I am not your father

Charlotte took off her Kaiser coat first, then her own coat, after placing her phone and her apartment key on the dining table. She then went to the bathroom and threw the two coats into the washing machine along with the clothes she was wearing.

She felt disgusted with herself, she was damp and sweaty from fever, plus she reeked of drinking.

After turning on the washing machine and thinking about trying to quit drinking, Charlotte got into the bathtub and turned on the tap, directing it to warm water.

Charlotte kept her necklace on while the water ran through her hair down to her toes, then washed her body with soap and shampoo.

As time passed, her vision became more and more blurry, but Charlotte ignored it because she did not feel hot, especially after she turned the water to cold, allowing her hot body to cool from the cold drops.

Charlotte smoothly got rid of the lingering odors, and when she finished, she turned off the water tap and wrapped the white towel around her wet body and dried it. She did not notice until now that her breathing had become somewhat heavier and intermittent.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, wiped away the tears that had accumulated in her eyes, and then saw her pale white skin reddening.

"Am I feverish?"

Charlotte asked herself in a low voice, then checked her temperature with the back of her hand. She waited a few moments but nothing was hot or different from her original temperature.

She raised her other hand and checked her temperature and as time passed nothing changed.

Then why did she look so red and her eyes were red and on the verge of crying.

To her, it still felt cool and natural in her condition.

Charlotte ignored the situation and took her toothbrush, thinking too much would actually make her sick.

Now it was time to brush her teeth. Charlotte brushed the right side of her teeth twenty times, the left side twenty times, then the top and finally the bottom, after which she spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash.

After finishing, Charlotte checked her breath, it was fresh now but the smell of the drinks was still lingering a little, or was she imagining it.

"Just how many drinks did you drink yesterday…"

She complained at first but suddenly it became important to her.

While she was lost in thought, Charlotte was already tired of remembering the previous night, of which she could only remember small, useless parts.

She walked out of the bathroom and headed to the wardrobe in her bedroom, where Charlotte changed into comfortable long-sleeved pajamas and shorts.

Maybe her choice of clothes wasn't right because she had a fever and still stupidly denied it.

Charlotte rubbed her shoulders and went out into the living room and sat on the sofa.

"Ahh…"

She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed on her couch.

Charlotte stared at the ceiling of the living room and felt the calm around her, when was the last time she had peace and stability in her apartment.

"That's how life is~."

Charlotte muttered in a low voice as she felt drowsy creeping in on her or like she was about to faint.

On the flat bed, Dimitri examined the body lying in front of him, its long, dark blonde locks covering the victim's body and the sides of her face. Dimitri had to gently push the random strands away to examine the victim's face.

Her pale skin was bluish from choking on the water and slightly swollen, along with random bruises accumulating on her cheeks and chapped lips.

Step by step, Dimitri examined the victim's naked body under his keen eyes before he began dissecting her internal organs.

The incision on her neck was sharp and rather long, as if the killer was not only keen on cutting, but that's what he was good at.

Based on the wide incision on one side and the thin incision on the other, Dmitry concluded that the killer was left-handed. This had been one of his assumptions since the beginning of the investigation, but now he was certain.

Dmitri's eyes slid down the victim's upper torso and passed a large number of scars indicating the victim's struggle after or before her wrists and feet were bound.

Dmitri settled on the five fingers of the victim's right hand and noticed the difference in the size of the amputation. Between each finger the length differed by a few millimeters. The killer would sometimes amputate the finger from the middle, sometimes from the bottom, and sometimes from the top. After staring for a while, Dmitry took out the table of tools designated for dissection and prepared to begin. Second operation.

He could no longer scrutinize the other parts, and Dimitri could only imagine the suffering the victim had endured before dying in such an unwanted manner, but now he had to find out what was inside.

Darkness and cold… complete emptiness…

In the middle of an empty room Charlotte stood, her black eyes staring intensely as she could see nothing but a black mist.

All around her, there was a strong smell that was suffocating her…a smell that she could not recognize because she was not used to it.

She blinked and saw Kaiser at the club table, gently touching her cheek and telling her to get up to go home, then she closed her eyes against her will.

The hot breath was so close to her face that it almost blended with her own.

"Not possible…"

Someone next to her whispered, his tone rough and dark because of the way he held her hand.

"Stop my desires."

Suddenly, Charlotte woke up from her nightmare and opened her eyes. She felt a heat in her throat, so she quickly got up and headed towards the bathroom.

She opened the toilet and frantically vomited everything her stomach could get out.

The melted ice cream and drinks she'd had yesterday that had been stuck inside her stomach wall, now mixed together and mixed with the burning yellow phlegm shot out of Charlotte's throat.

After vomiting for a while, Charlotte pushed her hair back and took a deep breath.

The hardest thing for her was vomiting with or without a reason, and now she was alone and vomiting in her bathroom, with no one around to put his arms around her stomach to relieve the pain, and no one to pat her back to calm her down.

Cold beads of sweat were sticking to her forehead, hot tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her feet stiffened from the numbness in her legs as she flushed the toilet to flush out her foul-smelling vomit.

After a long struggle, Charlotte reached the sink and turned on the water to wash her face and mouth.

This time, she felt the heat engulfing her face, after soaking her face in cold water.

Charlotte turned off the tap and took out the small towel to dry her wet face and hair after washing herself.

She leaned against the wall, staring at the towel after drying herself. Then Charlotte noticed the yellowing of her fingertips, so she tilted her head slightly towards the wall, closed her eyes, and then opened them again.

Was what she was seeing now real or was it her imagination due to fatigue?

After a short while, Charlotte ignored her fingertips and tossed the towel aside. She was about to get out of the bathroom but stopped because the washing machine's timer stopped.

She turned and walked towards the washing machine that rang the finishing bell and turned it off first, then took the dry and clean clothes and threw them on the sofa in the living room and lay down next to her.

For some reason, her health condition was deteriorating now, deteriorating so quickly that she still felt numb in parts of her body.

Charlotte had not had a moment's rest on the sofa when the knock on her door began.

At first she thought she was having a hallucination but the knocking didn't stop, prompting Charlotte to slowly get up from the couch and head towards the door.

"I. "

Charlotte suddenly closed her mouth after the rough sensation she felt after saying "I" in her throat, and was unable to complete the sentence "I'm coming" in a clear voice in one go.

Her body staggered until she reached the door and turned the handle, clearing her throat and coughing in a very low voice so that whoever was behind the door would not notice her.

"Good morning."

When Charlotte opened the door, she was greeted by Leonid's calm voice and his sharp looks.

Leonid, dressed in his usual black suit, was standing at the door, Hunter's stove in his hand.

After looking at Charlotte in her curve-hugging pajamas for a few moments, Leonid didn't say anything else.

He kept staring at Charlotte, who leaned her head against the door, and could barely open her eyes properly, until he dared to ask coldly, saying:

"What's wrong? You don't look good."

Leonid judged by the sight of Charlotte that she didn't look well.

"Are you tired?"

Leonid bent his knees and leaned on them to look at Charlotte closely. Beads of sweat were prominent on her forehead, and her eyes were red and teary.

"Answer me."

While Charlotte remained silent, Leonid felt increasingly strange.

Are you listening to him? What happened to her to make her look like this? He wondered to himself and raised his hand to her protruding cheek on the other side and felt it.

"this."

At first Leonid pulled his palm away when he felt the heat of Charlotte's body, but he quickly brought it back and gently caressed her hot cheek.

"You have a fever. How and when did this happen?"

"Umm…"

Instead of resting her head on the door, Charlotte leaned her head toward Leonid's hand and enjoyed the familiar coolness of his hand.

"Um?!"