Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 18: Tired

That evening’s dinner passed without incident.

Mother’s usual snide remark about eating less didn’t count—it was too routine to be noteworthy.

Honestly, it was surprising.

I had been sure Ellie would go whining to Mother.

That’s just the kind of child she was.

After dinner, when the family returned to their rooms, I followed behind Ellie as she walked to hers.

I made my presence known by clapping lightly, but she didn’t even glance back, as if she were deaf.

Not wanting to touch her, I called out quietly, “Ellie.”

She turned, her expression briefly startled.

Come to think of it, while I’d been dragged off to the punishment room after dinner like a condemned prisoner, I’d never tried talking to anyone afterward.

“What is it, Sister?”

“You finally looked back.”

“What do you want to say now?”

“Why didn’t you tell Mother?”

“…What? Should I go tell her now that you said nasty things to me?”

“That would be a problem.”

Her smug, teasing smile made me want to roll my eyes.

She wasn’t particularly bright, nor did she excel at anything, despite attending school, yet she carried herself like this.

As I mulled over these thoughts, Ellie said something out of the blue.

“You know, Sister, you never speak, and you always look at us like we’re idiots. It’s really unpleasant.”

“…What?”

“When you look at people with those creepy eyes, of course they’ll feel the way I do.

But you’re the worst of all.

You’re the one with white hair and red eyes, dumb, incapable of speaking properly, and unable to do anything!”

“Why are you saying this all of a sudden? I just came to ask why you didn’t tell Mother.”

Ellie looked at me, a tinge of frustration in her gaze.

I couldn’t fathom why she was saying such things.

It felt like she was projecting some kind of inferiority complex onto me.

But Ellie was superior to me in every way.

As she’d said, I had white hair, while Ellie’s was a beautiful gold.

My eyes were red, while the rest of the family’s were blue.

As for speaking, I may have chosen not to speak, but I wasn’t great at it either.

And it’s true I couldn’t do much, so there was no point denying that.

Still, that wasn’t what I’d come to ask about.

“You usually would’ve gone to Mother and told her by now. I was curious why you didn’t.”

“…Shut up. If I told her, I’d just get hit more. I’m not some masochist who enjoys punishment.”

“Ellie. You knew what happened in that room.”

“I didn’t know it was that bad…!”

Ellie bit her lip hard and continued, “And anyway, it’s all your fault you got punished. It’s always your fault!

Yesterday too—it was your fault!

You knew Ernst likes you, so you didn’t deliver my letter, didn’t you? Just to keep him to yourself!

Why should I care if you’re covered in bruises or not? Why should I be considerate of someone like you…?”

Even though I was standing right in front of her, Ellie spoke as if I were invisible, mumbling to herself with her arms crossed before glaring at me.

“Ha. Consideration? What a joke. You wouldn’t have gotten punished if you didn’t cause trouble in the first place.”

Ellie jabbed my chest with her finger, pushing me back slightly.

It hurt more than it should have, likely because my body was already sore.

“I’ll just give it back to you. I don’t want to talk to you, so get lost.”

Ellie glanced briefly at my arms and legs, as if checking something, then retreated into her room.

I had no idea why she was acting this way, but I didn’t care.

Back in my room, I sat at my desk, adding more notes about my run with Ernst to my journal. I took another pill from the old man’s bag and swallowed it.

Almost immediately, I felt dazed, the pain in my body disappearing.

For a moment, I felt so light I thought I could run again.

Of course, when I tried to stand, my legs wobbled, and I could barely keep my balance.

There was something about these painkillers—they made me feel oddly good.

I didn’t know what they were made of, but it felt almost magical.

***

The next morning, after breakfast, I was in the small garden, observing the flowers.

While sketching them in my notebook, I heard footsteps approaching.

Quickly hiding the drawing in my chest, I turned toward the sound and saw Mother walking toward me.

“Go on with what you were doing. You were drawing, weren’t you?”

“No, I’ve finished.”

Even if I wanted to keep drawing, I couldn’t with her standing next to me—my hands would shake too much.

I already felt like the potato soup from breakfast was threatening to come back up.

“So, you’ve gotten closer to that charming Ernst boy lately, haven’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“I told you to befriend him ages ago, but you wouldn’t listen. It’s fortunate my scolding finally worked.”

