Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 58: Here

Mother was cradling Father’s lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably.

Did she love him?

The same man who scorned her, treating her as invisible, all because she bore children with a different hair and eye color?

I couldn’t comprehend it.

And so, I chose not to try.

There was no benefit in understanding someone I intended to harm; it would only dull my hatred.

“Please, please, just kill me and end this. I’m begging you.”

“Do you even feel sorry for what you’ve done to me?”

Smiling, I picked up bits of trash from the floor and hurled them toward her—scraps of paper, the shattered remains of my old instrument, and other random debris.

Even in this situation, Mother trembled, perhaps feeling humiliated, before muttering in a low voice:

“…Go to hell.”

“Oh, come now. You’ve already created hell right here; where else is there to go?

I’m sure anywhere else would be more livable than this.”

Cutting her tongue didn’t feel right.

There were still things I needed to say.

As for Ellie, there wasn’t much worth discussing with her.

“Ellie, this time it’s two fingers.”

Mother glared at me, her trembling hands reaching out toward Ellie with a hardened resolve.

Ellie sobbed as she desperately tried to cut off two of her fingers, while Mother shrieked in horror.

It seemed neither had enough strength; in the end, both fingers were left half-severed, dangling grotesquely.

I could have asked Fabian to do it, but what if he used the scissors to attack me?

I wanted to live a long, healthy life.

“Heaven or hell, either way, I’m sure people manage just fine.

They’re all just places where people live, and they can’t be worse than this mansion.”

If this were to repeat itself, though, that would be dreadful.

“I’m your parent. These children share the same blood as you.

You’ve killed your own kin, Emily. You’ve killed your family.”

Family? I didn’t know what that meant.

Not yesterday, not a year ago, not even several years ago—I had no idea.

What did “family” mean to these people?

To me, the Eisenach household was the closest example of what a family should be.

But this? This was just a collection of people bound by shared blood.

I didn’t care much, but still…

“Have you finished speaking?”

“How can you be so calm!?”

“Who knows? Maybe because I’ve been imagining this moment for years.”

I sighed.

“It was so hard, but now that it’s finally over, it feels surprisingly good.

I should have gone to the back alleys and bought a gun ages ago.”

I continued talking as I rummaged through the floor.

This place, where I had been dragged to and beaten day after day, where I’d been thrown out after passing out—it had been so long, yet I barely knew what was here.

Old memories surfaced.

Ellie used to mock me, pinching her nose whenever I came out of here after a beating.

Daniel muttered that I was filthy.

Then I’d head to the bathroom, crying as I washed myself, the sting of the water making me cry even more.

Back then, I cried so much.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried.

“Because we’re family. Because maybe, someday, you’d finally look back at me.

Maybe you’d pity me, maybe you’d help me one day…”

At the bottom of a drawer, I found the broken remains of my old instrument and, oddly enough, a flute that looked intact.

Perhaps it was so small that no one had touched it.

Still, it was so worn that the wood had rotted through; no sound would come from it now.

“But no one helped me.

You all mocked me, used me, mistreated me.

You never saw me as a person—all of you.

You even sold me to some rich pig while I wasn’t around…”

Still, I reached out and picked it up.

“Mother, you’re a horrible person.

Oh, this feels like something that a clown might say. But don’t worry, it’s not plagiarism.

That guy pulls the trigger right after speaking because he can’t control his emotions.”

Bang. Blood splattered again.

The recorder I had just picked up was stained with blood, though it didn’t get much dirtier since it was already ruined.

“You could have waited just a little longer.

Before I made this decision, you could have shown me just a bit of consideration.

Why didn’t it occur to you that hitting me would make me hit back eventually?

Anyway, If you had thought of me, even just a little…

I didn’t expect you to treat me like Ernst or Aria.

But as my so-called family, you could have done something…”

Dizzy for a moment, I sat on the floor before standing up again.

“I wanted to talk for a long time.

To sit down like this and have a nice, warm conversation.

