Please Kill Me - Chapter 144
Now, Leonid found himself contemplating that perhaps there was no chance of encountering Yekaterina anywhere in the ballroom or even on the terrace. Yet, he had been trained not to voice such thoughts.
Unaware of Leonid’s discontented gaze, Olga disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone again.
Only then did Leonid take a good look around the hall. The sight of people gathered in groups, chatting and dancing, only deepened his sense of isolation.
‘Perhaps hoping to meet Yekaterina was an overly ambitious dream.’
He should have stuck to his original plan: make an appearance and leave. The idea of finding her or even meeting her seemed entirely fanciful and a form of self-torture.
No expectations meant no disappointments.
‘It’s Olga’s fault.’
Since Olga kept constantly insisting on meeting Yekaterina had led him to share in her misguided hope. Leonid idly considered how Olga would have reacted if she’d heard his thoughts, and reached out to a passing servant holding a tray.
It seemed better to have a drink now that he was here. Though he generally avoided alcohol, he had started relying on it to sleep on restless nights, leading to a gradual increase in his consumption.
He probably had a couple of bottles of hard liquor rolling around in his bedroom right now.
‘Yekaterina would probably give me another lecture if she saw me now.’
She would likely tell him to spend his time more productively or to take better care of himself. And in all her advice, Yekaterina would never be present herself.
In truth, the whole matter would be resolved if Yekaterina were simply there. Yet, she always excluded herself from the situation.
Thinking about this, a faint smile escaped him.
‘Yekaterina would be living well without a thought for me. How absurd this is.’
He really needed to stop this, but he didn’t know how. Her abrupt entrance and departure had left him a mess, feeling more abandoned than ever.
He thought to himself that if he ever met her again, he would confess how she had ruined him. How he couldn’t forget her and had to destroy everything to cover her name. Even though he didn’t want to blame her, it seemed he was deeply enchanted by her.
Just as Leonid was about to reach for his drink, something caught his eye.
“…Huh?”
At the edge of his vision, he saw a woman with silver hair staring directly at him. Her long, straight silver hair fell around her, and she seemed to be gazing intently at him. It felt as if their eyes had met.
However, this distraction caused him to lose his grip. His hand, now awkwardly halted, had accidentally knocked into a nearby glass, causing the glasses on the tray to topple over in a cascade.
Crash!
The sound of multiple glassware shattering created quite a commotion. The unexpected accident drew screams and murmurs from the surrounding guests. Leonid’s clothes were soon drenched with wine from the broken glasses.
A stunned servant hurried over with a towel, but despite the mishap being Leonid’s fault, there was no blame or reproach from the nobles.
“Are you alright? I’m so sorry. How did this happen?”
Yet, Leonid did not glance at the servant. Or rather, he could not.
He remained rigid, repeatedly replaying the scene he had seen just before reaching for the glass. Nothing else could hold his attention.
‘Did I see it wrong?’
The woman had vanished the moment he thought their eyes had met, leaving him uncertain. But the unusual aura and gaze were unmistakably like Yekaterina’s.
‘Perhaps…’
His heart tightened at the thought. He snatched the towel from the servant’s hand, wiped at his clothes, and after handing the towel back, began pushing his way through the crowd.
Only one thought dominated his mind: Yekaterina might be here.
If not, why would anyone look at him like that? It had to be Yekaterina. What had begun as doubt was gradually turning into certainty.
Leonid, lost in the chase, followed the afterimage. Finally, when he got closer, he spotted the silver-haired woman standing at a corridor’s corner.
As if toying with him, she led him through a serpentine path: from the hall to the corridor, from the corridor to the gallery, and from the gallery to the terrace. Each location became progressively quieter and less populated.
Perhaps it was only natural. Meetings often happened in quiet places. Moreover, Yekaterina and Leonid had never been close enough to meet in a bustling environment.
Driven by the possibility of finding Yekaterina, Leonid followed the shadow with unwavering focus.
The thought of meeting her pushed him forward, and the sight of the long, straight silver hair, swaying just within reach, guided his steps.
