Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 33: “Tomorrow.”

After wiping my skin with cloth, applying the medicine, and rewrapping the bandages, I examined myself.

The torn flesh looked grotesque.

Still, with the medicine applied, it should heal within a week.

Of course, the scars would remain.

Scars always remain.

There were scars from when I tried to open the window, from my conversations with Emily, from resting on the bed, and from the times people carved into me with their words and actions.

At least now, the unsightly, wounded skin was neatly hidden beneath the clean white bandages.

Daniel was probably still standing beyond the door, but I didn’t bother calling out.

Honestly, I wished he’d just leave on his own.

Even the thought of seeing his face made me want to scream.

After about ten minutes, there was a knock.

Daniel actually knocked this time, though he still didn’t wait for permission before entering.

“First time knocking, huh? Must be some kind of special day.”

“…Ellie looked terrified during dinner. What did you do to her?”

“What did I do? How would I know? Ha.”

The room was still littered with the shredded pages of my notebook.

Though I hadn’t turned on the lights, I knew the scraps of paper were everywhere.

I reached for the floor and grabbed one at random, crumpling it into a ball before tossing it at Daniel’s face.

It was just paper; all he did was flinch and close his eyes briefly.

Daniel, why do you care?

No matter what happens, don’t bother coming here again.

Whether Ellie is scared, or Fabian and I get into a screaming match, it’s none of your concern.

It never was, anyway. Why start now?

“Does it make you angry to hear something like that from someone as pathetic as me—someone who’s too disgraceful to even call ‘sister’?”

“Are you mocking me?”

His voice dropped, attempting intimidation, but it wasn’t effective.

What was he going to do, punch me? I doubted even he could kill me with a single blow.

“No, seriously, I’m asking.”

“….”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be something when you grew up?

A soldier, right? Some high-ranking officer in the army?”

Daniel didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened.

“Wow, sounds perfect for you. Really suits your temperament.”

Mother always called Daniel “hot-headed,” but that wasn’t accurate.

It wasn’t temper—it was entitlement.

Born a noble, he grew up surrounded by so much beneath him that everything appeared trivial.

He was always polite to those above him but treated everyone below with disdain. People like me.

“I can already picture it. Poor, stinking peasants protesting in the streets, and you trampling them under your horse’s hooves or bashing their heads in with a baton.

In wartime, you’d send trembling conscripts to die on the front lines while you stood safely behind, barking orders. Sounds fun, right?”

Daniel had always admired soldiers, even before he started looking down on me.

He called them “impressive.”

To me, they were oppressive, authoritative, violent men.

Sure, some played the role of gentlemen well enough at balls, but I never liked them.

All they did was flaunt their rank and tell “heroic” stories of slaughtering “savages.”

If Mother ever sold me to a soldier, I wouldn’t even last the night.

I’d find the tallest building and jump.

Maybe I’d even leave a note accusing the family of plotting a coup, with me as the first sacrifice.

It would sound like the ramblings of a lunatic, but at least it’d cause a stir.

“And if the recruits step out of line, you can straighten them out by putting a bullet in their heads. That’s what you’d enjoy, isn’t it?”

“You are mocking me!”

He growled, fists clenched so tightly they trembled.

His face twisted with emotion, unable to contain the storm inside.

“Look at you, all ready to throw a punch. See? It suits you perfectly.”

When did we start being like this?

Daniel and I used to climb trees together, sing songs, and I’d play him whatever music he requested.

It must have started after Mother destroyed my instruments. About a month later, he began treating me this way.

“Ellie probably learned this behavior from you. Otherwise, how could that sweet, innocent girl have done this to me?”

Daniel said nothing.

He was like the others—absorbing Mother’s lessons on hating me and excelling at them.

Even Ellie, for all her “cuteness,” was clearly a little slow.

“You wanted to know what happened, didn’t you?”

I rolled up my sleeve and unwrapped the bandages.

The medicine clung to the fabric, sticky and damp, and pulling it off stung slightly.

