Chapter 18: You can’t hire a corpse
Knox's body was shivering, and Azrael, for the first time in his life, was dumbfounded about what to do. He had never spared any effort carrying anyone in his arms.
If someone collapses right in front of him, out of annoyance for dramatically blocking his way and to show his non-existent humanitarian values to the public, he'd just flick his hand and his bodyguards will carry the collapsed instead. Then, he'd go on his way brushing off the incident like patting away the dust on his shoulders.
He lacks sympathy. So, he couldn't understand why a part of his chest felt like a mountain was sitting above it. It was heavy and unpleasant.
"Young master, should we head to the hospital?"
Azrael glared at the driver. Isn't it obvious to send someone who got drugged in the hospital? He was about to answer the driver sarcastically when he felt his shirt getting tugged. He dropped his annoyed gaze beside him and saw Knox looking at him with pleading eyes.
Knox weakly mumbled, "N-Not...the hospital. Please, let's just go home."
He tried to sit straight, but his body was so weak. It felt like all his bones disappeared and he turned into a jelly.
A hot jelly.
Knox hugged himself. He begged Azrael not to take him to the hospital, but the latter only glared at him and shut him up.
Azrael snarled, "Look at you, you can't even stand up straight and you still don't want to be brought to the hospital? If you're worried about the treatment bills, I can cover it. You were drugged! You need treatment!"
Then, the volume of his voice lowered as if he didn't want Knox to hear his following words, "I feel shitty right now. This won't happen if that damned old man – tsk! Fine!"