Please Kill Me - Chapter 82
It was a relief, really.
No more desiring things above her station.
So, without hesitation, she asked:
“Do I remind you of your mother?”
It was less of a question and more of a confirmation.
A truth about him that might have been better left unknown.
Before she even finished, Leonid’s expression contorted. Whether from displeasure or because she had struck a nerve, it was unclear.
Such a sudden and stark change seemed too much for a simple question.
Even Yekaterina, who seldom faltered, almost withdrew her hand at his abruptly changed demeanor. Then, with a markedly different expression, Leonid spat out his words.
“Why are you asking me that now?”
“You’re not denying it.”
“Why are you bringing this up?”
“Just curious. Is that not allowed?”
“You, just curious? You?”
A cold sneer settled on Leonid’s face. It was more of a grimace than a smile, chilling to the bone.
“Stop making excuses. If you want to stay, just say so.”
“Stay? Are you referring to Prince Yuri’s request? Why bring that up all of a sudden?”
“Why? You know why. You asked because you said you were curious then vanished without a trace the next day.”
That night when Leonid and Yekaterina first really ‘talked’.
The night Yekaterina first showed a personal interest in him.
Before the darkness of that night even lifted, Yekaterina had disappeared.
The memory has still not settled, and the betrayal he felt then was squeezed anew into his heart by Yekaterina’s question.
After asking about me, you disappeared. You wouldn’t be curious unless you were planning another deception.
Leonid hadn’t realized the depth of the wound left by that incident before Yekaterina inflicted a similar one again.
This time too, Yekaterina seemed to be deceiving him. As if genuinely interested in him, with that innocent look on her face.
The sudden realization infuriated him.
“Speak up. Where are you planning to disappear this time?”
Leonid gripped Yekaterina’s hand firmly.
Even as he showed his anger, Yekaterina’s face remained serene. Like her unvarying voice, her expression did not change.
This calmness only fueled his anger more.
It reminded him of a cat that knocks over a vase and then nonchalantly takes a spot in the sunny part of the room as if nothing had happened.
She had always been like this.
Crossing the boundaries he had set without a care, stirring up turmoil within him, and then irresponsibly withdrawing as if she had no part in the chaos. Leaving him to face yet another morning alone.
A morning filled with the cold realization that he had been deceived and left behind.
He knew now that what had been offered to him was not Yekaterina’s affection but merely a tool for deception.
“You never promised me you wouldn’t leave without notice. Or else speak up. You said you don’t lie, right?”
“….”
No answer came, no matter how long he waited.
Leonid let out a hollow laugh.
It wasn’t a laugh to mock her. It was because he realized that despite knowing she wouldn’t answer, he had still asked, hoping somehow she would.
It had always been like this.
He was not unaware of what kind of person Yekaterina was, nor was he ignorant of her nature.
Regardless of her response to any question, he knew it would not truly mean anything to Yekaterina. He should have just accepted that she would not answer whatever he asked.
“….Do you think you remind me of my mother whenever I see you? Of course. She used to ask me every day to kill her.”
And yet, he answered anyway.
Now, knowing what a foolish choice he had made, he could hardly blame anyone else. Facing a bitter morning with boiling rage and trembling with betrayal, he found no one to direct his anger towards but himself.
Why do you insist on making me into a fool?
Knowing he would end up alone, yet still making that foolish choice.
Perhaps he hoped that someone would cross the line he had drawn. It might have been a story he wanted to tell someone. Leonid had never realized how much had accumulated from being ignored and buried until now.
It would have been better if such a realization had never come from Yekaterina’s indifference, but deep down, Leonid had always longed to share his story with someone.
In the end, it was Yekaterina who pulled the trigger, but it was a dam that was bound to burst someday.
With a face etched in self-mockery and regret, Leonid continued to speak. His words were less addressed to Yekaterina and more like a confession.
“She grabbed her son, who was not even ten years old, and spent the whole day, asking for her husband and to kill herself…”
Marina had survived a fire but was left with severe burns all over her body. She suffered from the burns until her dying breath, and even then, she was searching for her husband.
As if her son had never existed.
“So I can understand why Aunt mistakes you for my mother. You resemble her, even in those terrible aspects.”
Leonid’s voice had noticeably deepened. Would it be strange to feel that this unnatural calmness seemed more like a wildfire?
As if under a relentless disaster where everything equally meets death.