This really suits our family. This is what family conversations are like, right?”

Where had all the servants gone?

Surely one of them could have come to help, yet they all seemed to have fled.

Earlier, When I Killed Daniel

The expression on the servant’s face when I killed Daniel earlier was priceless.

It twisted in shock before the so-called loyalty dissolved, and they abandoned their employer, fleeing for their life.

“Say something. If I talk to myself, it’s not a conversation.”

“So, is this your way of getting revenge?”

“Not quite. Who seeks revenge in such a wholesome manner?”

Mother glared at me with disdain, as if mocking my nonsense. But I was generous enough to let it slide. After all, it wasn’t contempt in her eyes—it was fear, and fear didn’t intimidate me.

“Now, suddenly, I’m your daughter?

You always said, ‘You’re not my daughter.

There’s no way something like you came from me.

Having something like you is my mistake.

You’d be better off finding a good man and leaving this house.’

Blah, blah. Or that dying under a carriage by accident wouldn’t be the worst outcome.”

I opened the chamber of the gun out of idle habit.

“You said not to make a fuss even if my bones were broken. When you stomped on my foot with your shoes and ripped out my toenails, you said not to cause a scene.

When you threw hot food at me, beat me, locked me up, and beat me again—was that supposed to be familial love? Parents? No way.”

I took out the bullets, then reloaded, repeating the process.

“Is that something you say to your daughter?

There’s no way someone like you could be my mother.

Parents are supposed to love their children. Isn’t that right, Emily? Right? Not sure why you’re quiet, but whatever.”

With that, I loaded the chamber fully and cocked the hammer.

“Wait, wait, Emily, hold on—”

“Shut up, Fabian.”

I tried to say it, but the words didn’t come out.

Puzzled, I looked down to find the barrel of the gun in my mouth.

Letting out a dry laugh, I pulled it out, triggering a gag reflex as it brushed my uvula.

I almost died like this.

I could have lived if I had let it go, so why did Fabian stop me?

Did he think of me as his sister?

If so, he should’ve helped sooner. Much sooner. Or at least followed my warning to stay out of the way tonight.

“Don’t take it too seriously.

I’m not.

It’s just… venting. Less revenge, more like a child throwing a tantrum.”

I was angry, but I didn’t scream.

Mother had taught me that, and I’d lived my whole life that way.

Always quiet, smiling faintly, internalizing everything like it was my fault.

I’d probably live the rest of my life like this.

Even when angry, even when struggling, I wouldn’t raise my voice. I’d just smile faintly, wallow in self-pity, and eventually die slowly.

Like now.

I should be the angriest person here, but I can’t even let my emotions explode.

“I can’t repay everything that was done to me.

I guess I’m not heartless enough to go that far. Hah.”

A laugh. A composed laugh. Not frivolous, but faintly unsettling nonetheless.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Ellie, you want to respond?”

Ellie didn’t answer.

I aimed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.

My wrist ached from the recoil.

Blood spurted like a fountain from Ellie’s forehead.

I wiped my face dry and sat down again.

I hadn’t intended to kill her, but every time a memory surfaced, it transformed her into someone I had to kill.

Pathetic and strange—that’s what I must be.

It’s what Ellie always said.

“Big sister is pathetic, stupid, disgusting, and gross,” she’d sneer.

Mother was sobbing uncontrollably, making choking noises, clenching her fists.

Not that it mattered—two of her fingers were only half-severed, so she couldn’t clench properly anyway.

When she tried to lunge at me through her tears, I offered a faint glimmer of hope.

“There’s still one left. Sit down.”

She let out a guttural sob as she collapsed.

Just as I once clung to the hope that I could escape this house and live happily,

Perhaps now I could help Mother slowly let go of hers.

Because love surely lingers here.

We’re family, after all.

We’re family.

Radio, telephones, movies—these things fade over time. Fantasies fade over time.

But even so, my love will remain here.

I hummed an old song I used to listen to often, with slightly altered lyrics, as I strolled around the room.