Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 6: Illness

Had I been walking slowly for about an hour?

I stepped into the hospital.

The distinct smell of those dying wafted through the air.

The stench of rotting flesh, the metallic tang of blood, or perhaps the screams drifting faintly from the distant operating rooms.

It was a familiar feeling.

I wondered how different I really was from these patients, lying there as if waiting for the end, much like me during punishments in the discipline room.

At the reception desk, I quietly spoke.

“Emily Reichten. May I see the doctor?”

The woman at the desk glanced at my face and the clothes I was wearing before guiding me.

“…Ah, head to Room 2 on the third floor. Have a good day, miss.”

The moment I stepped outside, I became “Miss.”

A noble one at that.

And I was treated accordingly.

“You too.”

Struggling to maintain a calm expression, I climbed to the third floor.

It wasn’t particularly high, but I was already out of breath.

Still, I didn’t let out a single complaint.

Someone might hear, after all.

To others, I probably looked like nothing more than a dignified young lady.

Not someone in love, not someone embroiled in rumors, just a delicate girl who occasionally visited the hospital to pick up medicine.

Of course, that was only true outside.

At home, I was often told I didn’t know why I looked so ugly.

Dark and unpleasant, they’d say.

I approached Room 2 and knocked lightly. From inside, I heard the raspy voice of an elderly man saying, “Come in.”

Inside, an elderly doctor sat behind a sleek, modern desk, wearing a pristine white coat and holding a chart.

In these aspects, the world was oddly advanced.

It made me wonder what kind of world this really was.

Some parts were astonishingly developed, while others remained ridiculously backward.

“Do you need anything other than painkillers today, Miss?”

“When I cough, blood comes up. Is there any medicine that stops colds quickly?”

“…You’re coughing up blood?”

“No, not really. Just a little when I cough lightly….”

“That’s the problem, Miss.

Please wait here for a moment.”

“Ah, but I only have this much money….”

I showed him my coin purse, speaking pathetically.

But he seemed unbothered, scolding me as if to ask if money was the issue right now.

It was incredibly important.

No, it was beyond important—it was all I had.

I needed to get the painkillers and return to the estate as soon as possible.

The eldest son had told me to be back by noon.

If I were late, who knows what Mother would say.

Should I just run away?

With such a meager amount?

Even though I didn’t handle purchases myself and lacked a sense of everyday expenses, I knew this wasn’t even enough for a day.

Enduring beatings and abuse was still better than ending up homeless.

I wasn’t starving, and as long as I stepped outside, I was treated as a noblewoman. What reason did I have to leave?

Mother may be a little strict, but it’s all for my sake, after all.

After some time, the doctor returned with a peculiar instrument.

“Excuse me, but could you lift your head, Miss?”

I raised my head as instructed.

He stuck the strange tool into my nose and began twisting it furiously.

I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t stop myself from coughing.

Each cough tore through my throat, and I spat out a mouthful of blood.

The doctor, suspecting it might be an infectious disease, quickly covered his mouth and nose with a white cloth he retrieved from somewhere.

In such matters, this world was oddly advanced, yet I couldn’t understand why noble lords and ladies could still walk around freely.

It felt like the furious masses should storm in, slice off their heads, and carry them around on stakes.

I’d gladly join them.

At least I’d been fed while living this way.

If that’s considered such a great blessing, I suppose I should suffer alongside them.

The doctor left me there and walked off somewhere, holding that peculiar stick.

After about ten minutes, he returned, looking somewhat grim.

“…How long have you been coughing?”

“I don’t know.”

I hadn’t been coughing for years—it was just a cold that never really went away.

In summer, it would subside, and in winter, it would return.

The only difference these days was that I even coughed in the summer.

“If you’re lucky, you might survive.

Starting now, eat plenty and gain weight. With rest, your illness might eventually fade away.

If you carefully take in the necessary nutrients for at least a year and continue taking the prescribed medicine…”

Gain weight….

“Doctor. Would that actually cure me?”

How surprising.

From his expression, I thought for sure it was something terminal, like cancer, and that I’d waste away slowly until I died.

It wasn’t even an incurable disease, so why was he making that face?

I didn’t want to die either.

Though the phrase if you’re lucky, you might survive had already dampened my spirits.

