Please Kill Me - Chapter 21

He was the man who had attempted to capture Yekaterina earlier in the day, following Sergei’s orders. The area where he was kicked was the same spot Yekaterina had struck.

The man, already showing signs of a severe beating, seemed to have no part of his body untouched.

The young man’s foot pressed down gently on the man’s hand, which was clutching his shoulder.

“Agh!”

The man was now almost in tears, crawling on the ground.

The young man’s cruelty was fierce. However, in Offenbach, such scenes were all too common.

A family where only obedient dogs and those strong enough to control them survive.

“If you went to capture my sister following Father’s orders, you should have either succeeded or, as per my instructions, protected her. What reason do I have to spare you when you failed at both?”

“Please, Young, Young Master Dmitry, I beg for mercy…”

“Mercy.”

Dmitry’s dry voice spread slowly across the floor like a torn piece of fabric.

“You speak of mercy as if it’s some grand act of forbearance. It’s merely a form of training.”

The room that was entirely black, and the young man with silver hair created a stark contrast, fittingly harsh in their pairing.

Now a grown man, Dmitry’s physique resembled that of a wild beast bulking up, perhaps because his deep gaze bore an age-inappropriate sense of regret.

He twisted his wrist, running his fingertips down the silver blade of his sword.

“Bestow mercy, and the beast wags its tail… Repeat a few times, and you can make a bipedal animal walk on its own without a leash.”

“Please, just spare me… I’ll do anything for you…”

The man begged pitifully. Dmitry’s gloved hand grabbed the man’s face, bringing their eyes close together.

For the first time, the man saw Dmitry’s face up close – it was as beautiful as an angel.

Could he be about to spare him? The man clung to that beauty with a glimmer of hope.

But then,

“Why would I bother training you?”

The young man smiled gently. It was followed by the man’s face being released and crashing to the ground.

What came next was a dry, harsh voice.

“You’ve ruined all my plans.”

The man’s breath was soon cut short.

Dmitry looked down indifferently at the man lying dead at his feet and dropped his sword. He gazed emotionlessly.

Whatever his thoughts, Dmitry continued to stare at the dead man for a moment before turning to leave.

Or, he intended to.

“Dmitry? Are you in here?”

Had his mother Ludmilla not entered the room, Dmitry would have maintained the detached gaze of a ruthless executioner.

Unperturbed by the room’s stench of blood, Ludmilla approached her beloved son. Despite her attire and voice being completely out of place in the grim room, she was an Offenbach through and through.

“I’ve been looking for you. I thought you’d be at the training ground, but you weren’t there either.”

“Training ended a while ago, Mother.”

As Dmitry gave her a gentle and kind smile, Ludmilla affectionately caressed his cheek.

“Yes, you’ve worked hard. Things have been tough lately, haven’t they? Especially with the succession ceremony just a year away.”

“…Yes.”

“If anything, your sister should be setting a good example at such a time, but she was so stubborn this morning…”

“Mother.”

His gentle voice carried a subtle yet assertive force.

Ludmilla flinched slightly and withdrew her hand from Dmitry’s face. Yet, Dmitry continued to smile warmly.

“Is that all you came here for?”

Ludmilla retreated. She then cautiously broached the subject with a worried face.

“…Actually, it’s about Yekaterina. She caused a commotion at the slaughterhouse this morning and then disappeared. I was wondering if you knew anything…”

Of course, he knew. But as always, Dmitry feigned ignorance.

“Sister disappeared?”

“Yes. Your father seems to have wanted to discipline her, but no one can find her. I even have to attend the tea party alone because of it. If we don’t find Yekaterina by dinner, your father’s anger will be more than just a little problem…”

Ludmilla wasn’t worried about Yekaterina. Her concern was solely for her own well-being and, occasionally, for her beloved son Dmitry, Sergei’s pride.

A familiar weakness.

And that was also why Dmitry always found her disconcerting.

The responsibility for the children lay entirely on Ludmilla.

If Sergei was the whip, Ludmilla was the carrot – nurturing and overseeing the education to ensure the children didn’t deviate. That was the only duty the frail Ludmilla had in the Offenbach household.

But now, with Yekaterina missing, it was the trembling Ludmilla who would have to bear the responsibility.