Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 57: Love

Sitting in front of me, I see people trembling with fear.

“Shall we share a little story from the past?”

The blood splattered earlier from Daniel was itching now, making the spot uncomfortably tingly.

Yawning, I scratched my head with the muzzle of a gun.

I felt so tired.

“Hmm, it should be around here somewhere.”

I found a box.

Inside it were ropes, whips, metal skewers, scissors, candles, matches…

Basically, a lot of miscellaneous items.

“S-Sis, I… it hurts so much…”

“Endure it.”

Ellie whimpered behind me.

“If it’s really too hard, I could help.”

At those words, Ellie shut her mouth.

Anyway, most things in the box didn’t seem necessary.

The metal skewer and whip should suffice.

The scissors, though… They looked a bit too dirty.

Ah, well, I don’t have to handle it myself.

For now, I tossed the rope to Mother.

She caught it and looked at me with questioning eyes.

“Tie Fabian’s wrists with that, please.

Just like you tied mine before. Remember? When I was locked in the wardrobe, my wrists were so tightly bound it was unbearable.”

There was only one rope.

If someone had to be tied, it made sense to bind the younger Fabian.

But seeing how loosely she tied it, I was annoyed.

Gripping the trembling gun with both hands, I aimed at Fabian’s hand and pulled the trigger.

Ellie shrieked again, screaming like a skunk releasing its stench, while Father collapsed, trembling, and placed his hands on the floor.

The more I shot, the more it felt like my shooting skills were improving.

“I told you to tie it tightly.”

I wondered when the authorities might show up.

At this hour, they were probably all asleep.

Even if someone came, it would be morning by then.

The night was long.

Mother, clutching her trembling hands, eventually steadied her breathing, picked up the rope, and began tying Fabian’s wrists.

This time, tightly—just like she had done to me.

Soon, his fingertips began turning slightly purple.

If they had to be cut off later, well, so be it.

“Fabian, didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble tonight? What am I supposed to do about this?”

“…Was this your intention all along?”

“Yes, exactly this.”

“And when I return, what will become of me?”

“You’ll be someone lucky enough to survive. You’d even inherit the family estate. It’s a shame, really.”

“You think doing this will get you even a penny of the inheritance?”

“This isn’t about money.

If I cared so much about money, I would’ve left ages ago, like Mother, selling my body on the streets.”

Earlier, calling her a prostitute made her shake with anger. Now, she had no words.

“Fabian, you know what kind of person I’ve been in this house.

Hell, they even tried to sell me off to some pathetic fool.”

“Then why not just ask that neighbor boy for help…?”

“Why should I? From the start, I’ve never been anyone’s property.

Look at me now. I’m standing on my own two feet, firmly planted on the ground.

I can go anywhere, do anything.”

I was never Ernst’s property.

Getting closer to him was one thing, but I never wanted to belong to anyone.

Likewise, I never wanted to own anyone either.

That’s why I despised servants.

Slaves, employers—all of it. I hated it all.

I wished they’d all just disappear.

If someone paid me fairly for my work, maybe I’d reconsider, but I still didn’t think being a servant suited me.

And if I were to marry someone other than Ernst, I’d just become a mere ornament.

A decorative jewel for a man to use when he felt like it, dressing me up in fine clothes and parading me at events.

“What I’d like to see is the face of that bastard who bought me with such a hefty price.

After forking over all that money, how would he feel seeing this mess, huh?”

“…”

“Mother, cut it with this.”

“…What, what exactly do you mean?”

“Anything. As long as I’m satisfied, I’ll spare everyone.

If that doesn’t spark your motivation, I can even help by letting you blow my head off as a reward.”

I tossed the scissors.

Mother stared at them for a long moment before picking them up with trembling hands.

“Come to think of it, Ellie has said some truly cruel things to me.”

I glanced at Mother and smirked faintly as I spoke.

Her response was simple.

“N-No. Not my daughter. My daughter is off-limits…”

“But your son is okay?”

“…Ah.”

Mother’s hesitance made me take action, aiming at Fabian’s leg this time and pulling the trigger.

With his wrists bound, he struggled and flailed but couldn’t avoid it.

It only hit his foot—surely not too painful.

Mother wiped her dry face with her hands before approaching Ellie.

What followed was a pathetic comedy.

The lines were so awful, I thought I’d go insane.

Don’t, Mom. “Daughter, we have no choice if we want to survive,” she pleaded.

