Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 8: Conversation (2)

The painkiller seemed to have worked, as I felt slightly better.

Perhaps because of that, I didn’t feel as emotionally volatile at dinner as I had earlier with Fabian.

“Emily, you’ll need to attend the ball tomorrow, so eat lightly tonight.”

I responded with a polite, composed smile, “Yes, Mother.”

Fabian glanced at me with a slightly awkward expression before resuming his meal as if nothing had happened.

It seemed he hadn’t told Mother anything.

Although I’d been told to eat lightly, the doctor had said I needed to eat well to recover from my illness.

Ignoring Mother’s instructions, I emptied my plate.

Then, I reached for the large meat dish in the center of the table, speared a hefty portion with my fork, and transferred it to my plate.

It wasn’t like I had anorexia or anything.

The only reason I’d struggled with eating before was the abundance of nauseating faces around me.

For the first time in a while, overeating felt enjoyable.

People often say that overeating to relieve stress leads to weight gain, but I needed to put on some weight.

Looking at my emaciated body in the mirror after taking off all my clothes left me feeling devastated.

I didn’t leave a single bite of the meat dish I had served myself.

Mother’s expression twisted slightly as she noticed.

“I told you to eat lightly, didn’t I?”

“I was hungry,” I replied, not in a timid voice but with a slightly defiant tone.

Everyone at the table turned to look at me in shock.

“And what will people think when they see your stomach bulging out at the ball tomorrow?”

“They might think I was rolling around with some man a few weeks ago, especially since all the windows are sealed shut.”

Mother’s face froze, her expression quickly shifting to one of anger.

“Ahem.”

It wasn’t a laugh—it was the sound of me stifling a cough.

But Mother clearly didn’t interpret it that way.

She glared at me with a face that looked as though she wanted to stab me with a knife.

“Come to my room after dinner….”

Realizing the misunderstanding was irreparable, I smiled brightly and responded, “No, I won’t,” followed by a mocking laugh.

This time, it was definitely a sneer.

When Fabian accused me earlier of mocking our family, I hadn’t understood what he meant.

I’d never done such a thing, after all.

But if even someone like Fabian, who barely paid me any attention, thought that, then perhaps everyone else believed the same.

The once cheerful dinner atmosphere grew icy.

Ellie and Daniel glared at me.

The other siblings seemed preoccupied with eating quickly so they could leave.

Would it have been different if Father were here?

Probably.

At least he claimed to love me and occasionally gave me gifts.

But he was always too busy with work to be around.

Ultimately, Mother was the one who ran the household.

If she was in a bad mood, the entire house was somber. If she was in a good mood, everyone enjoyed a harmonious day.

And when she was upset, venting her anger on me in the confines of my room usually improved things.

To keep my screams from being heard by neighbors or passersby, Mother had soundproofed the walls and doors with layers of padding.

I left the table and went to my room, shutting the door firmly behind me.

“Huff… huff… Achoo.”

I took deep breaths but ended up coughing.

Fortunately, there were only a few drops of blood this time.

My coughing didn’t usually escalate into a torrent of blood.

At most, a few drops would splatter here and there.

Was I supposed to take only one painkiller a day?

My throat still burned, so I retrieved another pill and swallowed it.

As a slight drowsiness overtook me, I lay down on the bed, only to realize it wasn’t true sleepiness—just the side effects of the medication.

I pulled out a notebook from the drawer and began furiously writing about Mother’s absurd face earlier when I had talked back.

If anyone found this, I’d probably get beaten even worse.

But I didn’t care.

If I’d already crossed the line by rebelling, she would inflict her so-called corrections on me regardless.

I should’ve defied her sooner.

If I’d known that the almighty Mother could make such a pathetic expression, I’d have acted this way much earlier.

I hoped everyone in the house would suffer indigestion from the tense atmosphere at dinner.

I didn’t want to see such a harmonious scene in front of me ever again.

I was family too, yet I was always left out.

I was your blood, too.

Why don’t you love me?

Why am I the only one you hate so much…?

But Mother was only strict because she cared, right?

No, you know that’s not true.

What kind of parent, one who loves their child, could make such an expression?

If I’d been a prince, I’d have been locked in a rice chest long ago.

The way she looked at me earlier wasn’t how a mother looks at her child.

It was how a slave owner looks at a slave begging for freedom.

I am not a slave.

Neither are you.

We could leave this place whenever we wanted.

You and I both could have escaped here long ago if we truly wanted to.

This is where we chose to stay.

Even now, if I broke the window, I could run away.

When Ellie asked me to deliver that letter to Ernst, I could’ve fled somewhere far away.

There were countless ways to escape.

But ultimately, you stayed because you wanted to, hurling complaints at Mother while indulging in your privilege.

Sure, I could run.

The newspapers would call it a noble lady’s escapade, and soon enough, the authorities would drag me back to the estate.

There are so few places for me to hide.

With this conspicuous dress, stark white hair, pale skin untouched by sunlight, and crimson eyes, how could I remain unnoticed?

Eventually, they’d catch me.

They’d scold me with something like Don’t run away again, you troublesome young lady.

Even if I were lucky enough to hide my identity and find work, I’d constantly struggle to conceal my appearance.

Escaping to another country wasn’t realistic either.

I’d never learned a foreign language.

How many albinos do you think exist in this world?

Even if I managed to run, prostitution would be the only option left.

No one else would hire someone without asking questions.

Unless… is there another ingenious idea you’ve thought of?

Then I could just die.

Like I once considered in that wardrobe.

But I want to live.

Unlike you, I’m not going to give up and grovel to that despicable woman, pretending she’s my mother.

If I could just erase the terrible people around me, the world would be beautiful.

When I look up at the sky, it’s clear and refreshing, without a speck of dust.

Sometimes, when I see birds flying, I think I’d like to fly too.

No, not as in jumping off to my death this time.

Even the nameless flowers blooming on the roadside and the fresh-smelling weeds are lovely.

They’re struggling to live, clawing their way out of the earth.

It’s strangely relatable—like me, somehow.

I also like the cat that lounges on the fence for a nap and meows when I pass by.

And sometimes, after a visit to the hospital, when I use the leftover money to buy a snack, that’s the best feeling.

It’s just cheap candy that the local kids eat, but it’s sweet and delicious.

The world is so beautiful—why would I want to die?

Yes, if only the people around me weren’t here….

Oh. That’s right.

No answer comes.

My blurred vision cleared suddenly.

Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, was Daniel, glaring at me.

“Mother was crying because you wouldn’t listen to her.”

“…Get lost. I don’t have the energy to talk to you.”

“What, did you decide overnight to go off the rails?”

“Ahem.”

I glared at Daniel, but a cough interrupted me.

Blood spattered out.

Fortunately, it was only a few drops.

Since my hand was covering my mouth, he wouldn’t know that blood had come out.

Casually wiping my lips, I addressed him.

“It’s bedtime. If you’re just here to spout nonsense, leave, Daniel.

If family is so important to you, why don’t you start by calling me sister for once?”

“I’ll call you sister when you start acting like one.”

“And my mother? My brother? Do they act like a mother and brother should?”

A mama’s boy and a mother who hates me.

“…….”

“I know you’ve been clinging to Mother’s apron strings for a long time, but how long will that last….

Ugh, forget it. I don’t care. Leave. I’m tired, and there’s a ball tomorrow.”

Daniel looked like he was about to say something but instead ground his teeth and stormed off.

I hope he trips on the stairs and gets hurt.

He’s family, so I can’t bring myself to wish for his death.

But calling this family at this point—what a joke.

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