Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 42: Living

Aria had loaded me into the carriage.

It felt a lot like being kidnapped, but apparently, she’d sent someone to the ballroom where my family was and obtained permission beforehand—with a little compensation to sweeten the deal.

Maybe she slipped a gemstone into the letter. Permission, huh. I’m not sure what to make of it. Am I some kind of object?

Like one of those things that, if you send enough money along with it, no one bothers worrying about where it ends up.

I closed my eyes. Still, it felt like something lingered in front of me.

Just earlier, dancing on the railing had been so much fun. Maybe the rush of excitement had loosened me up.

My leg throbbed relentlessly—does the word “throb” even do justice to this kind of pain? Still, the ache seemed to bring a strange drowsiness with it.

“…Why did you fall?”

Why did I? At first, I hadn’t even thought about falling. I’d been more focused on pushing Ellie off.

But, amusingly, I lacked the strength.

I’m not talking about background, status, or money—I mean actual physical strength.

It’s so ridiculous, it’s laughable.

I’d called her out intending to shove her, but when I couldn’t muster the strength, I ended up falling myself. What a mess.

Even the most uninspired clown couldn’t stage such a boring farce.

Maybe I should get myself a gun.

Aria’s gaze was starting to sting, so I mumbled a half-hearted excuse.

“Well, maybe Ellie pushed me. Probably.”

Hearing that, Aria began pressing me for an explanation.

Too tired to deal with it, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an ornate ceiling.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, but it certainly wasn’t my dreary room.

The ceiling was dome-shaped, decorated with gleaming glass and various embellishments. Honestly, this wasn’t just a mansion—it was closer to a palace.

I turned my head toward the window. It was still dark outside.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice said.

I turned toward the sound and saw a man in a uniform, reading a book.

“You’re lucky you weren’t seriously injured. We’ve applied ointment to the swelling. 

As long as you keep the splint on and avoid putting pressure on your leg, you’ll recover in no time.”

Recover in no time, huh. Even illnesses don’t heal that quickly.

I felt a cough coming and held my breath to stifle it.

I was annoyed to feel a nosebleed trickling down instead.

The man offered me a handkerchief, but I ignored him and took one out of my pocket to wipe the blood away.

Aria had brought me here.

What was she doing now, leaving me in this room?

“Where’s Aria?” I asked.

“She’s likely resting in her room,” the man replied.

For some reason, the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

I kept wiping at it, but soon my handkerchief was stained entirely red.

Seeing this, the man took my handkerchief and handed me a clean white one from his pocket.

“I’ll call for the young lady. She was terribly worried about you.”

“…Don’t bother.”

“Regrettably, I am employed by the Eisenach family.”

What was that supposed to mean? Doctors were supposed to bow their heads, take their pay, and follow orders, weren’t they?

Oh, right. I don’t have money.

Even a back-alley prostitute could afford a meal, yet here I was.

The man left, and shortly after, Aria entered the room in her nightclothes.

Her face was slightly tear-streaked. Since when were we close enough to worry about each other like this?

“I heard your leg’s broken,” she said.

“It’s not too painful. I’m fine.”

“…You can’t be fine if it’s broken.”

When you’re hit, abused, or lightly waterboarded on a daily basis… Well, it still hurts.

You just get better at enduring it.

Or maybe you just get used to it.

“Has anyone in my family come looking for me?” I asked.

Aria’s expression turned slightly sorrowful as she shook her head.

“Not even one person?”

She nodded—only one.

Ellie, of course.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”

Watching her cry had felt strangely satisfying, but now a faint sense of guilt was starting to creep in.

Honestly, it wasn’t guilt. Ellie only got upset—she didn’t lose anything.

I kept muttering to myself.

My throat felt a bit dry.

I made a request to Aria.

“Tea, coffee, water, alcohol—anything’s fine. Could you bring me something to drink?”

No one had died, and no one had killed anyone.

In about three days, people would laugh at this ridiculous, pathetic farce and move on.

At most, it’d become the kind of story people tease Ellie with now and then.

Why not? After all, nobody died.

There wasn’t anyone to complain about Ellie either.

Mother would likely have tried to cover up the whole thing, regardless of whether Ellie pushed me or I jumped myself. Or maybe she wouldn’t even want to know.

For her, it would just be a case of Emily daring to upset Ellie.

Anyway, the people at the ballroom wouldn’t know what happened.

Ellie’s crying and my pathetic fall would’ve been drowned out by clumsy waltzing.

Nothing worth telling others about, really.

Sure, it ended boringly and insignificantly, but… I hoped it wasn’t so boring and insignificant for Ellie.

If it was, then what was the point of my dramatic leap?

If Ellie was truly shaken, then breaking both legs was a price I could live with.

Aria eventually brought me a cup of coffee.

When I asked why she hadn’t had a servant do it, she said it was too early to wake them.

She’d also brought sugar, though I wasn’t sure why. Pinching a bit with my fingers, I popped it into my mouth before slowly sipping the warm coffee.

Aria then asked me a question.

“Uh… this might be a little impolite, but…”

“Say it. Since when has politeness been a thing between us?”

At that, Aria let out a dry chuckle.

“…Did your sister really push you?”

“What do you think?”

“…What do I think?”

She looked confused.

Honestly, this was the kind of moment where picking a villain and throwing stones at them felt right.

But I didn’t want to lie to someone offering me help or pity.

“Do you think Ellie pushed me? Or that I jumped myself?”

“You could’ve died, you know. Why would you—ah.”

“Go on, say it. No, wait. What do people think?”

“…Most people think your sister pushed you. I thought so too, up until a moment ago.”

“Then Ellie pushed me. How could someone as frail as me jump from such a high place?”

“…”

The look in Aria’s eyes shifted slowly, moving from pity to something else.

I didn’t know what that something was, but whatever it was, it made me uncomfortable.

“And when I return home, I’ll be the strange one. Mother will lock me in the punishment room, whip me a bit, and I’ll go back to being a normal child.”

Aria opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, repeating the action as if unsure what to say.

“Suddenly feeling like the person you wanted to protect and care for is a bit… off?”

“Why on earth…?”

“I told you, you wouldn’t understand. Last time, too—you practically forced me to accept your help.”

She even took my medicine away back then.

I drained the coffee in front of me. It jolted me awake, though not in a pleasant way.

“…You said you’d help if I was struggling. But why would you do things like this when you’re sick? Is it because you hate your sister?”

“Hate her? No, it’s not hate. It’s just dislike.

Honestly, she’s like a bug. Watching her crawl around is gross. Ahaha.”

“That’s not something you say about family…”

“What would you know? That’s not family.

If that’s family, then I suppose all of Don Corleone’s associates who kissed his hand would be considered friends.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“The Godfather. Haven’t seen it? Well, no surprise there. Someone who skips out on cake because it’s too expensive probably wouldn’t spend much on cultural experiences either.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

This wasn’t about what I should or shouldn’t say. Bringing up a family in front of me in the first place was… No, wait. That would make it seem like I’m venting, wouldn’t it? Maybe I am venting.

Not that it matters. If I want to live as I please, venting should be fine too.

“I don’t need help, nor pity. Not that I find it unpleasant, but I just don’t need it. I can do anything on my own.”

Except running.

I can barely run for ten seconds before I’m gasping for air like I’m about to die.

Physical activity isn’t my strong suit, but falling off railings? That I’m good at.

Not many people can say they’ve done that, so I’d call it a specialized skill.

“…You’re too sick to move properly. You realize you’re acting like a madwoman, don’t you?”

At her words, I inhaled deeply. And then, very slowly, I exhaled.