“Sis, please save me! I’m sorry!” Ellie begged.

“Ellie, stay still. If you’re the only one to make a sacrifice, your brother, yourself, and your mother and father can all live,” said Mother.

“No! Don’t do this!”

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been raising you all this time? Can’t you even do this much when our lives are at stake?”

A scream followed: “Aaaaah! Don’t, don’t!”

The sound of quick footsteps echoed as someone rose from their seat and darted off.

Mother glanced at me, seeking permission, and then went to grab Ellie. Grabbing her by the hair with practiced ease, she pinned her to the floor and forced her mouth open.

“Guh… Ugh!” Ellie gagged.

Blood began pooling on the floor, and the smell of urine mingled with muffled sobs. Mother had cut her own clothes to press against the wound on Ellie’s tongue.

The result? Ellie, spitting blood from her mouth, and Mother trembling, scissors still clutched in her hand.

“That’s it?” I asked.

Mother froze at my words.

In her right hand was a small chunk of Ellie’s severed tongue, cut by her own hands.

“You, you! I-I cut Ellie’s tongue! I cut Ellie’s tongue, and yet…”

“I didn’t ask for that. I just said she had said some cruel things to me before. Like what you used to do—just a little scolding would’ve sufficed.”

Mother collapsed to the floor.

“Mother, do you remember how much I hated your fingers back when you held the whip and hit me? I can’t forget it even now.”

At those words, Mother dropped the scissors.

The blades were stained with blood.

“Ellie, pick them up.”

Ellie only glared at me, refusing to move.

So, I created another hole right next to the one already in her shoulder.

Only then, sobbing and hiccupping, did she bend down and pick up the scissors.

“She won’t ever be able to speak again, so shouldn’t she at least try to express her resentment?”

Ellie shook her head.

What good would it do to hate the person who cut out her tongue?

Now she was sobbing outright, tears streaming down her face. Such touching familial love—if only they had shown it to me before.

“E-Ellie, calm down for a moment…”

Mother’s words were drowned out by the sound of a gunshot.

I reloaded the chamber and cocked the hammer again.

The last thing I wanted was to hear the empty click of the trigger when I pulled it.

Such foolishness wasn’t something I intended to allow.

Ellie held the scissors in her hand.

When Mother tried to resist, I aimed at her shin and pulled the trigger.

Rather than creating a hole, the impact was more like striking the area with a thin baton, cracking it.

With a scream, Ellie tightly closed her eyes and attempted to cut off one of her fingers with the scissors.

She snipped, but only halfway. The finger was left mangled, dangling loosely.

Who would’ve thought she’d fail so miserably at even that?

“Father, you’re just watching again today?” I asked.

“What could I possibly do?” he replied.

“I don’t know either.”

“If you stop now, I’ll only send you to a convent. I’ll let it end there.

I’ve cared for you, raised you with love—not like your mother treated you!”

“But not once did you ever show me any attention… No, never mind. What’s the point of talking about it with you?”

Continuing to speak or trying to justify myself would only make me look more pathetic.

Judging by the situation alone, if anyone were to stumble upon this scene, I would undoubtedly be the villain.

“Emily, please, just stop here. Stop here, or even Heaven won’t forgive you.”

“Heaven, you say?”

Heaven. Was he talking about family ties or the church he dutifully attended?

I couldn’t care less.

It was laughable. That so-called God who supposedly sat high above had never done a thing for me, yet for the mere act of venting some frustration, I was supposed to face divine punishment?

Ridiculous.

As if He even cared about me.

Still, his words left an irritating aftertaste.

“In any case, as thanks for your nonsense, I’ll spare you from anything too difficult.”

I heard a faint plea, “Let’s talk this out,” but it was faint.

That father of mine, who sometimes ignored me out of convenience and other times blamed me when Mother scolded him, was now sprawled on the floor, trembling.

The sight of a middle-aged man in such a state was pathetic.

To spare him from further disgrace, I offered a little “help” to keep the conversation brief.

I remembered watching so many movies before.

Scenes where characters got shot but still carried on a conversation.

Others where their bodies writhed for ages before finally succumbing.

Realizing now that it was all fiction, I felt a twinge of disillusionment.

Cinematic license was one thing, but this was absurd.

Who would’ve guessed they’d drop limp like a powered-down robot the instant they were hit?

Unless, of course, it was because I aimed for the head.

In that case, I could understand.

Three left.