Le retour du héros - Chapitre 290

Ombuti was exhilarated. Wakil and Miss Edel were walking arm-in-arm down the gravel road. Edel’s face was as bright as the full moon when she looked up and talked to him. He had no regrets about the money he had spent on Wakil’s Road, which had amounted to 200,000 francs.

 

Ombuti suppressed his desire to jump down and greet wakil desperately. He could never break that atmosphere. That brat Emil and the witless lackey had ruined the mood he had barely managed to create at the hospital in France. If they weren’t wakil’s friends, he would have shoved an Opinel into their mouths.

 

« Héhéhé, I am wakil and Miss Edel’s godfather. Ombuti’s life is finally blooming.”

 

Ombuti laughed spontaneously. Wakil was someone bound to be king. Miss Edel was someone overflowing with the grace of a queen. Although his master was young, it was better if descendants were conceived faster. He hadn’t met a single woman who was more graceful and wiser than her in his 45 années de vie. Wakil was someone like the wind. He didn’t know when he’d leave again. There were more dreams when the nights grew long. A couple had to get married when the time was right.

 

There was another good news. It concerned the lackey, who never listened to him.

 

« Héhéhé, how dare a lackey ignore the words of his superior? Maintenant, he only needs to be beaten up.”

 

There was a Korean saying that went, the more ignorant one was, the braver they got. Ombuti had been astounded when he paid a visit to the Samaria farm in Doba. The farm had turned into a s***hole after the lackey had recklessly messed up the role of the boss. Workers without armbands had become slaves, while those with armbands acted like they were the owners. The destruction that followed was unspeakable.

 

Wakil hated ranks and privileges more than scorpions. He was going to report it all to the wakil. Those who didn’t listen to their seniors deserved to be beaten with sticks.

 

"Oh, he’s arrived.”

 

Bang bang bang bang—

 

Ombuti, who ran down the stairs as if he was rolling, charged forward like a bull.

 

"Ah!"

 

Startled by his ferocity, Edel released her arm and ran away.

 

“Wakil! Ya Ilahi, la astati’e an ‘usadiq![1] Assalamu Alaikum!” Ombuti shouted as he hugged Black Mamba.

 

Cheeks were rubbed to the point that skin would have peeled.

 

“Ombuti, are you well?"

 

“Wakil—”

 

Ombuti couldn’t continue, his throat jammed. How long had it been since he had last heard his master’s voice! Tears rushed down at the firm greeting, which would have remained rooted even if Tibesti collapsed. He also blamed his master for giving him so much work to do and not even contacting him once.

 

"Je vais bien, aside from the few strands of hair that I’ve lost from worrying about you, Maître."

 

"Oncle, you are losing hair because of the business. Don’t blame it on Black,” Edel shot back.

 

"Hahaha, c'est vrai. Miss Edel has worked hard.”

 

Ombuti turned to look at Edel as though she was the cutest person on the planet. There was nothing like a father who loved his daughter right then and there.

 

"Laissez-moi voir. Es-tu blessé quelque part?"

 

After checking Black Mamba’s shoulders and sides, Ombuti kneeled on the floor.

 

“Bismillah. Allah, thank you for your grace. Thank you for taking care of your son. There is no God except Allah. There is no truer person than wakil. May all the people look up to—”

 

A lengthy prayer of gratitude followed. Black Mamba could only wait for the prayer to end in an awkward stance. C'était frustrant, but now he had grown used to it.

 

“Ombuti, you assembled the building well. It’s surprising to see such a high-quality building in Chad.”

 

Black Mamba was amazed by the building’s exterior. The two-story brick building, which was inspired by French designs, measured 600 pyung by 200 pyung. C'était petit, but the terrace and awning were extended to increase openness and block the sunlight. It had a wide yard, and the view outside was blocked by the campanula and fig trees lining the outskirts. Sprinklers were turning around the yard. It was rare to see such a luxurious building in N’Djamena.

 

“It is all thanks to wakil’s grace. You can find the records room and my office on the first floor, while the second floor is decorated with wakil’s bedroom and office. I’ve built the workers’ offices and cafeteria in a separate location. I paid special attention to this building so you can rest well, wakil.”

 

Ombuti explained with an expression that expected praise in return. Black Mamba could only snort. How many times would he visit Chad? Once or twice a year at most. He could have just built a room, Favoriser le rôle masculin, he had wasted money on a building. From Wakil’s Road to the building, the entire construction seemed like a waste.

 

"Que veux-tu dire? Why would you invest so much for a single person’s rest? You can use this building, Ombuti. Tu es le patron. The company’s owner is Ombuti. Cela n’a rien à voir avec moi.

