Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 19: Attention

The night air felt stifling.

It was as if someone were pressing their hands around my throat, squeezing out all my breath.

Unable to bear the suffocation, I woke up and tried to open the window.

It wouldn’t budge—the latch was locked.

I considered breaking the glass but stopped myself. If I did, the entire household would come rushing into my room.

Better to hold back for now.

After all, today was one of those days when I was expected to go out.

One of those regular occasions where I’d dress up in elaborate clothes and parade myself, begging to be taken by some man.

Was a life spent struggling to open an immovable window every day even worth living?

Still, I could go outside occasionally. Surely, being unable to open a window didn’t mean I was entirely trapped.

That would be an exaggeration.

I didn’t like to overthink things.

Ellie wasn’t wrong—while I may not be stupid, I hadn’t been formally schooled, so I hadn’t learned much of value.

In about two hours, the sun would rise.

I pulled out my notebook, which had only three pages left, and resumed sketching the flower I had been drawing earlier.

The flower Mother had plucked and left wilting on my desk.

Flowers are most beautiful when they bloom in the ground’s rich soil. But lying severed on the desk, this one was pitiful.

Its leaves had shriveled, and its once-green stem had turned black.

I could try placing it in a jar of cool, sugary water to preserve it a little longer, but that was all it could endure.

Even so, a flower was still a flower.

It remained beautiful, defiantly showing off its presence as if to proclaim it was still intact.

The same couldn’t be said for the flower in my sketch. It was a mess.

Frustrated, I closed the notebook and glanced out the window, where the sun was beginning to rise.

By now, Ellie and Mother would be awake. It should be fine to use the bathroom.

Though my body was still bruised all over, the marks were starting to fade.

Maybe today I could wear something lighter.

The suffocating air, thick with people’s breaths, the oppressive heat of crowded indoor spaces—all of it was unbearable.

If only the chandelier lights ran on electricity.

While streetlights might be excusable, chandeliers were lit by candles purely out of vanity, making the ballroom sweltering.

There were endless reasons to avoid going.

But as Mother’s puppet, I had to move as she commanded.

When would freedom come?

When Mother died?

Or when I did?

I didn’t see death as freedom.

It wasn’t an escape or refuge.

I wasn’t cornered like that.

What kind of fool would think fleeing into the unknown by death was the answer?

What lay at the end of that path? How could anyone leap into it so easily without knowing?

As I washed myself in the bathroom, I let my thoughts wander.

Just then, the door opened.

There was no need to blush or cover myself—it was only a maid here to clean.

Standing naked before a servant felt no more embarrassing than standing naked before a robotic vacuum.

Especially when the maid was the scatterbrained Rin.

“I’m still bathing. Could you shut the door and leave?”

“S-sorry, my lady!”

The girl quickly closed the door and scurried away.

I stared at where she had stood moments ago, then sank back into the tub, exhaling bubbles into the water.

Watching the bubbles rise was oddly satisfying.

I could find happiness just by playing in warm water. So why did I have to attend the ballroom?

To be wrapped in useless, extravagant underwear and dresses, adorned with accessories…

Despite my body, I didn’t consider myself a woman at heart.

I had simply grown used to living in Emily’s body.

I stepped out of the bath, dried myself thoroughly with a towel, and dressed in light indoor clothing while waiting for the corset fitting.

Since corsets weren’t designed to be put on alone, I needed a servant’s help.

As I idly stared at the ceiling, Ellie approached and spoke.

“You’re up early, Sister. Excited for the ball?

Then again, last time you got to spend time with Ernst….”

“In the garden. With Aria, that friend of his.”

Ellie’s hair was messy, there was crust in her left eye, and the neckline of her nightgown was stretched out.

“…Ernst wouldn’t hang out with someone as rude and classless as her.”

“Go wash yourself.”

Ellie stuck out her tongue at me and headed to the bathroom.

