Damn! Damn! Chapter 20

At the polite but firm refusal, Michael pulled up the corners of his lips and nodded back in turn. Since even a small nod of his head was elegant, Achim shook his head internally instead of admiring him.

— That’s quite a shame too.

Speaking with an expression that didn’t look remorseful in the slightest, Michael turned around, walked over to his desk, and sat in his chair. He picked up one of the scattered documents and commanded,

— If you’re not going to translate, then be on your way.

With that, Achim had folded his waist in a bow without a shred of hesitation and stepped straight out of the office just moments ago.

After Wolfgang finished seeing him off, Achim walked down the hallway alone for a good while, stepped onto the stairs, and was about to pass the second floor when he caught sight of the spot where he had bumped into Martina and paused in place for a moment.

Come to think of it, back then…

— Have I… met you somewhere before?

Thinking about it, he had said something similar back then as well.

Was he using roundabout words to insult him by saying he looked common? Since the fellow possessed a knack for twisting and listening to words on a regular basis, it was entirely possible.

At any rate, what a ill-tempered bastard. Am I not curious about why he’s looking for him? Because it’s none of my business!

The smell of rusted iron and the characteristic stuffy air of a deep underground. And a space surrounded by darkness on all sides to the point where one couldn’t see even right in front of them.

Standing inside it, Achim could tell. That this place was a dream.

Drip, drip, drip…

Achim smoothly turned his head. He couldn’t see ahead, but his body moved instinctively along the water sound that carried over intermittently.

He was standing still for a long while, listening to the sound that made it seem like water leaking from the ceiling was carving out a small trench. Just as he was about to move his feet, Achim dropped his head at the familiar sensation felt in his grasp.

Because it was so pitch black, he couldn’t even see what it was, but he knew. That held in his right hand was his beloved Glock 17S.

It was a model whose usefulness had been modified into a more efficient form by personally installing a manual safety, removing the finger grooves, and making the slide stop lever ambidextrous. Because it was his very own, which existed nowhere else in the world, he could tell at a single glance.

Achim toyed with the Glock, whose grip angle was slightly tilted, as if stroking it.

While holding the Glock that fit perfectly in his hand, Leon, who had been a novice during his mercenary days, suddenly crossed his mind. The scene flashed by of how the kid, despite being two years younger than him, had complained for a long time that his hands were so large that the web between his thumb and index finger got bitten when gripping the Glock, before finally solving it by inserting an aftermarket part.

I wonder if he’s doing well. After finishing his brief reminiscence, Achim shoved the Glock into the holster attached to his harness. Although it was an action done unconsciously, it was because, as it always was in his dreams, the harness running from his back to his chest sat like an alter ego over his all-black operational attire.

It was just when he shoved the Glock into the holster out of habit. A presence of someone carried over from somewhere, prompting Achim to reflexively and swiftly lower his body and pull the Glock out to grip it again.

Moving nimbly while muffling his footsteps, he quickly hid his body behind a wall that his fingertips brushed against.

Leaning his head against the damp wall, Achim raised his chin. Then, he stared into somewhere in the darkness.

The corners of his lips pulled up on their own. A familiar and exciting sensation had overtaken his tension.

After this, a hand-to-hand combat would unfold. Achim knew the outcome of this dream, which started with the same background and ended with the same conclusion. And he was highly anticipating the process of reaching that outcome.

It was an opportunity to clash again, even if only in a dream, with that bastard who was his bitter enemy—the one who had plunged him into the mire eight years ago.

You son of a bitch. Achim chewed on a curse, but conversely, his expression closely resembled that of a fish that had finally encountered water.

Feeling his rapidly beating pulse, Achim leaned his back against the cold wall and chambered his Glock. Inside the quiet and dark space, a sharp metallic clack echoed as the iron pieces clashed against each other.

Because it felt like the bastard would manifest at any moment from that, Achim concentrated all his senses on his hearing while keeping his breath suppressed.

By now, the dripping water sound had ceased as well. Inside the space that was filled only with silence, the thudding—no, clicking sound of dress shoes began to carry over.