Mother walked over to the flower I had been sketching, sniffed it, inspected its leaves, and then plucked it, handing it to me.

“You’ll draw it better up close, won’t you?

By the way, I heard you had quite the chat with Ellie last night. You two must be getting close.”

“…….”

“Emily, didn’t I teach you that it’s polite to answer when an adult asks you a question?”

Fear shot through me as I braced for the possibility of being dragged back to that room. I stammered out a rapid response.

“Not Really We Didn’t Get That Close!”

“Well, I suppose it makes sense. Ellie wouldn’t open her heart to someone like you.”

Relieved that she didn’t seem too upset, I let my guard down—until her hand suddenly struck my cheek.

“Didn’t I tell you not to respond too quickly or too slowly?”

A woman who knew little beyond clinging to other ladies, gossiping, flaunting vanity, and drowning herself in jewels and expensive dresses had just slapped me.

And all I could do was this:

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, forcing a sweet smile as I bowed my head.

I silently begged her to stop tormenting me, to stop making my life unbearable.

Humiliation washed over me, but I didn’t tremble.

I’d learned not to; the last time I did, I’d been beaten until I fainted.

“Your eyes are always so unpleasant to look at. So, when do you think Ernst will start liking you?”

Ernst doesn’t like me.

And I don’t like Ernst either.

At least, not in a romantic sense.

We’re close friends.

Or at least we were when we were younger.

I didn’t want to ruin that friendship.

If we became anything more than friends, even this fragile connection would disappear.

Of course, there’s nothing about me that’s better than Aria—my personality is awful, too—so even if Ernst had any feelings for me, they’d fade quickly.

“Ernst likes someone else, not me. You saw her at the ball, Mother. Her name’s Aria….”

“You mean that ‘friend’ of yours who came looking for you?”

“How did you—?”

“The maids are maids for a reason, aren’t they?”

Mother scoffed and continued, “Regardless, don’t associate with someone like her.

She’s uneducated, practically a commoner, ignorant of etiquette, and unbearably insolent.”

“…Yes.”

“Emily. My daughter.”

Not my beautiful daughter.

That sort of line is reserved for Ellie.

“I want you to marry Ernst.”

“That depends on whether Ernst wants it.”

“You have to make the effort. Other beautiful women might win a man over just by wearing a fancy dress and opening their legs, but you’ll have to try.

You must strive to become the perfect wife.

You’ll need to turn a blind eye to mistresses, whisper sweet nothings starting now, and do whatever it takes.”

I know my friend is remarkable.

But is it worth clinging to him like this?

Ernst is just an ordinary, charming young man who gets distracted by pretty things and gets along well with everyone.

Standing next to someone like him only highlights how out of place I am.

And more than anything, I didn’t want to follow Mother’s orders.

I wanted to let her words wash over me, to ignore them entirely.

She always talks about the grace of giving birth to and raising me, but if this is what “raising” means, wouldn’t sticking a knife in her belly qualify as filial piety?

Mother clicked her tongue, plucked another flower blooming near the one she’d already taken, and walked off to who-knows-where.

Probably to meet someone else.

It didn’t matter—there wouldn’t be anything left for her in the end.

I had a sudden, violent urge to press a gun to the back of her head and pull the trigger.

Just one bang, and I imagined a rush of ecstasy in my mind.

When I returned to the house, Ellie, Fabian, and the fourth child glanced at me before pretending I didn’t exist.

The fourth merely watched me as though I were a source of entertainment.

Exhausted, I retreated to my room, even though it was only midday. I swallowed a handful of pills and collapsed onto my bed.

A heavy lethargy set in, and I felt as if I couldn’t summon strength even to my fingertips.

As the medication began to wear off, a dull ache crept into my legs.

Each breath made my throat feel as though it were burning.

The room spun slightly before my eyes.

It felt like a fever might be coming on, though at least I wasn’t coughing anymore—thanks to the pills, perhaps.

But the dizziness remained.

In truth, I might have exaggerated the symptoms.

I was just tired.

Yes, tired.

Of everything.

Mother, Fabian, Daniel, the fourth, Ellie, Father, and Ernst.

And this wretched body of mine.

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