Please Kill Me - Chapter 48
“You’re injured, and quite seriously at that.”
“It’s just my right side that’s unusable, so it’s fine.”
“What if you get injured even more this time? Better to send me instead. Looks like you’ve found the perfect candidate right here.”
Leonid’s eyes narrowed at Yekaterina’s sudden suggestion.
“…You were aiming for this by telling me not to send Vasily.”
“It’s a misunderstanding. But even considering that, it seems like a good idea.”
Truly, it was a misunderstanding.
However, unfortunately for Yekaterina, her denial just solidified Leonid’s suspicion. Given Yekaterina’s persistent insistence on being assigned as a guard, his suspicion was reasonable.
Leonid, with a cold expression, declared, “Misunderstanding or not. I won’t send you.”
“I can’t let you go either. Send me in his place, or let me accompany you.”
Yekaterina was equally firm.
Sending only Vasily would mean his death, and eventually, Leonid would have to join. In the past, Leonid’s condition might not have been as severe, but now, he was dealing with an injury to his right hand and a deep sword wound on his shoulder.
Leonid’s shoulder injury required absolute rest for a significant period. In such a condition, facing high-level monsters could result in irreversible damage to his arm or prolong his recovery.
That won’t do. If Leonid couldn’t kill her, she would have to find another skilled individual, and as far as Yekaterina knew, there was no such person.
Thus, allowing Leonid to take up arms was out of the question.
Absolutely.
In fact, Yekaterina was confident that Leonid would eventually have to accept her offer.
‘Why would he refuse when someone of my caliber is willingly offering help?’
What was the reason to refuse?
Her identity wasn’t a problem, nor was trust an issue. Her presence in the mansion alone was proof of trust.
Therefore, despite all of Leonid’s frowns, Yekaterina expected a positive response from him.
“Absolutely not.”
Leonid was adamant.
He had no intention whatsoever of yielding to Yekaterina’s request.
Dealing with mid-grade monsters was well within the capabilities of Vasily’s knights, and there would undoubtedly be forces from the imperial army and Offenbach present at the scene.
This was not a task that needed Yekaterina’s involvement. Burning down the house to catch a flea, so to speak, sending Yekaterina on this mission was all risk with no real benefit.
Yekaterina herself must have known this.
Yet, her insistence likely meant she was desperate to enter the battlefield.
And the reason for her eagerness was all too clear.
She was looking for a way to die.
‘I’m not even curious about what she’s hiding anymore.’
It was apparent she was hiding something, the way she was constantly changing the subject. But her motives were so transparent that delving deeper seemed pointless.
The idea that a woman so obsessed with dying would meticulously conceal motives and schemes seemed far-fetched.
The situation only felt ridiculous to him.
“Talk sense. Why not just advertise your presence here, then?”
“I could disguise myself. Silver hair isn’t that rare; just hiding it properly should do.”
“Easy for you to say. Silver hair and Offenbach-style swordsmanship from an extraordinarily skilled fighter, and you think the folks from Offenbach wouldn’t recognize you?”
“If someone does, I’ll just have to silence them.”
“Silence them?”
“In monster combat, it’s easy for one or two people to die. It would be simple to make it look like an accident.”
“And what if you get hurt?”
“That would be lucky. I could die without owing you anything. If going means I could get injured, that would be ideal.”
Yekaterina’s ceaseless chatter suddenly halted as she caught Leonid’s expression. He was looking at her with an air of utter exasperation.
Yekaterina was as skilled in reading expressions as she was unchanging in her own. Perhaps this skill was a testament to a lifetime spent observing others closely. Whatever the reason, she could distinctly read the emotions that crossed Leonid’s face now.
Irritation and weariness, even contempt.
While the first two emotions could be attributed to their frustratingly stagnant conversation, the contempt puzzled her.
“Why do you take death so lightly?”
The answer came swiftly, with Leonid questioning her in a tone that clearly showed his inability to comprehend.
“You ask to be killed, and I thought to oblige, but hearing you now, it feels trivial. Is death a joke to you?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Then why speak that way? Is it a protest for attention?”
“I don’t know why you’d say that. I’ve never asked for your concern.”
“Then maybe change that damned way of speaking. It’s driving me mad with worry.”
Yekaterina’s lips slightly pursed.
“You really do like me, don’t you?”
Leonid’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. But having once acknowledged this fact, denying it further would only demean himself, so he found himself unable to refute.