While listening to it, Achim couldn’t shake off the thought that something was strange. Because up until now, the dream had always started the fight with an unannounced gunshot, and the situation had unfolded so urgently that not even footsteps, let alone the clicking of heels, could be heard.

Listening to the sound of dress shoes drawing closer and closer, Achim slid his head slightly out past the pillar.

His eyes, which had grown accustomed to the darkness, swiftly scanned the counterpart as if analyzing someone walking over with a leisurely stride from the opposite side.

A suit…?

Even though he had had the same dream several times. The bastard in the dream, which perfectly replicated his appearance from eight years ago, had never once worn that kind of attire.

His towering height, his broad shoulders, and the overwhelming sense of presence felt from his mere existence told him that it was undoubtedly that bastard, but Achim couldn’t shake off the sense of disparity felt from the appearance that had changed for the first time. And the closer the distance got, a surge of unpleasantness welled up for some reason.

Achim put strength into his hand gripping the Glock. Well, at any rate, wasn’t it enough to just put a bullet hole in his chest? If he just drove a bullet near his heart like back then eight years ago…

It was during the moment he took his eyes off for a split second. When he vanished from his field of vision, Achim blinked his eyes wide.

Even this was different from the dreams up until now. He would have launched a reckless physical assault if he were going to, but he had never once concealed his form.

At this point, he was confused as to whether it was a dream or not. Could it be inside his imagination? It was the moment Achim turned over a absurd thought.

Just as he felt a presence right behind his back, a solid forearm soon choked Achim’s neck tightly. It happened truly in an instant. There wasn’t even room to dodge, let alone time to notice. A beast-like strength shackled Achim, leaving him unable to move an inch.

Achim desperately wrapped his hands around the bastard’s arm and gripped it as if tearing it apart. Did dreams evolve too because one had them so much? The sensation of his throat tightening was so vivid that Achim thought it was quite realistic.

That wasn’t all. Finding that it wasn’t only his neck that was being choked but that there was a sensation of something brushing against his buttocks, Achim paused, freezing his hands that were wrapped around the bastard’s thick arm.

What solid thing could there be that would brush against his buttocks and be felt through the fabric?

Even at that moment when his windpipe was squeezed and the veins stood out on his neck, a chill crept over him for some reason, prompting Achim to pull his lower body forward as if dragging it away.

It was at that moment. The fellow behind his back let out a low groan, “Hmm.”

Fuck.

He didn’t know what it was, but an alarm went off in his head. Even including all the numerous blade cuts and bullet showers he had experienced, he had never been more terrified than this.

As an unspeakable dread assailed him, Achim snapped his eyes open and flailed his body. At the same time, the bastard behind his back wrapped one arm around Achim’s waist and pulled him backward.

It was when Achim, dragged away by that brutal strength, was blinking his eyes in shock. He pressed his lower body between Achim’s buttocks and waist, and began to stealthily rub it up and down.

At that, Achim literally fell into a state of absolute chaos.

You fucking crazy bastard! Why are you pressing that against my ass?!

At this point, it had reached a stage where he couldn’t even distinguish whether it was a dream or what. He felt so humiliated that he truly wanted to just die right like this.

As if being pushed around by brute force wasn’t enough, to end up becoming a mating target for another man.

Achim wanted to scream wildly along with foul curses, but unfortunately, his voice wouldn’t come out, so he clenched his teeth.

When anger was added to his selective constraints along with his humiliated heart, Achim ultimately exerted superhuman strength.

After striking the bastard’s rock-like abdomen with his elbow, he spun his body half a turn to slip out, and slammed the massive frame straight down onto the floor.

A loud thud! echoed through the enclosed space.

Since he had no intention of giving him even room to breathe, Achim mounted on top of the giant frame the moment he brought it down.

He immediately grabbed the bastard’s collar tightly. The moment he rolled his opposite hand into a fist in a flash and drew it back behind his back—

Feeling that the pupils he clashed with in the darkness were somehow strangely familiar, Achim flinched with his fist in midair just as he was about to swing it.

Achim slowly lowered his gaze. A straight, sharply defined bridge of the nose, a hollowed philtrum, and plump lips with slightly upturned corners.