Misha was completely unclear as to what exactly was happening, but she knew her father was currently facing danger. She had no way to just play dumb and pretend nothing was wrong.
However, the very moment she raised her crossbow, mist enveloped the entire room. Now, Misha could see nothing at all; she could only hold her weapon and observe her surroundings with extreme wariness.
In the next instant, she felt the world spin. Under Lyudmila's attack, she lost her balance and fell to the floor. Crownslayer pinned her down instantly, a blade held across her neck, pressed tightly against the skin.
"Don't do it! This has absolutely nothing to do with Misha! If you want revenge, just come at me!"
Sergei lay on the ground in agony. He wanted to get up to protect his daughter, but in this state, he was completely powerless. He couldn't even manage to stand.
It made sense when one thought about it. Sergei and Misha had been practically imprisoned here; how could they be a match for Lyudmila, who had trained diligently for so many years specifically for this vengeance? If they were, it would be far too ironic.
"I remember you had a son, didn't you? Why is only the daughter out here protecting you? Is he preparing a sneak attack from the shadows?"
Lyudmila looked at the subdued Misha and questioned Sergei curiously. She hadn't forgotten Misha's twin brother. What was his name? It seemed to be Alex, right?
"Alex... Alex became an Infected a while ago. Everyone except for me and Misha became Infected... They were sent to the mines long ago."
Sergei wore an expression of intense pain. He had betrayed his comrades specifically for Alex's sake, yet in the end, he had protected nothing. Only his daughter had escaped a similar fate by hiding.
Though Sergei couldn't see Lyudmila's expression right now, he assumed her eyes must be filled with disdain and mockery. He had traded the safety of his son for the betrayal of his companions, only for that son to be sent to the mining districts in the next breath. Even Sergei couldn't figure out what exactly he had managed to protect.
"But, Lyudmila, I still beg of you—please let Misha go! I am the one who betrayed your father, and I am the one who caused the deaths of everyone in the research institute. If there is hatred, just direct it at me!"
Hearing Sergei's words, Lyudmila pulled the blade away from Misha's neck. However, her eyes betrayed a conflicted emotion. After a long moment, she pushed Misha out of the door.
In truth, Lyudmila had really wanted to kill both Sergei and Misha right then and there. The demon of hatred in her heart had been whispering in her ear, urging her on.
But at the moment the blade was about to slit Misha's throat, Lyudmila recalled the look Jeanne had given her earlier—that gaze where one could feel the burning hatred with just a single glance. Even without a mirror, Lyudmila believed her own eyes now held the same expression as Jeanne's did then: a hatred bordering on madness.
Yet she remembered Jeanne's warning. She could not vent her rage here without restraint; she could not let hatred twist her soul. She could not become that monster named Crownslayer...
Lyudmila lifted her knife. Just as Misha breathed a sigh of relief, Lyudmila kicked her away with full force. A dull thud echoed as flesh collided with furniture.
"Don't worry, I didn't kill her. While I can't keep her unconscious for half a day, I can manage ten minutes or so."
Lyudmila walked toward Sergei, the knife still gripped in her hand. This allowed Sergei, kneeling on the ground, to breathe a sigh of relief. He was now prepared to face death; his only lingering worry was how Misha would survive in the future.
"Tell me, what kind of deal did Kal'tsit have with you that made you help her escape this city? And who did she sell out so that you lot didn't put her on the wanted list?"
Lyudmila's sharp blade rested against Sergei's neck. If a single word was wrong, she would sever his throat. However, Sergei was left baffled by the question.
"Director Kal'tsit? I didn't have any deal with her at all! She disappeared before the Great Purge arrived. As for whether she made private deals, I wouldn't know, but the possibility is extremely low. Back then, those people were searching the entire city for her."
Sergei spoke the truth nervously. He couldn't figure out what Lyudmila's plan was. Was she testing him for lies, or did she firmly believe Kal'tsit was also a traitor?
However, hearing his account, Lyudmila found that it matched what Kal'tsit had told her. There was a high probability that Kal'tsit hadn't lied. If that was the case, it really was Kal'tsit who sent her to Siracusa back then, yet she had absolutely no memory of it.
"At least you're sensible enough not to cook up lies to fool me."
Hearing her say this, Sergei felt a wave of relief. It seemed his gamble had paid off; Lyudmila had indeed been "fishing" using the information she already possessed. If he had tried to lie just now, she likely would have charged back in to kill Misha before finishing him off. Fortunately, his honesty had saved his daughter's life.
At that moment, a beam of light shone into the room—the guards outside were rushing toward the house.
After so long without a single word from the soldiers inside, suspicions had been raised. After repeated failed attempts to communicate with the interior, they charged toward the building. Their orders were not just to monitor the researcher Sergei, but also to ensure he was silenced forever if he attempted to flee or meet anyone in secret.
Seeing this, Lyudmila knew she could delay no longer. She had to finish things here and evacuate immediately, or they would be surrounded shortly.
Lyudmila raised her sharp knife. A simple flick would slit Sergei's throat; there was no way he could survive. Her arm swung down heavily, a cold glint flashed, and an agonizing scream followed—a sound so loud that even the soldiers outside heard it clearly.
They immediately realized this wasn't an escape attempt by Sergei, but an infiltration by an assassin. They quickened their pace; they absolutely could not let him die at someone else's hands. If his death resulted from their negligence while on guard, and the assassin managed to escape, their superiors would never let them off easily.
But when they burst into Sergei's room with crossbows raised, they found it was too late. Amidst the wreckage lay Sergei in a pool of blood, his life or death unknown. The assassin had already vanished.