Damn! Damn! Chapter 33

Rustle.

Achim clutched the blanket wrapped around his hand as he heard the rustling sound of his body turning over.

The silk blanket clung to his palm like an embrace. The texture was automatically comforting, and Achim savored the sensation to his heart’s content.

It was cozy. The bed beneath his back was plush, the temperature was just right, and a floral scent seemed to waft from somewhere in the room.

Was it a dream? It probably was. Otherwise, there was no way he would be lying in such a comfortable bed.

The corners of his mouth curved up on their own. Drinking in the luxury with his five senses, Achim turned onto his right side. At that, the pleasant fragrance grew even stronger.

Achim leaned his head forward to chase the scent. As he drew closer to it, however, an inexplicable sense of deja vu washed over him.

It was a scent he had smelled before—one that felt deeply familiar—and Achim sniffed the air instinctively.

This was…

…Michael…

“…!”

The moment the man crossed his mind, Achim snapped his eyes wide open.

Soon, his eyes grew as large as saucers. Michael was lying there right in front of him, fast asleep.

Only then did the events of the previous day flash across his mind like a panorama, forcing Achim to remember everything—including the fact that this place was the man’s bedroom.

Holy shit!

It felt as though someone had struck him on the back of the head, and his mind cleared instantly. To think he had slept so peacefully in that bastard’s bedroom, and right next to him at that. Achim was utterly appalled by the hard-to-believe reality.

What do I do? He’s sensitive, so if I move, he’ll wake up. But I can’t just lie here forever, either.

As he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them while agonizing over a solution, a beautiful face that looked exactly as though a master painter had crafted it with utmost care filled his vision.

Staring blankly at him, Achim let out an internal lament. He felt it was a terrible tragedy that the God who sculpted the man had completely forgotten to include a decent personality.

If he just kept his mouth shut, no one could possibly be handsomer…

It was just as Achim was simultaneously admiring and cursing him. The long, thick, golden eyelashes smoothly swept upward.

There wasn’t even time to be startled. As Achim froze completely while staring at him, Michael’s wax-doll face soon shifted, and he let out a lazy sigh.

“Hmm…”

“…”

“I didn’t know.”

The very first thing out of his mouth upon waking up was complete nonsense. Was he talking in his sleep? Just as Achim was harboring a reasonable suspicion—

Michael, whom God had created while leaving out one crucial element, parted his reddish lips.

“That you had such a sinister hobby of watching me in secret.”

Ah… fuck.

Achim swallowed a curse and, unlike the man, squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yvonne, by any chance, have you seen Martina?”

Achim stopped what he was doing and turned around to find a fellow maid standing there. He roughly dusted his hands off on his clothes and shook his head.

“I need to get back something I lent her, but she hasn’t been anywhere to be seen all day today. I heard it isn’t even her day off.”

“…”

Where on earth did she go? Achim stared blankly for a moment at the maid, who was muttering and letting out a heavy sigh.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to ask about Martina’s disposition yesterday. To not be seen all day long on a day that wasn’t even a holiday…

“An Omega, I see.”

Michael’s face naturally sprang to mind, but Achim shook his head. Knowing the man’s usual temperament, it was the most probable deduction, but he had no concrete evidence.

Achim tried to push the speculation aside for later.

“I still have things to take care of.”

However, at the voice that suddenly echoed in his mind, Achim’s hands froze mid-air. As the image of the suit splattered with droplets of blood lingered as an afterimage, his guess that it might actually be true began to carry more weight.

“Have you asked Greta?”

Greta was the person directly beneath the housekeeper, who was the head of the maids. Since days off were designated by the housekeeper, and today wasn’t a holiday, Achim figured asking Greta was the best option.

At Achim’s words, the maid nodded quickly, agreeing that she should do so.

“But, Yvonne.”

“Yeah?”

“That scarf… isn’t it from that place? …Hmm, I think it is.”

Achim lowered his head, following the direction the maid was pointing.

The maid dropped a name, but it was a brand he had never heard of before. When Achim said he didn’t know it, the maid wore an even more shocked expression.

