Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapters 44: Just That

Unfortunately, among my neighbors, there is no grumpy old German painter with a full beard.

Nor am I afflicted with some strange, melodramatic depression like the one that makes people weep about dying when the last leaf falls.

I can’t deny that I’ve said I wanted to die. Other people, too, casually blurt it out when a bit of misfortune interrupts their otherwise happy lives.

Maybe it’s just a part of me.

But on second thought, I realize that I want to live. No one truly wants to die.

This back-and-forth, this dizzying uncertainty—it’s probably because I haven’t been taking my medication.

One thing’s for sure: I want to get out of here. I don’t want to stay in this lavish, pristine mansion anymore.

It’s not something that should have been given to me.

“I think I misspoke earlier. I’m sorry, Aria.”

“…Forget it. Just stay in bed. Your leg is in that state, so why do you keep trying to get up?”

I tried to rise but fell again, pain surging through me. Aria caught me, startled, but I pushed her away and began crawling toward the door.

It’s been a while since I crawled like this—it was oddly amusing.

Until Aria effortlessly picked me up and placed me back on the bed.

“Do you pity me?” I asked.

“…Yes.”

“Is that so?”

“Aria, I have a favor to ask.”

“Tell me. If I can, I’ll help.”

“If my cough gets better, or if I feel like I’m about to die…”

I trailed off mid-sentence.

“…Maybe you should stop talking about dying.”

Instead of replying, I asked her a question.

“Why are you doing all this for me?”

I asked hesitantly, knowing full well that I was a worthless person—neurotic, sickly, and useless.
Helping someone like me is a waste of time.

“Because I consider you a friend.”

“We’re friends?”

Aria said yes, with conviction.

I covered my face with my hands, rubbing my eyes furiously. It made me feel a little better.

“Ernst said he’d visit, didn’t he?”

“He’s busy, so he probably won’t come today.”

I nodded, unsure what could possibly keep Ernst busy. Still, friends, huh.

I don’t get it. A friend is someone you know well, someone you’re close to. That’s all. But I don’t think I fall into that category.

“Is there a musical instrument in the mansion?”

“There’s a piano, and I have an old violin from when I was young.”

“When morning comes, lend them to me. You’ve given me a drink, a fine room, and splints for my leg. I’ll repay my friend with a performance.”

Aria looked puzzled.

“Ellie’s Perspective”

Ellie claimed—whether it was an excuse or the truth didn’t matter—that Emily had fallen.

She said Emily had been dancing on the railing before it happened.

Did my youngest daughter expect me to believe that?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Emily must have upset Ellie somehow.

She always did.

Even now, I can’t forget the humiliation she caused me.

Though I had never been unfaithful, everyone accused me of sharing my bed with a nameless man behind my husband’s back.

They ridiculed me—my parents, my in-laws, my friends, everyone.

But I swear, the first man I kissed, the first man I slept with, the only man I’ve ever been with, is my husband.

Now it’s almost laughable, but my husband still feels guilty and uncomfortable around me because of it. He avoids coming home, claiming he’s too busy.

As far as I’m concerned, a woman belongs to her husband. A man so easily shaken by something he owns isn’t much of a man. But I’ve benefited from it.

Thanks to his absence, my children obey me without question. Daniel, Ellie—they listen to me perfectly.

“Mother, Emily can’t move because she’s hurt! Shouldn’t we send for a physician?”

Ellie’s pleading made me smile as I stroked her head. Ah, my lovely, obedient daughter, so much like me. 

She’s nothing like that strange creature with red eyes and white hair—so different, so alien.

That girl has always been a thorn in my side, and she’ll live her life burdened by guilt for it.

Even now, she has the nerve to lift her chin as if she’s done nothing wrong, ignoring the generosity of food, shelter, and even medical attention I’ve allowed her.

She needs to learn where all these things come from.

“Is it really necessary to send for someone? If she fell on her own, as you said, she should handle it herself.”

Ellie looked shocked at my response, so I quickly embraced her, soothing her.

“Ellie, as I’ve told you before, your sister only exists to make things difficult for you. She called you there to upset you, knowing she wouldn’t have the courage to seriously hurt herself.”

“But, Mother, she fell from there! She’s definitely hurt!”

Nothing but Another Incident

Not many people had gathered. At most, a few couples strolling through the garden stopped by to watch for a moment before leaving.

So, it would remain a trivial incident, not something to occupy people’s conversations for long. It would fade away, forgotten—unless Emily had fallen headfirst and broken her neck.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? That she was just sitting there laughing below. Let’s just take the carriage back, the two of us. That child needs a good scolding.”

Because I’ve lost everything. Because of her, I lost it all.

Ellie and I locked eyes.

“Well? Answer me.”

“…Yes, Mother.”

When Ellie calls me “Mother,” it feels genuine. But when she calls me “Mother,” there’s always an air of distance, of hesitation.

Perhaps this feeling grew stronger from the day she suddenly asked me to buy her musical instruments. She acted like she’d become a completely different person.

That child wasn’t particularly intelligent. She wasn’t particularly talented.

When I scolded her, she used to beg for forgiveness, pleading that it was her fault. But one day, though her mouth still said the words, her eyes began to carry a chilling look.

Even her appearance was nothing like mine—there was always something unsettling about her. It must have been those wretched red eyes.

There was a time when I tried to stop hating her.

Once, I even thought locking her in the wardrobe after punishing her was too harsh.

But in the end, that child doesn’t feel like mine. She must be a devil—or a demon—that devoured the baby meant to be born and took its place.

She may share my blood, but she knows too much. She knows things she never learned.

Even after reading just one letter, she could read the same books as Fabian, who had been tutored by excellent teachers.

So I stripped her of everything. Everything she was inexplicably good at, I took from her.

“Ellie, if your sister upset you, why don’t you rest in the parlor for today?”

Ellie nodded and walked off to the parlor.

As expected, Emily is nothing but trouble for this family. She’s ruined the once-happy, harmonious home we had from the very moment she was born.

I should have let my husband throw her away when she was just a baby.

The lively music from the ballroom filled the air again. Dancers formed circles, spinning endlessly.

Ernst, the young man from the neighboring mansion, seems to have taken quite a liking to Emily. Perhaps I could sell her to him for a fair price.

It’s only natural for a son-in-law to offer his mother-in-law a thoughtful gift, after all. And given Ernst’s wealthy family, I expect a thoughtful gift to be quite impressive.

If it doesn’t meet expectations, I could always marry Emily off to some rich old man instead.

At one point, I considered handing her off to the young friend my husband introduced me to. But Ernst is clearly a more valuable match.

I dropped hints to Emily about this, speaking lightly of reality and the situation she’s in.

Whenever I broach the subject, her desperate clinging to Ernst, as though she’d rather die than end up under some bloated old man, is laughable—even to me.

When I was young and forced into an engagement with my husband, my mother said something I’ll never forget:

“Children are the rightful property of their parents, so they must obey.”

Back then, I hated those words. But now, I can’t think of anything more agreeable.

Before Emily spirals completely out of control, she must be dealt with.

Once, she ruined everything I held dear. So, it’s only right for her to be ruined as well.

But since I plan to sell her, she must at least resemble a person.

Because no matter how I look at her, that unsettling child is not my daughter.