Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 26: Cake

I stuffed my mouth with a dry, sponge-like lump of carbohydrates that this world calls cake, complaining as I chewed. It felt like mashed boiled eggs with whipped cream smeared on top.

Even I could bake something better than this.

Really.

“Whipped cream, strawberries, sugar smeared all over some nameless decoration, or perhaps a mix of fruits. Not even a cheesecake? Is it because it’s too plain?”

I’m quite fond of New York cheesecake, after all.

Not that I’ve ever been to New York.

If I hadn’t taken my medication beforehand, eating this would’ve given me chest pain, leaving me clutching my heart as I died right there.

“You must have liked cake.”

“I used to wonder why anyone would waste money on something like that.”

Sure, it felt like a waste of money, but I did like cake.

Oddly enough, eating cheesecake used to make me feel so good that I wouldn’t even need a cigarette that day.

Now, there’s no cake, no cigarettes.

Alcohol? Not even worth dreaming about.

“That’s probably why you seemed out of touch, like someone missing common sense. Coming from a world where everything was abundant, and yet you didn’t enjoy dessert just because you were a little short on money.”

“Instead, I’m indulging here, aren’t I?”

“On flawed, trashy food, every single one of them.”

No need to keep talking about the horrible cake.

Apart from its decent appearance, it was dreadful in every other way.

A dessert shop, my foot.

It was probably just a place to display pretty-looking models and chat.

I guess I had my hopes up too high.

“Shall we talk about the past a little? Where did you live?”

Aria frowned slightly and hesitated.

“A city? Or should I name a country?”

“If you don’t want to say, you don’t have to. I don’t care if you were a communist or someone who used to dig dirt for food in Africa.”

“…Then where are you from?”

“Who knows?”

“Then I won’t say either.”

“What does it matter? You probably lived in some urban area, got hit by a car, and died. You woke up in this world—that’s it. No need to explain it, right?”

“…Did you bring me here?”

“Unfortunately, I was dragged here too.”

While reading your story, of all things.

And now, you’re looking at me like it’s all my fault. That look makes me sad.

Aria stared at me with murderous eyes.

She must have been born with a face that everyone would adore, showered with love from the moment she arrived in this world. So why did she look at me like that?

When I was born, my father had screamed at my mother, trying to hit me with his fists. 

The person who helped deliver me had taken the blows in my place.

I don’t know about my past life, but at least in this one, I had never once experienced being welcomed.

“When I was young, people used to call me a prodigy. Later, I just studied enough to get into college and started working. That’s all there is to it. So could you stop looking at me like that?”

I took a breath before continuing.

“To put it simply, I lived well and ate well. Everyone loved you, didn’t they? Except for a few jealous women, of course. Oh, but don’t worry—I’m not jealous. I’m just envious.”

If this spiraled into more negative emotions, it’d go beyond envy.

A life where you’re born looking just like your family, loved by everyone around you.

And yet, why do you look like a beaten slave who didn’t meet their quota?

In some places, they even cut off their hands, you know.

Was it really necessary to bring that part of the story here?

No matter how horrific a plantation is, cutting off hands is beyond extreme.

That kind of place probably doesn’t exist anywhere but your world.

“…What’s your problem, anyway?”

“Everything. Everything is the problem.

And that’s why you sought me out, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry. It’s just meaningless words spilling out because I’m irritated.”

Just like how people don’t need a big reason to dislike someone.

My mother probably didn’t have some grand reason to hate me. She likely just hated me for being me.

At first, it might have just been resentment, but over time, that resentment must have piled up, turning into anger or even hatred.

That kind of thing builds up when you see someone day after day.

I’m probably the biggest stain on your life.

Even though we’re from the same world, I’m the pathetic woman who stands out for all the wrong reasons.

Seriously, doesn’t it annoy you just looking at me?

All you had to do was be born to the right parents, and even that, I couldn’t manage. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?

That’s why you’re holding onto me, why you sought me out.

Someone like me has no place around Aria, but here I am.

Right in front of her eyes.

I’m not paying for the cake.

Calling this garbage something edible is no kind of hospitality.

“Aria, are you happy?”

“…I don’t know.”