 

“Wakil! Est-ce que tu m'abandonnes!” Ombuti pitifully cried as he collapsed back onto his knees.

 

"Oh, why are you doing this again?” Black Mamba grabbed his arm in surprise.

 

Ombuti’s actions were on par with Hollywood actors. Non, it was more like the historical dramas centered around the Joseon dynasty. He was so realistic to the point that Black Mamba wondered whether Ombuti had imported Korean historical dramas for reference.

 

“Wakil, I am wakil’s slave! A slave’s wealth belongs to the slave’s owner. de plus, wakil provided the starting funds for Wakil Commerce Company! This company is yours. I am only the manager. If wakil says you’re abandoning the company, it means you’re abandoning me too.”

 

"Pouah, I’m about to go mad, fou!"

 

Black Mamba wanted to cry. His head had been hurting ever since he met Ombuti.

 

"D'accord. I’m the company’s owner. Ombuti’s the boss, and I’m the chairman. D'accord?"

 

« Héhé!"

 

Edel giggled, unable to hold back her laughter. Dubai still didn’t understand uncle Ombuti. Uncle Ombuti was someone who considered Dubai as his king and son. He had no interest in wealth. He had exaggerated to prevent Dubai from making any excuses.

 

“I’ll prepare for dinner.”

 

Edel left her seat. The trust shared between both of them struck her. She recalled her father and uncle while looking at Black and uncle Ombuti. Others were like so, but her biological uncle had killed her father to swallow the farm whole. How far could a human’s greed and viciousness go?

 

Ombuti tilted his head. Wakil from a year ago exuded a violent aura like a starved lion. Précédemment, as he stood before him, his skin would prickle as though he was facing the desert’s wind. Maintenant, he was softer than linen. He wondered whether his master had gotten weaker due to an injury.

 

“Wakil, Quelque chose est arrivé?"

 

“I got lost underground for two months. Nothing significant happened otherwise.”

 

Ombuti tilted his head.

 

Did he find a mine?

 

“Can I look around the house?"

 

"Oh, Oui, please head in. It’s a bit lacking since it was built in haste.”

 

Penses-tu que ce n'était pas quelque chose dont tu pourrais être fier, you’re asking me to live all alone in this huge place?"

 

The living room on the second floor was as large as a garage. Black Mamba had lived in a cupboard at his uncle’s house, a small square study room, and the attic of a workplace. A 50-pyung living room was excessive for a youth like him.

 

“It’s too small considering wakil’s position and face. You’re not alone. You have Miss Edel, droite?"

 

Ombuti threw a small bait.

 

“Tsk, don’t talk about that.”

 

Black Mamba swallowed back the words about his wavering mind. He could see through Ombuti’s scheme of shoving two passionate young adults under one roof to conceive children.

 

“Master’s room?"

 

Black Mamba stopped before a room with the nameplate “Maître de Maison.”

 

“It’s the office that wakil’s going to use. Whether you’re here or not, the owner of this company is you, wakil,” Ombuti emphasized. He had to tightly hold his master’s reins to keep him around.

 

“There’s nothing less compared to Paris’ bureau.”

 

An office and a break room could be seen in the master room. The room was filled with daily necessities and a desk. There was even a bedroom, salle de bains, and kitchenette. He opened the window. He could see the entire construction site over the palm trees. Having two necessary living necessities in one place provided him with sight and convenience.

 

“Even the air conditioner?"

 

There was an air conditioner right in the corner of the office. Chad and air conditioners were a bad combination. Only hotels that served foreigners in N’Djamena would have air conditioners. Even the fan in Ombuti’s room turned and creaked. Black Mamba was slightly moved. He found Ombuti’s efforts very affectionate even if his return had been undetermined.

 

Matsushita? Isn’t that Jap?

 

Black Mamba’s face creased into a frown as he examined the air conditioner. He recalled Sai Dojiku while thinking of Japan. Black Mamba was someone with strong patriotic emotions.

 

“Emil sent it. He seemed to have gotten it from the provisions team after learning that wakil was building a house.”

 

Ombuti immediately wound out an explanation that seemed to say that no one was at fault. His wit and reactions were at level 100. Black Mamba took out the Vajra and drew a line across the air conditioner.

 

Fissure-

 

The air conditioner, which had been working fine until then, split into half. Étonnamment, Black Mamba was a narrow-minded person.

 

"Oh, Allah!"

 

That was the ability of a god. He’d worried for nothing. His master had returned even stronger. Maintenant, nothing could harm his master. Tears escaped his eyes. Ombuti, who was slightly older now, immediately organized his feelings and responded.

