Please Kill Me - Chapter 53
“I smiled?”
“Perhaps. The candles were extinguished right then, so I couldn’t be sure. That’s why I was pondering over it. Wondering if what I saw was accurate.”
It was a rather vague, yet cute response. Leonid couldn’t help but chuckle again.
Given Yekaterina’s usual lack of facial expressions, he had often wondered what she thought about in silence. Was it usually thoughts like these?
“Is that something to ponder over?”
“It seemed unusual to see you smile like that.”
Did he? Leonid asked himself again. Reflecting on their past interactions, he seemed to recall mostly frowning in her presence. As he was mulling over this, Yekaterina reached out her hand towards him.
Her fingertips lightly touched the corner of his mouth. Though it was a fleeting touch, it was enough to indicate he was indeed smiling.
“Is there something pleasant on your mind?”
Yekaterina asked, as Leonid gently lowered her hand.
“Yeah, perhaps.”
“That’s quite a vague answer.”
“And you weren’t vague just now?”
“I’m curious because I can’t quite guess the reason. What makes you happy?”
“Curious?”
Leonid echoed her unexpected interest, Yekaterina lightly agreed and lowered her eyelids.
“I wonder what else you like, besides me.”
“….Do I appear to be someone with no particular interests?”
“Let me rephrase. Is there anything else you care about as much as you do for me?”
“Well, if we’re to delve into it, there’d be quite a few.”
“Do you have a family?”
“Some cousins, perhaps.”
“What about your parents?”
“They passed away for a while.”
As soon as he finished, Yekaterina opened her eyes again.
Her deep black eyes stared intently at him.
“What happened?”
Leonid felt a bit taken aback. He knew she lacked common sense, but he hadn’t expected her to probe so directly into his personal life. Yet, what was even more surprising was his readiness to answer.
“An accident took them. Both of them.”
“How?”
“There was a fire at the mansion.”
“Both of them passed away at the same time?”
“My father died instantly. My mother,”
Leonid’s words, which had been moving without hesitation, halted abruptly.
He realized he had unwittingly become entangled in Yekaterina’s story once again.
Leonid’s brow furrowed again.
“…Enough of that, why are you asking? I don’t think I’ve ever paid that much attention to you.”
“You’ve been watching me all along.”
“That’s a misunderstanding.”
“No need to deny it. I know well that you like me.”
“Sure, I’m a damned liar and a fool in love, but I haven’t really cared that much.”
“To what extent, would you say?”
Faced with the question, Leonid quietly tried to quantify his own feelings to prove his innocence.
However, he couldn’t find a measuring cup that felt right. Every cup seemed either too small or too big.
After several attempts, Leonid gave up on measuring and chose what seemed like an adequate response.
“Moderately.”
“I didn’t think you could be so ambiguous.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do. Can you define it clearly, then?”
“I have nothing to measure. There had only been one thing of value to me.”
Yekaterina didn’t specify what that ‘one thing’ was, but Leonid instinctively knew it had to be Offenbach.
It didn’t require deep thinking. That was the only thing emanating from her.
At the same time, Leonid noticed how their conversation had unexpectedly deepened.
He thought he was merely dipping his toes, but the water had risen to his knees without him noticing.
As soon as he realized this, his breathing became slightly constricted. Or rather, he had been feeling suffocated for a while but only now became aware of it.
The fact that Yekaterina referenced her word in the past tense.
‘There had only been one thing.’
It meant it was no longer the case. Having given away what little she held, she now had nothing left.
And Leonid could sense that this was closely related to why she wished for death.
‘I didn’t intend to discuss this much.’
Was it because he let his guard down, feeling too relieved? Or was it because it was the first time Yekaterina had expressed curiosity?
Whatever the reason, Leonid had revealed too much and almost heard too much. In that moment, the lightness he felt was replaced by weight, and Leonid grimaced, touching his neck briefly.
“…We should stop here. I’m a bit tired.”
It was an obviously unnatural transition, but no one there questioned it.
Thus, their conversation ended. It might not have been a pleasant conclusion, but perhaps because the biggest worry had been lifted, Leonid slept more deeply than usual.
Maybe it was natural, considering he had only been sleeping lightly for days while keeping watch over Yekaterina.
The next morning, Leonid woke up early.
A cold breeze was blowing somewhere. The fluttering curtains looked like the shrouds of death in the dim light.
Leonid suddenly realized.
“…Damn it.”
Yekaterina had vanished without a trace.