If I’d been lucky, I wouldn’t have been born into this hellish family in the first place.

“…Yes.”

The doctor answered with a hint of certainty in his voice, looking straight into my eyes, slowly.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He just seemed angry.

“But I have no money.”

“Aren’t you a young lady from a distinguished family?

How could someone so noble not have a single penny to spare for their daughter!?”

The doctor raised his voice—not at me, but at the parents who had sent me here.

“I can’t even comprehend how a disease like poverty sickness, which only afflicts poor commoners or slum dwellers, could happen to someone like you…!”

Poverty sickness. That was the first time I’d heard of such a disease.

It must be unique to this world.

“Exactly. Enough with the noise. Just give me the painkillers.”

My tone was perhaps a bit too arrogant for addressing the doctor, but after all, he was a commoner.

He couldn’t scold me.

“…….”

I wondered what kind of expression I was making now.

I was hearing that I might die from this illness, yet…

Ordinarily, touching my face like this would seem strange, so I didn’t do it.

As always, my lips were fixed in a neatly maintained smile, and my expression hadn’t twisted.

Good. It seemed my face wasn’t one that would crumble over mere news like this.

I’d worked so hard to make it this way.

This iron mask, constructed over stiffened blood and peeling skin.

“…Visit once a week.

As for the cost, we can bill it to your future husband after you get married.”

The doctor removed his glasses, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache.

Marriage, huh.

There wasn’t anyone for me to marry, though.

Mother seemed determined to pair me with Ernst from next door, but Ernst loved another woman.

Someone like me would be fine staying as his friend.

A once-close childhood friend would suffice.

“When did you start caring so much?

Even when I came here covered in bruises, you’d just prescribe painkillers and ointments and send me on my way.”

Feeling a surge of emotion, I couldn’t help but sarcastically smirk and say something spiteful, though the doctor wasn’t at fault.

“Should I have delivered a grand lecture to your noble parents about how to properly raise their child, Miss?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Take your medicine and come back next week.

If you don’t, I’ll come to the estate myself.”

I nodded.

Not that he’d get past the gates if he came to the estate.

I was slightly surprised that someone cared enough about me to say such things.

And it wasn’t my family or the childhood friend living next door, who seemed utterly unaware of how I lived. It was just an old man at the hospital.

Well, calling him “just an old man” felt unfair since he was a doctor, but still.

Dragging my feet, I left the hospital.

“Ah-choo!”

Having no handkerchief, I turned to a nearby tree and coughed against it.

I felt sorry for the nameless tree, but since it would probably end up as paper someday, I thought of it as giving it early practice.

Hearing my raspy breathing and still managing to produce such nonsense thoughts meant I could live a little longer.

I considered wiping away the bloody sputum but decided the rain would wash it away eventually.

My throat burned painfully.

My head throbbed.

With trembling hands, I opened the medicine packet the doctor had given me and swallowed what seemed to be a painkiller.

Even without water, a single pill went down just fine.

After taking a deep breath, I began heading home.

My steps felt heavy.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t want to go back or because I was unwell.

After walking for quite some time, I reached the estate’s front gate.

The eldest son was waiting there, arms crossed, his expression full of displeasure.

“You’re a bit late.”

“…Sorry. I’ll just drop off the medicine and come right back.”

I heard the sound of him clicking his tongue behind me as I hurriedly went to my room to leave the medicine and came back down.

“Don’t act like you do at home when you’re in front of Karel.”

I nodded.

I didn’t really understand what he meant, but I nodded anyway.

What did he mean by not acting like I do at home?

Was he telling me not to grovel as I did in front of Mother?

Or not to appear lost in depression as I did while locked in my room?

I didn’t know.

I only nodded to appease him.

I didn’t mention that I’d been told I was dying.

Nor did I mention that there was a chance I might survive.

Whatever I said, it would be unpleasant for him, and for Mother, too.

Still, if I continued living like this, I would die, just as the doctor had said. Was there any point in living like this?

I mulled over it for a while.

I didn’t want to die.

But I didn’t desperately want to live, either.

Caught in these conflicting feelings, I looked up at the sky.

A bird was flying.

For a brief moment, I wished I could soar through that vast, open sky.