“You were born so beautiful that everyone praises your looks, singing about how lovely you are.

Everyone says they love you.”

I’ve never heard anyone say they loved me.

Not even my father.

Not anyone.

There’s only one person in this world who loves me.

I love myself.

So there’s only one.

No matter how much I deny it or shove my flaws to the forefront of my mind.

Even if I feel like I’m dying of illness.

Even if my throat burns every day, and my body is drained of all strength.

Even when you feel like resenting the very people in front of you who are loved by everyone else, you have no choice but to push it down.

I gently put the cake aside.

It was so cloyingly sweet that I couldn’t stomach it.

Even pig feed would have been prepared with more care than this. What idiot thought dumping sugar on something made it a dessert?

I’d rather eat the dry cookies served at a ball, accompanied by tea so stale it had lost all its fragrance.

At home, at least I didn’t have to deal with this nonsense.

No one would ever serve me expensive desserts there, and at best, I might eat some fresh fruit.

“And what about you?”

“I can say that I’m happy even now. The world we live in is so beautiful.”

“You were just saying all sorts of things about wanting to die, and now this?”

People excluded, of course.

Oh, and I’m excluded too.

I don’t think my family treats me like a person anyway. More like a pet slave.

Though I suppose it’s a relief I’m not a sex slave—ha-ha.

Aria’s expression hardened.

“Smile, it’s a joke.”

“…That didn’t sound like just a joke.”

“That’s why I said to smile. What else can you do?

It’s not like I was born in a place like you were.”

At this point, what’s the point of caring?

Even saying this much, I doubt she’d understand.

And there was no reason to explain it.

In the end, the only thing I hate is people.

Everything about the people who live in this world—their clothes, food, thoughts, books, teachings—everything feels like a mismatched patchwork, full of dissonance.

Maybe it’s because I have nothing.

Just seeing a stray cat, eating some tasty fruit, wandering through the garden in front of my house to see the flowers I worked hard to grow, or gazing at the night sky—those things make me happy.

“…That’s not really happiness. That’s just small, everyday things.”

“Maybe it’s everyday life for you. Even someone loving you is probably just routine.”

Maybe I wanted to mock the tasteless cake.

I poured the cold tea over the cake plate.

But to me, those are huge things.

Maybe they’re nothing to you, but they mean a lot to me.

Life’s easy for you, isn’t it?

When a moment of silence fell, I don’t know why, but I called over a waitress dressed in a maid uniform. I asked her to take away the cake and bring me a cup of coffee without sugar.

The waitress frowned when she saw the ruined cake but, after glancing at us, seemed to decide it wasn’t worth arguing. She obediently took the plate away.

Everything flows the way you want it to. Even if you’re high-ranking, it’s just a stepping stone to something higher.

It must all look insignificant to you. Doesn’t everyone seem like a background character? Including me.

“I’ve never thought that. But you must have.”

I always do.

If I didn’t think that way, I feel like I’d go crazy.

If those people really had ill intent toward me, wouldn’t that be a sad story?

“What do you mean, ‘killing you’?”

“Who knows. Doesn’t the bruises all over my body or the blood I secretly cough up seem like signs I’m dying?”

“…….”

“Anyway, my point is simple.”

I lowered my voice as I spoke to Aria.

“Save me.”

She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, her eyes filled with confusion.

“…Even if I wanted to save you, what am I supposed to do? And why me, of all people? Ernst is there too.”

He’s just my friend. A very close friend.

I don’t want to lose the only friend I have by asking for something like this.

I’m a loner. I have no one else.

“So what do you want me to do?”

Just take me out like this once a week.

Instead of this trashy dessert, let’s have some decent tea.

And spend the remaining time going to the hospital.

“…I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“If it were you, and someone who came from the same place suddenly appeared and asked you to save them, what would you feel?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never experienced it.”

“…….”

In the end, I walked out.

The coffee wasn’t good either.

After parting ways with Aria, I went to the hospital, got my medication, and returned to the mansion.

The house was silent, everyone seemingly shut in their rooms, and I felt content.

I set the bag of medicine in my room and decided to wash up. But as I stepped in, I found Fabian sitting inside.

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