Please Kill Me - Chapter 84
It was more the weight of her words that silenced him.
“So, I went to Offenbach and, fortunately, I became an adoptive daughter. But remembering my original family isn’t particularly painful because I’ve forgotten all about them.”
After entering Offenbach, Yekaterina had to forget her previous life.
She had to forget who her family members were, that they loved her, and that she loved them in return—all of it.
Otherwise, she couldn’t have endured life in Offenbach.
She had to pretend as if those precious moments had never existed.
“I was seven, so you’d think I would remember something, but I don’t recall anything about my original family. I’m lucky I’ve forgotten after trying so hard to.”
“What the hell…”
“Are you going to mock me for not remembering my own family?”
Yekaterina’s question visibly crumpled Leonid’s face.
“Is that something to mock?”
“You’re the same.”
It wasn’t something to mock.
Terrible memories often linger longer than the good ones. Yekaterina wouldn’t mock the effort it takes to try not to dwell on dreadful times.
Wasn’t she the one who had forcibly forgotten even the happy memories with her family to survive?
Yekaterina dropped her gaze. She took Leonid’s hand. The hand, which was a joint larger, was clunky and heavy.
Each callus marked a hard-fought life.
“What is important is that you survived. Despite everything.”
Life itself holds meaning just by existing.
Thus, only those who survive can be called better for tomorrow than they were today.
At Yekaterina’s words, Leonid looked slightly stunned. He alternated between looking at his hand that she had grasped and her indifferent expression, then chuckled.
“…You talk about such things so casually.”
“Should I not have mentioned it?”
“There’s nothing you shouldn’t mention. It’s just…”
Leonid paused for a moment. He was searching for the right words—not so much out of caution towards Yekaterina, but more from struggling to find the appropriate expression.
“It’s not usually easy to bring up such stories, is it?”
“Why should it be difficult? I’m not making up any stories.”
“Yeah, right. I shouldn’t have expected you to follow common sense. Just be more careful. You’re too reckless.”
“Are you warning me now?”
“You cross lines too easily.”
“Me?”
Yekaterina was rarely flustered.
Who else here has been consistently crossing the lines and causing confusion?
“So, who else is here? Just like you get upset if I grab you suddenly, you should also be cautious—”
“I’m not upset though.”
“Just a figure of speech.”
“Did it upset you when I grabbed your hand?”
“I’m not talking about that,”
“I’m sorry if it did upset you.”
“I’ve never been upset! Dammit, why do you always make me out to be some sort of a wrecker?”
Finally, Leonid burst out, lifting the hand they were holding.
“Logically, if it upset me, would I still be holding your hand? Holding hands isn’t a big deal—”
“Is holding hands not a big deal? I don’t really know. It’s been over a decade since I last held someone’s hand.”
“What?”
“You’re practically the first. For me, that is.”
Leonid, forgetting his previous anger, stared blankly at Yekaterina.
‘What did this woman just say?’
The woman, a head smaller than him, seemed oblivious to the fact that her words might feel strange to someone else.
If she knew, she wouldn’t be standing there so calmly as if nothing had happened.
‘Has it really been over ten years since she last held someone’s hand?’
How is that even possible? Hand holding is almost a basic form of social interaction.
Even without meaning to, hands touch in the course of living.
To not have that happen at all.
‘Was she isolated somewhere?’
If not living entirely alone, it would be unlikely for her to have spent ten years without even touching someone’s hand. Yet, looking back, this type of conversation was not new to them.
— Do you really think it’s possible to sever emotions like that?
— Yes, I’ve done it.
— ….You have?
Conversations they had while walking through the forest from the past, played again in Leonid’s mind. He had not thought deeply about them at the time. But now, they seemed utterly unnatural.
It wasn’t that the context of their discussions was unnatural. Rather, it was the way responses that completely contradicted what Leonid had always assumed came so effortlessly from her.
In the past, he might have consciously ignored these doubts. Leonid had no intention of deeply understanding Yekaterina. After all, as Yuri had said, she was an enemy’s daughter, merely someone to be used. There was nothing good about forming a deep connection with her.
But at that moment, such thoughts didn’t even occur to him. Staring blankly at the hand he held, Leonid asked,
“Don’t you have anyone close to you?”
“At the moment, you’re the closest.”
“Don’t play with words.”
“I know I’ve lost your trust, but I didn’t think you saw me as someone who would joke about this.”
He knew it. He rather hoped it was just playful banter.
