man of massive stature revealed himself. It was Michael Bernhard.

Only upon seeing him did Achim finally regain his clear senses. At the same time, however, the gravity of the blunder he had committed surged over him like a tidal wave, making him feel as though he might lose his hard-won consciousness all over again.

“Wolfgang.”

Michael, who took a brief look inside the storeroom, gave Wolfgang a short instruction. Though it was nothing more than a casual wave of his right hand, Wolfgang bowed his head as if he understood completely.

When Wolfgang tapped a small walkie-talkie briefly, it didn’t take long before two guards came running to the storeroom. One of them took Dora, and the other took the man who had been pinned beneath Achim off to somewhere.

Achim, who had been sitting slumped until then, reflexively reached a hand out toward the receding Dora. However, because Michael stood right in front of him, blocking his field of vision, Achim was forced to retract his hand.

“Hmm…”

Michael let out a short hum in his cavernous bass voice, then reached his hand out.

His long, straight fingers elegantly stroked Achim’s jawline from beneath his ear down to his chin. It was undeniably a beautiful hand to look at, but for some reason, a creepy sensation washed over Achim, prompting him to snap his head back.

“Whose blood is this?”

Achim raised his eyes silently and stared at him. Asking whose blood it was. He was completely dumbfounded by the sudden question.

After a brief silence, Achim opened his mouth.

“…It belongs to that man.”

A metallic taste seeped through his parted lips. It seemed a stray drop of blood had splattered onto his lips. Acting as if that was highly unpleasant, Achim roughly wiped his lips and cheeks with the backs of his hands and forearms.

Noticing his sleeve quickly stained red after rubbing it a few times, Achim became certain at that moment. I’m getting kicked out.

It had only been a few hours since he received Linus’s advice. For a moment, his head spun as if a pitch-black curtain were falling, causing Achim to squeeze his eyes shut.

Damn it, it’s all over.

It was just as Achim relaxed his shoulders as if giving up and was wiping the blood from around his eyes. He felt something touch the tip of his chin, and his head was forced upward. Achim’s gaze naturally drifted up as well.

Holding Achim’s chin lightly, Michael spoke casually.

“Should I kill him for you?”

“That guy, I mean.” The lips speaking formed a faint curve. Those reddish lips looked as though he had bitten into a poisoned apple.

Perhaps because the spoken words flowed out so lightly, completely contrary to the gravity of their underlying meaning, Achim merely blinked his eyes for a short while.

— He’s dead.

Suddenly, what Linus had said flashed through his mind, and Achim parted his closed lips.

A moment later, matching his gaze with those eyes that held the night within them, Achim asked back,

“Have you ever killed someone before, sir?”