Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 60: What Have I Done

Gunshots echoed from next door.

Over and over again.

Each time I heard them, I closed my eyes.

The sounds were relentless.

What have I done?

I said I would help her.

Screams, shouts, the horrible sounds people make before they die, sobbing, gunshots.

What have I done?

Emily is… Emily is shooting people.

Her own family.

Maybe she doesn’t see them as family, but to everyone else, they are.

And it’s all because of me.

When Emily was struggling so much, when she was dying from illness, I should have been by her side to support her.

I called myself her friend, yet I did nothing.

If anything, Aria—she probably helped Emily far more, and better, than I ever did.

I didn’t do anything.

All I ever did was stand in her way, tease her unnecessarily until she bled or vomited, fail to notice when she was sick, and dance around obliviously.

It’s all because of me.

I could have saved her.

When Emily started distancing herself from me, I thought she just didn’t like me anymore.

That’s why I didn’t push Aria away when she came closer.

While I was dreaming about the future, Emily was dying.

Bang. A scream. A wail.

The cacophony continued.

Clutching my head, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face into the mattress.

I want to see her smile.

That small, subtle smile of hers—it’s so beautiful.

What will happen once this is over?

I only hope Emily doesn’t blow her own head off.

If she does, I’ll be devastated. Words couldn’t even describe it.

Right now, I want to get up and stop her.

But it’s already happened.

What could I do at this point?

It’s too late.

The moment I failed to notice her pain, failed to understand why she pushed me away—it was too late.

I could have helped.

I liked her so much when we were kids.

But I couldn’t reach her, and now…

If only earlier in the day—before Emily headed to the estate—I had asked her to marry me. Would things have turned out differently?

No. She probably would have laughed at me, called it nonsense, and brushed it off.

Just thinking about it gives me a headache again.

Time passed.

The gunfire stopped.

Maybe ten minutes later, another shot rang out.

By now, even the smallest sounds had faded away.

I stood up.

My heart pounded so loudly I could feel it echoing through my chest with every step I took.

Thump, thump. It was deafening, even as I walked.

Is Emily alive, or is she dead?

Please, let it be the former.

Straightening my coat, I headed for the front door.

On the way, the butler gave me a worried look, as if pleading for me not to go.

But I had to.

I had to see with my own eyes what had become of Emily.

I approached Emily’s mansion.

At the front door, blood was seeping out, pooling at the threshold.

The stench of blood hit me, making me grimace.

I opened the door and saw someone writhing, their body jerking weakly.

Looking closer, I recognized her—it was Mrs. Reichten. Someone I’d seen around occasionally.

Did Emily do this?

I didn’t want to think about it.

For now, I prioritized Emily’s safety above all else.

The woman begged me to open the door and let her out.

I didn’t care.

If Emily’s words were to be believed, Mrs. Reichten had been slowly killing her for years.

The story was disgusting.

How could a parent treat their child like that?

Only a monster would do such things.

In this house, Emily was the only person who mattered to me.

I felt no pity for the woman.

Her pitiable state clashed with the image of her I had in my mind—whole and unharmed.

Still, she was the one who had silently, insidiously caused Emily so much suffering.

Ignoring her curses, I stepped past her and into the house.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, but as I followed the scent, another odor emerged.

Blood. And something else. Something worse.

Stopping in front of a large door where the coffee smell was strongest, I opened it.

The stench of guts and rot assaulted my nose.

Inside were scattered, unidentifiable human fragments, blood, and the unmistakable stink of urine.

On the floor lay headless corpses, their chests still oozing blood.

It was the first time I’d ever seen such raw, unfiltered death.

And in the middle of it all was Emily, sitting calmly, sipping coffee.

“Oh, I was waiting for you.”

***

“You’re finally here,” she said.

“…Emily.”

Ernst’s voice trembled with concern as he looked at me.

He must have passed the horrifying corpses and Mrs. Reichten’s writhing body on his way here. Yet still, he was worried about me.

“Sorry for all the noise in the middle of the night. Everyone’s probably trying to sleep, and I must have disturbed them.”

“…”

“I thought I’d try making a joke, but I guess it wasn’t funny.”

Ernst didn’t respond.

He seemed stunned, staring at the corpses strewn across the floor.

“What happens to me now?”

“…”

“I did all this in a fit of rage, but now I don’t know what to do.

Hey, Ernst. I can’t see the way forward. I thought that once I killed them all, once I got rid of these people in front of me, something would change. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

The gun was still in my hand.

I felt like blowing my head off.

At least then, the headache pounding in my skull might finally stop.

What was it I wanted to do?

I’d planned to just maim them, spare their lives—except for Mother.

But what had I done?

I didn’t regret it, but there was this strange, lingering aftertaste I couldn’t shake.

“Nothing will happen,” Ernst said, breaking the silence as he walked slowly toward me.

“I’ll make sure of that.

People will believe a disgruntled commoner, angry at society, came in and killed your entire family.

You’ll be seen as the unfortunate girl who returned home from staying with me to find everyone she loved dead.”

“Really? You think that’ll work?”

“Who’s left to say otherwise? The only witnesses were the servants.

And no matter what rumors the commoners spread, the truth is whatever I say it is.”

“Ernst, when did you become so authoritarian?”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Who knows.”

“You’ll hold a simple funeral, inherit everything here, and marry me.

Since I’m only marrying you for your wealth, just follow along and say what I tell you to—”

“Ernst. When you lie, you blink too much and your breathing quickens. No one’s going to fall for it.”

I stood up.

Draining the rest of the coffee in my cup, I headed for the front door.

Mother was still squirming, struggling futilely to open the door.

I kicked her side, crouched beside her, and yanked her head back by the hair, pulling her face close to mine.

“Did you hear?

Thanks to you, I’m going to marry Ernst, and we’ll live happily ever after.

I’ll take this house, all the jewelry, clothes, and wealth you hoarded, and everything that should’ve gone to Fabian.”

Mother screamed.

But the sounds weren’t words anymore—just animalistic howls spilling from her mouth.

“I love you. Probably.

And Emily still loves you.

The love we shared will stay lodged in my mind forever, never disappearing.”

The words didn’t matter.

The emotion behind them was clear.

More vivid than any other choice of words could have conveyed.

“It’s all because of you.”

Disgust swelled within me. I aimed the barrel at her head and pulled the trigger.

I wished there would be nothing left of her.

So I kept pulling the trigger.

Five shots.

The revolver was empty.

I tossed it to the floor, grabbed a chair from the dining room, and began smashing it down on her already lifeless body.

By the time Mother, like Daniel, had been reduced to something resembling minced meat, I stopped to catch my breath and collapsed onto the floor.

“Ernst, can I borrow your bathroom?”

Ernst bit his lip and didn’t answer.

Shrugging, I climbed the stairs, undressed, and began washing myself.

The filth of the people who had slowly been killing me, the filth of the world itself, started to wash away with the water.

I dried myself thoroughly with a towel, put on fresh clothes, and returned downstairs.

Ernst was sitting at the dining table, rubbing his face dry with his hands.