Please Kill Me - Chapter 142
“It’s been three months since Miss left. Don’t you have any intention of seeing her again?”
“Does seeing her mean that Yekaterina is coming back to me?”
“Isn’t there a chance to try and hold on to her?”
“I’ve already tried holding on. If I was truly determined not to let go, I wouldn’t have let her leave.”
Initially, he wanted to hold on to her no matter what. He didn’t want to let her go. But if Yekaterina said that being with him meant nothing, what was the point of holding on? Whether her words were true or false, they were her choice.
‘Yet… I do want to ask. If she said my presence meant nothing, then why do her actions suggest otherwise?’
And that was where Leonid felt the greatest torment—the gap between what Yekaterina had said before leaving and the situation unfolding before him.
Yekaterina was clearly angry that he had deceived her. She had planned to leave all along, saying that he meant nothing to her, and then she left.
But looking at the situation, it seemed as though—
‘Doesn’t it seem like Yekaterina sacrificed herself because of me?’
The inconvenient timing of Yekaterina returning to Offenbach and the way Offenbach cleared Leonid’s name with lies. Yuri and Vasily, who asked no questions about these absurd situations. Everything felt like a play revolving around him.
It was as if he could vaguely see the swift hand movements beneath the surface, obscured from view.
But what if it’s not like that? What if Yekaterina’s words were true, and the circumstances were just coincidences or had different motives? If she didn’t sacrifice herself for him and simply returned to Offenbach…
‘Damn it.’
Trying to gauge the truth amid the discrepancy was itself a form of torture. The more he tried, the more miserable and pitiful he felt, and he genuinely wanted to stop.
Yet, if his heart didn’t skip a beat when Vasily mentioned her name, then that too would be a lie.
‘I can see Yekaterina.’
With that one proposition, Leonid felt his agonies and the despair he had felt melting away like snow. He didn’t know how much more he needed to suffer to regain his senses, but it was clear he was not in his right mind.
Leonid buried his face in his hands. The man who was swiping his face looked a bit tired and troubled.
“Whether Yekaterina attends or not, I have to show my face at the Vesna party.”
Leonid composed himself. This had nothing to do with her. Even if he attended the party, he had no intention of meeting Yekaterina.
He asked his vassal, his face still covered.
“Is Yekaterina… doing well in Offenbach?”
“According to the news, she seems to be doing very well.”
“…I see.”
The words Yekaterina had said before she left echoed in his ears again.
— I don’t want you. I thought that trying it once might make me want you, but nothing changed at all. The only thing that has meaning to me is Offenbach.
He had known from the beginning that Offenbach was the only thing that mattered to her. Yekaterina had said as much when she first arrived at Rostislav.
So, she had returned to the place that held meaning for her and was doing well. That was fine.
Hearing about Yekaterina’s current situation made him feel like one of the worries that had plagued him was now gone. He no longer needed to question which was true. He knew well enough. Yekaterina did not lie.
‘So those words back then… were true.’
He felt a bit disheartened and somewhat diminished. But it was something that needed to end eventually. So, he would stop thinking about her. Truly.
* * *
‘Yekaterina is somewhere here.’
Leonid thought as he looked at the people filling the party hall.
Time had flowed as always, and the Vesna festival season had arrived. The streets were painted in vibrant colors, and everyone hid their faces behind masks of laughter.
Although he was quite familiar with the party hall, today it felt strangely unfamiliar. Or perhaps it was because he had come here without having slept a wink.
He hated this noisy atmosphere. Although he usually found parties annoying, he had never disliked them this much. Today, he was already feeling fed up.
Every time someone burst out laughing, the sound echoed in his head, causing him to frown.
‘Have I stayed inside too much?’
Thinking about it, he had often been to even noisier places than this. His irritation might be due to the long period he had spent cooped up in the Rostislav estate.
‘I really didn’t want to come out.’
He still had a strong urge to run back to the estate. The quiet solitude that gnawed at his mind was painful, but it was familiar.
Yet, here he was, standing in this place, simply because—perhaps—there was a chance he might—
‘Maybe I can meet Yekaterina…’
But had he dreamt too ambitiously?
The thought of finding Yekaterina among this crowd seemed nothing short of miraculous. Sometimes, he felt as if he could recognize her instantly, even amidst a sea of people.
