Please Kill Me - Chapter 25
It was an abrupt and blatant change, yet Leonid found no reason to object. He glanced at his nails, while considering her question.
“I tend to keep my nails short. They’re thin and sharp, so if I let them grow, I often end up cutting myself by mistake. They also break easily. It’s just more convenient to keep them short.”
“Do you ever let them grow?”
“Well, when I’m on the battlefield, they tend to get a bit longer than now, mainly because there’s little time to care for such things. Similarly, when I’m busy with other matters, they might grow a bit. Otherwise, I don’t pay much attention to them.”
“I see.”
“And what’s with the sudden interest in my nails?”
Yekaterina didn’t respond.
She often shifted topics on a whim and ended conversations as she pleased. While the former might be excusable, the latter wasn’t exactly sociable. Yekaterina was aware of this.
But this time, she was innocent. How could she explain?
In my past life, I met you, and then your nails were long. That’s why I asked.
Even Leonid, with his smooth talk, wouldn’t have said it that way.
When Leonid had tilted her head earlier, Yekaterina inevitably remembered the interrogation room incident.
Leonid’s hand lifting her face and his nails injuring her.
It led Yekaterina to mistakenly anticipate a replay of that day’s events. Perhaps even looking forward to it.
To see if Leonid’s nails would injure her again. Would he withdraw his hand in surprise as he did back then? Yet, Yekaterina wasn’t concerned about that now.
Although Leonid mentioned injuring his hand, if he could still hurt her in that condition, there was no need to wait until his hand healed.
But, disappointingly, with Leonid’s nails being short, there was no way to confirm through such means.
‘It seems he was busy at that time.’
A trace of disappointment followed.
It wasn’t long-lasting, as Leonid broke the silence.
“Anyway. Whether Offenbach would or wouldn’t, Rostislav isn’t bothered by having an extra guest. Understand? Don’t worry about it and just stay comfortably in the residence.”
“Once your hand heals, you’ll kill me, right?”
“Of course.”
Leonid lied without blinking an eye.
Not that Yekaterina completely trusted his words, but she didn’t mind. In truth, whether Leonid’s statements were true or not didn’t concern her much.
‘Even if it’s a lie, it’s no problem.’
If Leonid were to refuse to kill her, Yekaterina was prepared to attack him with the resolve to kill him. Even now, a dagger was strapped to her thigh.
This had been her plan all along.
Had Leonid outright refused her request at their first meeting, Yekaterina would have immediately drawn the dagger from her thigh.
It would have led to a fight where one of them would die, and inevitably, Leonid would be the victor.
And she would have achieved the rest she so desperately sought.
The fact that Yekaterina went along with Leonid’s excuse about his injured right hand, claiming he couldn’t use his left hand either, was all part of her calculation.
‘Just a few more months.’
Until his hand healed, and he could fight her on equal grounds.
But if it turned out that Leonid could still harm her even in his current state,
‘Then…’
Rest wouldn’t be such a distant story.
Yekaterina thought this as she sipped her wine, which tasted less sweet than expected.
Had she ever tried Offenbach’s wine, she might have had something to compare it to, but unfortunately, she had never tasted wine at Offenbach.
How does Leonid manage to drink something so bitter so effortlessly? Is that also a trait of Rostislav?
Yekaterina voiced her question immediately. There was no need to swallow her thoughts in front of him. At Rostislav’s residence, all she needed to digest was the meal and a few months’ time.
“The wine is a bit,”
And then, she stopped.
A sense of alienation, barely noticeable unless specifically trained to detect it, grazed Yekaterina’s cheek sharply, causing her to halt her words.
Was this unfamiliarity due to being in a strange environment, or was it an illusion brought on by the alcohol?
Yekaterina turned her gaze to Leonid, who seemed already perplexed enough by her presence alone, apparently oblivious to anything amiss.
“The wine, why?”
“…Is a window open somewhere?”
“Doubtful. The area is heated, so they shouldn’t be open. Feeling cold?”
Yekaterina glanced upwards briefly before returning to her wine glass.
“No, it’s fine. Just that the wine tastes worse than I expected.”
“I did say it’s an acquired taste. If you’re not used to alcohol, you should stick to soft drinks.”
“I’ll just have to get used to it from now on.”
Yekaterina casually dismissed Leonid’s comment and looked away. Her cold gaze swept over the dimly lit corridor outside the dining room.
That was a brief moment. The meal soon came to an end.
Yekaterina finally emptied her glass and left the table.
