Please Kill Me - Chapter 23
From their first meeting until now, Leonid’s assessment of Yekaterina was as follows:
‘She doesn’t seem like someone on the brink of death.’
Leonid wouldn’t claim to have lived a particularly long life, but he was confident he had seen the faces of those resigned to death. Wandering the battlefields, he encounters such sights frequently.
Death, too, is part of that. Regrettably, or perhaps naturally, Leonid lived a life familiar with death, an inherent aspect of being the head of the Rostislav family.
Those Leonid saw longing for death typically shared a common expression.
Faces that found no meaning in any aspect of life.
They often had the guise of depression, the form of lethargy.
Neither was a face he could attribute to Yekaterina.
Though indifferent, Yekaterina did not show tears. Though seemingly listless, she possessed vitality.
‘But one thing is certain.’
Even amidst those conditions, Yekaterina seemed as fragile as a reed about to snap. Perhaps that fragility was related to her desire for death.
The fact that it bothered him, despite knowing this, might be because Leonid wasn’t entirely heartless.
Leonid slightly furrowed and then relaxed his brows.
He set down his glass and spoke.
“Yekaterina, do you have anything you like?”
Just then, Yekaterina had stuffed her cheeks full of food, so Leonid had to wait until she had chewed precisely twenty times and swallowed before he got an answer.
“This dish is delicious. I like this.”
Meaning she had nothing she particularly liked.
“I’ll have them keep serving duck at the table tomorrow. As long as you want it to continue.”
“That sounds like you’re saying I should stay as long as this dish keeps appearing on the table.”
“If that’s what you think, then that’s what it means.”
“…You’re quite sly.”
“As if you could expect anything less.”
Leonid shrugged, as if to assert his innocence.
Watching him, Yekaterina recalled the futile conversation they had earlier in the room. She also thought of the delicious food that had gone down her throat.
Lastly, she remembered ‘that expression’ on Leonid’s face. The one that looked at her as if she would disappear with the dawn. The face that talked about the nonsensical concept of favor without reward as if it were natural.
“…”
She felt a bit queasy.
What ‘that expression’ meant and why it made her uncomfortable, she didn’t know, but for now, it did.
However, with things having progressed this far, it wasn’t easy to just say she’d leave.
After all, she had already eaten so much of their food.
‘Is it really okay for me to just stay?’
Truthfully, she was grateful. It was the first time anyone had shown her such kindness.
How could she repay them?
After pondering for a moment, Yekaterina arranged her fork and knife together on the table and asked seriously,
“Do you have someone you want to kill? Or maybe there’s some information you’re after? Of course, simple protection works too. If you have a task you want to entrust to someone, leave it to me. I can probably handle it more skillfully than anyone you’d consider.”
Yekaterina’s query caused the movement on the opposite side of the table to pause.
“…That again? How many times must I tell you I have no intention of involving you in such matters? You’re a guest.”
“Of course, I understand. People often feel satisfied just by being in the same space as someone they have affection for. Still, let me do something for you.”
“Your intention to repay me is appreciated, but can we drop that damn misunderstanding?”
“Misunderstanding?”
“That I have… affection for you.”
“You said you were concerned about me.”
“Being concerned doesn’t necessarily mean affection.”
“Then what is it?”
“Let’s say… pity? Don’t take offense at my words.”
“How old are you, exactly?”
“I’ll be turning twenty-eight next month.”
“To have not engaged in a relationship at your age is quite something.”
“What did you understand by ‘pity’? Can we drop that misunderstanding-“
“You’re not denying you have experience, I see.”
“…”
Leonid calmly pressed his temples, feeling as if the wine he had earlier was now weighing on him.
Yekaterina’s words, devoid of any malice or intent to tease, were clear even to Leonid.
With her low pitched voice and impassive face, if he couldn’t notice, he’d indeed be remarkably dense.
The problem was getting entangled in her unintended remarks.
Facing such a doll-like counterpart and getting worked up alone made him feel like an utter fool.
‘How did we even get to this conversation…’
It was obvious that continuing the discussion would only demean himself.
Gathering what little was left of his composure, Leonid slowly articulated his words.
“First off.”
To set the record straight.
“I have no plans to employ you as a servant. Let’s never bring up that topic again.”
“What a shame.”
“And, I don’t have any affection for you.”
At that point, Yekaterina slightly pursed her lips.
“Then do you dislike me?”
“No, I’m indifferent.”
“But you said you were concerned about me.”