“You don’t know that famous brand? The one recognized even among luxury goods?”

The maid asked with wide eyes. Finding the intense gaze burdensome, Achim subtly took a step back.

“Then you didn’t buy it yourself?”

“…”

“Was it a gift?”

Achim broke into a quiet sweat at the barrage of questions that followed.

Looking at the maid whose eyes were sparkling with anticipation, Achim deliberated on an answer for a moment. Since it belonged to the man, it was true that he hadn’t bought it himself, but it wasn’t exactly a gift, either.

Let’s just give a vague answer. Just as Achim reached that conclusion and was about to speak—

“Did Mr. Michael give it to you by any chance?”

“…!”

Achim instantly failed to hide his startled expression. He wondered if she was a mind reader, but on second thought, he realized it wasn’t a difficult guess to make given the rumors circulating about him and that bastard.

Moreover, wearing an item that everyone else recognized while claiming not to know it was a paradox in itself, even to his own eyes.

A few hours ago, the one who had caught Achim just as he was about to leave the bedroom was none other than Michael.

“Hold on.”

When Achim looked back with his hand on the doorknob, the man was already standing right flush against his back, though he hadn’t noticed him approaching. As Michael raised his hand, Achim turned around defensively by reflex.

Just looking at the man naturally put his nerves on edge, causing him to take a defensive stance at any given moment.

“…”

“…”

As they stood facing each other and Achim quietly looked up at him, Michael tilted his head at an angle and raised his hand once more.

Achim’s eyes, which had been filled with a fair amount of wariness, quickly turned round.

To his astonishment, what Michael held in his hand wasn’t a knife or a handgun, but a long strip of silk fabric, and he was attempting to wrap it around Achim’s neck himself.

As the man’s body scent drew sharply closer and their bodies pressed tighter together, Achim let out a flustered voice.

“I’ll do it.”

“…”

“Give it to m—”

“You don’t even know how to tie it.”

“…”

Damn it. Unable to counter the argument, Achim clamped his mouth shut.

Wasn’t it fine to just wrap it roughly and make a knot? However, as the scene of it coming undone so easily the previous day because he had wrapped it that way flashed back, Achim had no choice but to swallow his curses.

Having someone else drape something over his body was definitely an unfamiliar sensation. Ever since he could remember back at the orphanage during his childhood, he had handled everything on his own, so this was essentially his very first time.

But for that person to be Michael Bernhard, of all people. How on earth had things turned out this way?

It was just as Achim was trying to trace back to the starting point of it all.

“Ah—”

The moment Michael’s fingertips brushed against the nape of his neck, Achim was so startled by the sound he had blurted out that he slapped his hand over his mouth to block it.

“…!”

“…”

Achim blinked his eyes wide while keeping his mouth covered. Am I… this ticklish?

Then again, his only contact with others had been during tests of strength back in his mercenary days, so it made sense that he hadn’t had the chance to find out until now.

Damn it, to think I have a vulnerability like this…

Embarrassed by the noise he had made with his own mouth, Achim couldn’t even meet the man’s eyes and snapped his head to the side.

Because of who his counterpart was, acting completely unfazed was impossible. Feeling his face grow uncharacteristically hot, Achim roughly wiped the opposite cheek with the back of his hand.

He expected the man to say something—whether to mock him or speak sarcastically. Yet, Michael was uncharacteristically quiet.

The man was the only person with whom silence felt more anxiety-inducing than speech. Just as Achim was about to raise his head, the hand that had paused near his neck began to move once more.

“…”

“…”

What’s gotten into him? Why isn’t he making any sarcastic remarks for once?

Even while Achim raised questions inside his mind, Michael’s hands moved steadily. Furthermore, the touch was gentle to an unfitting degree, and perfectly elegant without a single wasted motion.

To his surprise, Achim felt a sense of humanity from him for the first time through that touch. However, as if questioning why he had ever thought such a thing, he immediately whipped his own mindset back into shape.

It felt like an absolute eternity by Achim’s standards before it was finally over.