 

“Wakil, it seems like the Jap’s objects are of poor quality. I’ll see if I can get some Korean products.”

 

"Bien sûr. Korean products are far better than the Jap’s. I’ll send you all the necessary electronics when I visit next time,” Black Mamba said, mentioning the impossible.

 

Compared to Japan, Korea in the 1980s was at the walking stage of electrical advances.

 

"Oh, by Allah’s grace. Allah’s grace should be shared with everyone. We should import Korean electronic products and sell them to those with money,” Ombuti said, adding on to the lie.

 

It was the perfect master-servant combination.

 

“That sounds like a business. Is electricity stable?"

 

Le flic réincarné qui frappe avec la richesse. It disconnects at least three to four times a day. The company runs a Murata generator as a spare, Au cas où."

 

Ombuti glanced at Black Mamba. Now that he’d said it, that was also an object made in Japan.

 

“We should start equipping personal development equipment.”

 

A sigh escaped from him. Chad was like Korea in the 1960s. With infrastructure like that, businesses would have a hard time running. He thought president Park, who had poured all of his energy into constructing social infrastructures like generators, rails, and highways, was better than the African dictators.

 

“Chad is overflowing with manpower. A part ça, everything else lacks.”

 

“There’s a Korean saying that goes, simply beginning takes up half of the journey. The other half should follow naturally.”

 

Black Mamba’s belief that “something should happen” activated. Black Mamba was someone who lived by the time solution to survive the chaotic and rough life. The best solution to human worries was time.

 

“Dubai, the meal is ready. Oncle, allons-y."

 

Edel appeared at the door, wearing an apron.

 

"Ah!"

 

Black Mamba slightly exclaimed. His heart dropped. A pink cat with a cute expression was printed on the front of the apron.

 

Hae Young!

 

His synapses provided a glance into his past. There was a large traditional building with hiranis and a garden.

 

Ring ring—

 

When he pressed the bell, the sound of dragging slippers followed. The small door opened.

 

"Tu es en retard. Here’s your punishment!"

 

Hae Young grabbed Mu Ssang’s manhood and shook it. Mu Ssang, who had been squeezing himself through the small room, was done in helplessly.

 

"Aaaaaah, you’re killing Mu Ssang!"

 

Mu Ssang exaggerated.

 

"Ho ho ho, c'est gros!"

 

Hae Young’s body shook as she laughed. The red-pink cat, which was printed across her white shirt on her chest, shook its paws as though it was going to scratch.

 

Ah ah, this is sexual harassment. Vous êtes une femme, alors pourquoi fais-tu ça?"

 

“Hmph, you talk a lot for someone who’s almost in submission.”

 

Hae Young refused to release her grip.

 

“Are you not wearing a bra again?"

 

Hae Young’s breasts were right behind the printed cat’s paws. Hae Young would always tease him by forgoing her undergarments. He could almost see her skin, which peeked out behind the shaking cat.

 

« Hum, you’ve finally learned how to read other people’s minds! You little leery brat!"

 

"Il a, I’d rather die than agree. Do you like to tease your lover who is overflowing with hormones so much?"

 

“Who enjoys what, vous dites? You shouldn’t say stupid things like that now. What do you think of my outfit?"

 

“It suits you well. The naive youth vibe is overflowing.”

 

"Bien sûr, I’m a good example of how a person completes an outfit. I would have become a model had I not been so good at studying,” Hae Young bragged as she tilted her chin up.

 

"Oh, now you’re just bragging!"

 

Unlike his complaining mouth, his eyes refused to look away from the cat’s front paws. The morning sunlight gathered around Hae Young. Ses yeux pétillaient. She had been the only ray of sunlight in his dark past.

 

“Dubai!"

 

A clear soprano voice brought him out of the darkness.

 

« Hum? Oh, droite, we should eat.”

 

Black Mamba smiled awkwardly before heading out of the room. Edel’s face grew slightly downcast.

 

“The first one should be his mother. je le savais. The second one is a woman,” Edel muttered softly.

 

Women had a superhuman ability that could recall every single word uttered by a man.

 

"Wow! Qu'est ce que tout ca?"

 

Black Mamba’s mouth hung open when he entered the kitchen. There was kimchi stew, ugali[2], namachoba[3], chapati[4], and jollof[5]. Amid all those African dishes, there was also Korean Kimchi-jjigae! de plus, there was a large bowl of white rice.

 

[1] Dieu, je ne peux pas le croire!

 

[2] It is a type of maize flour porridge made with corn and cassava.

 

[3] Alligator skewer.

 

[4] It is an unleavened flatbread.

 

[5] It is a one-pot rice dish.