Later, after my corset was tightened, I applied light makeup, donned some accessories, and climbed into the carriage waiting out front. That was half of today’s schedule.

The other half would be spent chatting with similarly dull people, enduring the tedious ball, dancing with strangers whose names I didn’t know, and hearing insufferable remarks while sitting in a corner, killing time.

“Emily, today I want to see you dancing at the center of the stage with Ernst,” Mother said softly as she joined me in the carriage. We were still waiting for Ellie to finish getting ready.

“But Ernst doesn’t like me.”

Do you think I married your father out of love?

We married because we were suitable, because we got along well enough.

You should aim to be a comfortable wife, not a romantic lover.

Mother pressed her fan against the bruised skin on my arm that hadn’t yet healed.

Men might keep mistresses, but that’s nothing to fret over.

Just do as I say.

You haven’t learned your lesson even after being punished last time, have you?

If Father ever dared keep a mistress, Mother would lose her temper and throw a fit. So why did she spout this nonsense?

Still, my arm hurt, so I replied obediently, “Yes, Mother.”

Shortly after, Ellie entered the carriage, lavishly dressed and ready for the ball.

The smell of heavy cosmetics filled the air, triggering my thoughts.

Sitting beside Ellie, with her thickly applied makeup, Mother looked like a brothel madam showing off her newest product.

Ellie, of course, seemed oblivious to such notions.

The carriage ride lasted about three hours—longer than usual, as we were heading somewhere far away.

Ellie lounged back, half-lying down in apparent exhaustion, yet Mother said nothing to her.

Meanwhile, I had to sit with my back perfectly straight, not allowing my posture to falter.

It felt unfair, but I knew better than to complain. Speaking out would only earn me a beating.

At least I’d thought ahead to bring painkillers today.

I hope I wouldn’t end up coughing up blood like last time, hopefully.

When we finally arrived, Mother and Ellie went off in another direction. 

After stretching my stiff back, I walked off to find somewhere to pass the time.

My back ached.

My legs felt a little numb.

The cramped carriage hadn’t helped.

On top of that, the servants had tightened my corset much more than usual—perhaps out of dislike for me, or maybe because they thought it would make me look prettier.

The corset was so tight that even when I breathed deeply, my chest barely rose or fell.

What was I trying to achieve by clinging to this life, struggling to survive day by day?

It wasn’t a philosophical question, even if it might seem that way.

I wasn’t one of those pretentious types who’d claim suicide is the only way to determine whether life is worth living.

Anyone who wants to prove the value of life by ending it is a lunatic.

People naturally want to live.

Even when faced with things that aren’t beautiful, we try to see beauty in them and strive to live positively.

Who could look up at the sky and genuinely say they want to die?

Anyone saying that must be so exhausted they’ve given up even looking at the sky.

Though dark, dreary, humid, and cloud-filled, the sky was vast.

And within it, I could see birds flying.

I’d always wanted to fly like that.

“You got here early.”

While I was staring at the sky, ensuring no one was around, a voice called out from behind me.

“…I don’t think we’re close enough to be speaking informally.”

“And what does being ‘close enough’ even mean?”

“I wouldn’t know. I just think people who aren’t close, like you, shouldn’t speak informally to each other.”

“Hah, but I don’t want to stop.”

Why did this person insist on approaching me so uncomfortably closely?

“Normally, when I approach you alone, you’d get angry and lash out at me.”

“Do I have a reason to?”

“Oh, plenty. For instance, I could have stolen your precious Ernst.”

“Ernst doesn’t belong to anyone. If he likes you, then he should end up with you.”

“…Are you serious?

We’re talking about a boy you’ve been close to since childhood—someone you’ve liked for so long—and you’re okay with losing him to me?”

Who knows? Maybe it isn’t even Ernst we’re talking about.

Your face is so beautiful that countless people flock to you anyway.

“Well, whatever. If you came to gossip about trivial things like that, I’m not interested. So don’t come near me.”

I’d rather spend my time watching the birds.