Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 34: Than Today

The passionate outburst earlier felt unlike me.

If venting my emotions could solve anything, then the day Mother destroyed all my instruments, when I screamed and yelled at her, should have fixed everything.

But it didn’t.

Relying on others is pointless. It’s as useless as relying on myself.

Nothing gets resolved, and all that lingers is a suffocating sadness.

Always. It’s always been this way.

I wasn’t like this in the beginning.

When I first became Emily, I tried to adapt, to improve my circumstances.

And at first, it worked.

Emily had given up on reaching out to others, but I hadn’t.

I approached the other children, played games, and built bonds.

Sometimes, I invited them to the music room and taught them how to play, showing them songs they hadn’t heard before.

But it didn’t take long to realize why Emily had failed.

It wasn’t her fault.

It was Mother who made me this way.

The room once filled with countless melodies in my mind turned into a torture chamber echoing my screams.

The strings I prepared to replace broken violin cords became whips, their vibrations replaced by searing pain.

My most cherished things had become the tools of my suffering.

That’s why I say I’m “sad.”

I could use words like “hellish,” “suicidal,” or “horrible,” but I prefer the softer phrasing.

Saying such things aloud or writing them down makes them feel far too real.

After Daniel left, I started gathering the torn pages scattered across the floor but gave up halfway, tossing them into a corner instead.

The room’s too small for them to go far, anyway.

I need something to hold on to.

Someone to lean on.

Lying here on this hard bed, staring at the ceiling, not even able to breathe fresh air—that’s too cruel.

“…Hahk, ugh.”

Once again, blood gushed from my mouth.

Good thing I didn’t clean up the scattered papers; the blood splattering on the floor wouldn’t ruin anything important.

“Kuhh, hack! Agh… ah, uh, hhrrk…”

The coughing wouldn’t stop, and before long, it turned into retching.

Between the coughs, I spat the pooling blood into a handkerchief and swallowed another dose of medicine from the pouch on my desk.

“…Hah, ugh. Ahhh…”

After a while, the coughing subsided.

The medicine worked, as it always did.

They told me I’d get better eventually—if I ate and took my medicine, I’d recover.

But it’s been a year, and I haven’t.

If this goes on and I’m still alive, I’ll find a gun on the black market and bring it to that old doctor.

Am I pitiful?

Am I wretched?

Am I unhappy?

I am, aren’t I?

But to those around me, I must look like the most pathetic one of all.

And that truth stings.

I hate it because it’s probably true.

When Ernst offered his help, I should have nodded, feeling grateful and accepting it wholeheartedly.

How absurd of a minor character like me to even think of refusing.

My head is always so full of thoughts, so loud and cluttered that they stop me from even sleeping.

I hate it.

I just want to be free of all this, to live simply and happily, without being burdened by endless worries.

If only I didn’t know that others were living better lives.

If only I didn’t know Aria was from the same world as me.

If only my mind were blissfully empty, like a fool’s.

I know these “if onlys” are pointless.

But no matter how hard I try, these thoughts cling to me like a second skin.

When life feels like it has no value, people turn to death.

That’s the truth.

The word “truth” sounds heavy, but all it means is something universal and undeniable.

And ever since the day Mother destroyed all my instruments, I’ve been seriously contemplating that truth.

If anything, the fact that Ernst and Aria reached out to help has made it worse.

This isn’t about whether I deserve their help.

It’s about the fact that I can’t do anything on my own.

I can’t escape this situation, even though a life of shame as a courtesan might still be better than this.

I just sit here, useless, like an idiot.

Yes. That’s the word for me. An idiot.

The self-loathing feels… almost exhilarating.

It paints me as a tragic figure, helpless and pitiful.

And yet, if someone dared pity me, I’d lash out at them.

Didn’t I say I needed something to cling to?

Compelled, I stood up and grabbed the pouch of medicine from the desk.

The herbal smell of the old doctor’s concoction filled my senses as I downed another dose.

For a brief moment, the room spun, and the oppressive sadness lifted.

For the first time in what felt like hours, my head filled with lighter thoughts.

The weight of everything felt unbearable, but I convinced myself to lie back down on the hard bed.

Images and memories flitted through my mind—the stray cat perched on a roadside wall, the fragrant shortcut paths, wildflowers without names, the soft bark of the street trees, Ernst’s promise to help, and Aria, who seemed to care, coming from the same place as me.

As these thoughts surfaced, it was as if I could see them right before my eyes.

So, that’s it.

This world… it’s all so incomplete.

The music, the people, the way of life—everything here feels half-hearted, diluted.

Even the medicine… This isn’t just regular medicine. It must be something else—maybe a drug.

But it doesn’t matter.

For now, I felt good.

I unwound the bandages wrapped around my arms, the distinct herbal scent rising from the faintly damp fabric.

Rin had warned me not to touch my wounds, but who was Rin to dictate what I should do?

I reached for the pen Father had either gifted me or simply handed down, and without hesitation, I began scratching the torn skin of my arm with its tip.

From elbow to wrist, I dragged the pen, carving lines as if cutting paper.

The soft scratching noise resonated faintly, almost soothing.

Perhaps it was the herbs numbing me, but all I felt was a ticklish sensation.

The wounds didn’t gush blood dramatically—most were old injuries reopened, trickling faint streams like warm water over my skin.

The red rivulets fell onto the mess of torn notes and scattered papers, leaving faint trails.

Would ink seep into my body if I pressed hard enough?

Probably not, right? It’s just the surface.

As long as no one sees, it doesn’t matter what thoughts run through my head or what emotions I feel.

Smile.

Stay polite.

Follow the manners Mother taught me.

That way, nothing bad happens.

And if something does go wrong, it’s always my fault, not anyone else’s.

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache.

The bedsheets and the floor were stained with dried, brownish blood.

It should’ve been alarming, but the fact that it had dried was oddly comforting.

I couldn’t remember much.

Daniel had been here, shouting, and then… I had sat on the bed and fallen asleep?

“Ah, Miss!”

Rin’s frantic knocking broke my hazy thoughts.

I stayed silent, unsure how to answer, but the door swung open anyway.

I instinctively pulled the covers over my unbandaged arm as Rin stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the metallic scent.

“I smelled blood and feared the worst,” she said, her face twisting in discomfort as she scanned the room.

Her gaze fell to the stained floor.

“What… what is all this?”

“Rin, leave.”

“But, Miss, there’s blood everywhere—”

“Leave,” I snapped, my voice sharp.

She bit her lip, hesitating. Then, without a word, she pulled back the covers.

Her eyes fell on my arm, raw and mangled.

She didn’t scold me, nor did she scream.

Instead, there was only fear—fear for me.

Silently, she fetched the bandages and medicine from the desk and returned with a damp cloth from the bathroom.

She cleaned the wounds carefully, applied the ointment, and began wrapping my arm with fresh bandages.

“Rin,” I said, breaking the tense silence.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Are you happy?”

She paused, her hands trembling slightly as they secured the final wrap.

Instead of answering, she left me with a quiet plea.

“If you’re going to ask questions like that, please don’t do things like this.”

“I’ll try. Thank you.

Oh, and don’t tell Mother.”

“She wouldn’t care even if I did… But yes, I won’t.”

“Like I said before…”

“A servant should listen and obey without question?” Rin interrupted. “But Miss, who could see your arm and do nothing?”

Fair enough.

I was even startled when I woke up to this.

After an awkward silence, Rin brought me breakfast and left the room.

I spent a long while staring at the fresh bandages on my arm.

Will tomorrow be better than today?

I don’t know.

I can only hope it will be.

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