“You know Ernst from next door, right?”

“…Yeah. What about him?”

“We’re friends, and Ellie decided to treat me the way you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She ignored me, insulted me, acted like she’d be better off if I were dead, and showed zero respect. Sound familiar?”

“….”

“So, our voices got raised.

All because I hugged a friend.

Even if Ernst did like me, what business is that of hers—or yours?”

I peeled the bandage off my head.

The dried blood had stuck to the cloth, pulling slightly at my skin, leaving what felt like little stitches behind.

“Then Ellie threw a cup at me. Or was it a teapot? Either way, it was glass.

It shattered, I got hurt, and that’s all there is to it.”

Whether Daniel was shocked or not didn’t matter to me.

It was as significant as a passing dog reacting to an injured insect. Well, maybe a bit more amusing—seeing a dog startled by a bug would be pretty funny.

“Honestly, Ellie’s too valuable to sell to Ernst.”

Our family’s finest product, crafted with such care and effort.

Sell someone like me—damaged goods with a “childhood friend” title—to Ernst, and reserve Ellie for someone far higher up the chain, as someone’s mistress. Isn’t that right?”

“…You’re talking about marriage like it’s just a business transaction.”

“Because it is. It’s selling, so it’s basically just commerce.

Don’t you think so?”

“Mother’s going to find the best match she can. What’s so wrong abou—”

“That’s what’s wrong!”

My shout interrupted him, laced with profanity, and Daniel seemed startled.

He wasn’t used to seeing me lose control like this. Sarcasm, sure. Snide remarks, absolutely. But never raw emotion.

You get to choose, don’t you?

You could pick up some tramp from the slums, find a passable lady at a ball, or even, one day, betrothed yourself to some much younger girl when you’re in a position of power.

You have so many options, Daniel.

This—this was all I had.

No power to throw punches, no strength to fight back.

All I could do was yell, pout, sneer, and twist my face in bitterness.

But what about me?

I don’t get to choose anything!

I’m stuck with whatever Mother, Father, you, Fabian, and everyone else decide for me.

Good, stable young men, you all say—bullshit.

And don’t even get me started on Ellie.

Even you. Goddammit, even you, standing here like some judgmental prick.

What is this? I listen to all this nonsense, and then what? It just ends here?

When Ernst was around, at least, it felt bearable.

He made me feel like I had a friend.

Someone who worried about me, even if it wasn’t always perfect.

Even with Aria, there were moments of relief.

Sure, when she spread word of my illness without permission, I wanted to smash her face in, but talking with her brought back flashes of my old self.

The person I was before becoming Emily wasn’t like this.

I wasn’t this pathetic.

I had a home. Not a grand estate, but a place I called my own.

No car, but taxis worked just fine.

I’d graduated from a decent university, and though the job was soul-crushing, I managed to find one.

I could see a future then.

Even if I didn’t have a lot of friends, I wasn’t completely alone.

And back then, I believed tomorrow could be better than today.

Here, though? I can’t see any future at all.

No, that’s a lie.

I can see it too clearly.

That’s the real problem.

Mother will force me into a marriage I don’t want.

Then, I’ll have kids I never asked for, sink into depression, and die.

It’s practically set in stone. That’s my life.

Somewhere along the way, my anger at Daniel turned inward, becoming bitter self-loathing.

Because who was I kidding?

I wasn’t the kind of person who could lash out at anyone and make it stick.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to live in this place.

I want to escape—to go somewhere free, somewhere happy, where I can see only good things and live peacefully.

But what can I even do?

Nothing. I can’t do anything.

I know that.

Even if I ran to the backstreets, it’s not like some new life would suddenly appear for me.

I’ve never even done hard labor.

Endurance alone doesn’t grant capability.

“And now, when I’m at my lowest, the most detestable person is right in front of me, making it all worse. Get out, Daniel.”

It took him a while—far too long, nearly 30 minutes—but eventually, he left.