Damn! Damn! Chapter 8

“What’s going on?”

Dora hesitated to answer. In that brief gap, the maid cut in quickly.

“Ha, give me a break. I didn’t take her stuff—”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

Achim snapped. As he directed his gaze toward her, the maid’s shoulders flinched. When the sharp look silenced her, Achim softened his expression and asked Dora again.

“What’s going on?”

At the low, prompting voice, Dora carefully looked up. She glanced back and forth between the maid and Achim as if testing the waters, then hesitated for a long time before speaking.

“M-Martina… she took my things…”

“Is that so?”

At Achim’s indifferent tone, Dora nodded her small head, as if letting it drop.

A moment later, Achim reached out toward Martina. She looked bewildered.

Staring at Achim, who kept his eyes fixed on Dora while holding out an open palm to her, Martina furrowed her brow deeply.

“What?”

Achim’s head turned slowly. He looked at Martina and gave his outstretched hand a slight shake.

“Give it back.”

“What?”

“The things you took from Dora. Return them.”

When Martina just stared in silence, Achim shook his hand again as if to hurry her up.

Martina’s face turned bright red in an instant. Not only was he certain she was the culprit, but he was also asking for the items back so nonchalantly in front of Dora—the sheer audacity caused a wave of humiliation to wash over her.

It wasn’t just Martina who was stunned. Even Dora stared at Achim with a vacant look. A wave of indescribable emotion crashed over her. Seeing Dora look at him as if asking, ‘Why didn’t you ask me any questions?’, Achim gave her a side-glance and smoothed down her small head.

It wasn’t complicated. He simply felt certain that Dora, being so introverted and careful in everything, would never suspect someone based on mere conjecture. Dora must have seen it with her own two eyes.

Achim shook his outstretched hand again.

“Hurry.”

As Achim gave the short order, Martina, who had remained silent, suddenly raised her right hand high. It happened in an instant. She struck Dora’s left cheek hard. With a loud slap, Dora’s face snapped to the side.

“…!”

Achim’s eyes widened to their limit at the unbelievable sight. He strode forward immediately and clamped his hand tightly around Martina’s collar.

Her pristine white blouse, which hadn’t a single wrinkle a moment ago, was crushed and crumpled by his violent grip.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Achim whispered low, his eyes fierce.

Martina’s face turned a different shade of red than before because of a strength uncharacteristic of a woman. She was choking as her airway was constricted. Trapped by her collar, Martina struggled and let out a raspy, gagging sound, like a blocked sink.

Achim gripped the fabric even tighter, until his knuckles turned white. To commit such unprovoked violence… He felt a shudder of disgust at the fact that such types existed everywhere.

He was furious, but he couldn’t bring himself to swing a man’s fist at Martina. Consequently, Achim had no choice but to swallow his rage alone.

That was when it happened. Martina raised her right hand again and this time, slapped Achim across the cheek.

Slap! The sound of the impact rang out, incomparably louder than the first, but amazingly, Achim’s head didn’t move an inch. He was bleeding from the corner of his lip where the force of the blow had split the skin, but Achim didn’t even blink.

As the blood seeped into his mouth, he smacked his lips as if tasting it, then simply wiped it away roughly with the back of his hand.

Seeing this, Martina’s face turned as pale as if she had seen a ghost.

“…Ah.”

Looking at the back of his hand stained with blood, Achim slanted one corner of his mouth upward in admiration. It was no wonder—the blood he tasted for the first time in ages felt sweet.

The same familiar, tingling excitement he felt when holding a Glock a few days ago wrapped around his skin.

Achim had a fairly high tolerance for pain. Despite his slender frame, he had often tested his strength against those much bulkier, and thanks to his natural fighting prowess, the times he had seen his own blood could be counted on one hand.

Those were all things he experienced during his days as a mercenary. Having lived a life of discipline for eight years since wrapping up his mercenary career without a single opportunity for such things, Achim couldn’t help but be excited to get a taste of blood in a relatively “legal” way.

If the person in front of me were a grown man instead of Martina…

Or if my current identity were a mercenary and the opponent were an enemy…

Just as these exciting, hypothetical scenarios filled his mind, he heard the faint sound of footsteps that gradually grew closer. Those approaching footsteps, as luck would have it, stopped dead right near Achim.

While Achim was lost in thought and missed the chance to turn around, Martina’s eyes darted to the side. At the same time, her blue pupils filled with water.

“M-Mr. Michael…”

…Michael?

It was the moment Achim, startled, moved to look to his side.

Like a lie, Martina let a tear fall down her cheek.

Her acting was so good it could win an award for best lead actress. It was only natural that Achim’s face, watching her, crumpled just like her blouse.

Now that I think about it, isn’t this a situation where I could easily be misunderstood? And of all people, the one to see this had to be Michael. If things went this way, all his efforts to live like a ghost for the past week would go down the drain.

Damn it. Achim cursed inwardly and loosened his grip.

“Cough… ack…!”

Finally able to breathe, Martina bent over and let out a dry cough. The sight of her gulping for air and letting big, teardrop-shaped tears fall, as if she were a tragic heroine in a B-grade movie, was infuriating.

Sensing a bad outcome, Achim lowered his head and turned to the other side. Seeing this, Martina opened her lips quickly.

“Mi…”

“You may leave.”

But Michael didn’t seem to have any intention of hearing her out. When he cut her off with a gentle-sounding command, Martina shut her mouth.

Michael curved his eyes pleasantly. It was a soft smile that would make anyone fall for him, but for some reason, the atmosphere felt different than usual, and Martina didn’t dare say another word.

Achim glanced sideways at Michael. Michael was still in his suit, sporting that same beautiful face as always.

Was he not talking to me when he said to leave? Achim whispered a desperate wish to himself before lowering his gaze at the feeling of his skirt being tugged.

It was Dora. Dora, clutching the hem of Achim’s skirt, was teary-eyed with one cheek flushed red. Seeing her face brought back what happened minutes ago, and Achim narrowed his brows.

Dora continued to cry silently. Achim hurriedly relaxed his expression and patted the top of Dora’s head soothingly. Her orange hair became disheveled under his rough touch.

“…Yes, Mr. Michael.”

Martina eventually hesitated before walking away. In that gap, Achim tried to slip away, holding Dora’s hand, when Michael reached out his long arm and grabbed Achim’s wrist tightly.

Ugh. An involuntary groan leaked through Achim’s teeth at the unexpected, immense grip strength.

This bastard?

He felt an impulse to snap back at Michael, but when he saw Dora looking at him, startled by the sudden sound, Achim quickly wiped the expression off his face.

“…Go on ahead.”

Dora looked reluctant. She couldn’t easily take a step, glancing back and forth between Michael and Achim several times.

However, for Dora, who regarded Michael like a god, even saying a word to him felt almost like blasphemy. In the end, after much deliberation, Dora squeezed Achim’s hand once, let go, and took a heavy step away.

When Dora was a fair distance away, Achim turned to look at him.

“Would you mind…?”

If it were up to his temper, he would have shaken him off immediately. But the person was Michael. Since his status might be decided by what just happened, he had to play the role of “Yvonne” perfectly until the moment he was kicked out.

Therefore, even if his wrist were to break right now, Achim had no choice but to endure it.

Achim felt aggrieved. How much effort had he put in over the past week to avoid being noticed by anyone? He hadn’t spoken to anyone other than his roommate Dora, and he hadn’t wandered around at all when he wasn’t working.