1. Damn!
The overcast sky made it look like another downpour was on its way. On days like this, one of his knees never failed to ache.
A cramped, semi-basement space where barely any light could get in. Achim, who had been staring at the crack in the window where what little light managed to seep through, reached down and rubbed his right knee.
It was the spot he’d injured eight years ago while working as a mercenary for a PMC — a private military company, though calling it that was generous. It was really just a small outfit. That wound had been the decisive reason he’d ended up running this tiny errand center.
I really thought I was going to die back then. As he turned the memory over in his mind, someone came to him and he gave a small shudder.
A small village on the western outskirts of Frankfurt, Germany. Tucked away in the most out-of-the-way corner of that village was a slum — 43 Schweit Shantytown — the place that served as both Achim Müller’s home and workplace.
The building was practically falling apart. And yet, absurdly enough, worn-down as it was, the place occasionally made him think it might actually be a wealthy neighborhood rather than a shantytown.
That impression came entirely from the outrageously high rent. Still, the reason he kept staying here was……
“Welcome.”
Achim shook off the stray thoughts and greeted the customer stepping into the dim shop.
The first customer of the day. He’d been so idle all morning he’d half-wondered if cobwebs were about to start forming in his mouth.
Achim stayed in his slouched position, propped his chin in his hand, and looked the man over.
The space was dim to begin with. The man had a ball cap pulled down low over his face, with the hood of his jacket layered on top of it, making his features nearly impossible to make out.
After studying the man for a moment, Achim let his gaze drop.
The fingertips peeking out from the end of the man’s long sleeves were trembling slightly. As if sensing Achim’s gaze, the man brought his other hand over to cover them. Achim watched that with narrowed eyes and let out a quiet sigh.
“I don’t do that here.”
The man said nothing.
Well, of course. Achim was certain his guess had been right, and waved his hand dismissively.
“Guess the gloominess gave you the wrong idea.”
“……”
“I only keep one light on to save on electricity. Looks like you’ve got the wrong place, so come back another time.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had to say this before — having done it countless times, the words came out smooth and easy.
Well, drug delivery was practically a daily occurrence in a shadowy place like this. But he’d set himself a firm rule when he started the business: no criminal activity.
The man stared at Achim’s small wave of dismissal for a moment before abruptly shaking his head.
Was that not what he was here for? Surprised, Achim waited for the man to speak — and soon, lips half-buried in shadow began to move.
“……50,000 euros.”
The man threw out a large sum out of nowhere. Achim’s eyes went wide.
“……Up front.”
“……”
“Complete the job, and I’ll pay the rest.”
Achim blinked a couple of times, eyes still wide.
He swallowed. The words shot out of him like a reflex.
“The rest would be……?”
If the advance alone was 50,000 euros, then setting aside what the job even was — just how much was the total fee?
The moment pure curiosity reared its head, the shadow-draped lips parted once more.
“150,000.”
“……!”
Achim slapped his own hand over his mouth. Hard enough that his palm left his lips stinging.
But there was no time to register the pain — he dragged his hand roughly across his mouth and pressed it down against his throbbing knee.
50,000 up front, and 150,000 on completion……. A total of 200,000 euros.
It was a fee the likes of which he’d never heard of. By Achim’s standards, it was an absurd amount he’d never see in his lifetime.
Just what kind of job could this possibly be……
That was as far as his thoughts got before his instincts hit the brakes. Barely managing to rein in his reason, Achim kneaded his knee out of habit.
“What’s the job?”
Nothing in this world was free. That was the unshakeable truth he’d arrived at over twenty-eight years of living. An amount jaw-dropping enough to make his mouth hang open meant it was bound to be a correspondingly difficult task.
Achim asked carefully, and the man suddenly glanced around. There’s no one here but me. Even so, the man — already suspicious-looking from the moment he’d walked in — was clearly on high alert.
The man’s cautious behavior was making Achim tense up as well. Before he knew it, the hand resting on his knee had curled into a tight fist.
“Get me something.”
Ah. Achim let out a quiet groan. He’d expected it wouldn’t be anything ordinary — but of all things, theft.
Achim’s head dropped.
“Unfortunate as it is……. I don’t do theft either.”
He wanted to take those words right back the instant he said them. He was genuinely so regretful he could scream. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw away the principles he’d worked so hard to keep.
Letting a windfall slip right through his own hands, right in front of him. Tonight — no, for the next several days — sleep was going to be impossible.
Achim looked away and tried his best to let go of his lingering reluctance, but the man took one more step toward him.
“300,000.”
“……”
“I’ll add 100,000 more. 300,000 total.”
Achim forced his stiff neck up.
Did I hear that wrong? Doubting his own ears, he repeated the figure the man had said.
“300,000……”
The man nodded, his head still cast in shadow. And at the same moment, Achim was plunged into the most critical dilemma of his life.
300,000 euros for one job. No — wait. It’s not just some little theft. I made a decision after the mercenary days — no more criminal activity.
……But it’s 300,000 euros.
Good and evil wrestled each other back and forth inside his head. Caught in a sudden war with himself, Achim found he was gripping his knee hard enough to wring it off.
Tap. Tap tap. A faint pattering sound came from somewhere. It was the first drops of rain beginning to strike the semi-basement window.
Achim let his gaze drift sideways. It landed on the small window, gone opaque from the dirty water kicked up by passing feet.
300,000 euros……
His gaze shifted back to the man. Achim dropped his head and dragged his palm roughly over his eyes, cutting off his own vision as he opened his mouth.
“……What.”
He got the one word out, then let the hand fall from his eyes. His gaze moved to the man’s eyes, faintly visible through the deep shadow between them.
“What is it I need to get you?”
The man closed the distance even further than before. Then, just as before, he glanced around the empty space several times, still on guard.
When his excessive caution had nearly exhausted Achim’s patience, the man leaned over the front desk and whispered.
“Michael Bernhardt’s……”
“……”
“Semen.”
Achim couldn’t speak for a moment. His mouth had fallen open on its own, but it only moved silently, as if he had forgotten how to make sound.
It was quite some time before Achim, who had gone so uncharacteristically quiet, finally said anything.
