Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 64

The world ultimately runs on humor, on being something to laugh at.

And the man in front of me seemed to lack even the barest sense of humor.

You know the type—his mouth perpetually downturned, his eyes sharp, and his demeanor exuding irritation for no reason.

Ernst’s father, Count Altenburg, didn’t seem to like me very much.

I couldn’t blame him. If my child brought home someone labeled a family murderer as their lover, I wouldn’t be thrilled either.

“I heard quite the commotion in the night.”

“There were things breathing that shouldn’t have been alive in the first place.”

“This isn’t the time to stand there with your head held high, looking at me insolently and running your mouth.

You should be on your knees, begging me to let you stay in this house. Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m tired of begging.

For years, my daily pleas were, ‘Please spare me, please at least give me a room smaller than a doghouse.’

Honestly, I think I’d rather die than go back to that life.”

At my words, he furrowed his brow and walked over to a wall where a large sword was mounted.

It was hung slightly above his height, and seeing him hop up to try and reach it wasn’t exactly a dignified sight.

Ernst sighed and ran his hands through his hair, while the woman who seemed to be his mother continued her meal unfazed, as if used to this sort of display.

The irritable man, in contrast to how he had just spoken to me, called a servant over politely and asked them to retrieve the sword.

The servant scratched their head before heading off to fetch something.

They brought back a chair to help, but the count seemed to change his mind and dismissed the servant again.

“Ernst, does it have to be her?”

At his father’s words, Ernst nodded.

The count sighed.

“I don’t understand. But if it’s what you want…

Go talk to your mother about it.”

With that, the count silently continued his meal.

Rather than dining like a noble, it was more like he was mechanically refueling himself. Once done, he practically fled the room.

However, the countess didn’t leave.

She directed the servants to clear the table and bring out tea and pastries.

“It’s no wonder my husband gets so riled up.

He probably imagines that if we take in someone like you, you might one day kill Ernst—and then all of us.

He’s a fearful man, despite appearances.”

Though her tone was calm, her words felt sharper than the ones her husband had hurled at me earlier.

Of course, that was probably just my imagination.

There was no blade in sight—only people who might conveniently dispose of me under the cover of night.

The countess nibbled on a pastry, then looked at me and spoke in a low voice.

“I don’t mind.

You wouldn’t dare think of taking a lover, nor would you bring in some strange child from who knows where.

Out of gratitude to Ernst, out of a sense of debt—or maybe because you genuinely love him—you’ll likely have a child and raise them properly.

Or so I think.”

She sipped her tea, as if to compose herself, and continued.

“You’ll inherit everything from the Reichten family, but the one who will be scorned is you, my dear.

And that’s quite convenient for us.

As long as no one stirs up trouble, you’re the only one left.”

Her voice echoed faintly in the vast room, which was far too large to simply be called a “room.”

“So, I want to know.

Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I replied.

“You can say that if you like.

Though I imagine your happy married life will last about a week.”

At that, Ernst lowered his voice and spoke warningly.

“Mother.”

“Ernst, this is when you keep quiet.

After all, marriage isn’t something you can decide on your own.

The girl beside you—whether or not she committed any grave acts—drags around a storm of ominous rumors wherever she goes.”

The countess dismissed her son’s protest as little more than childish whining.

Was she trying to discipline a son blinded by idealism and sentimentality? Or was she simply reveling in the role?

Either way, one thing was clear: there were far better candidates for Ernst than me—better in every way but love, emotion, and time.

In my previous life, those things were everything.

But here, they were worthless, like garbage.

“It’s a very important matter, deciding who to spend your life with.

And this girl doesn’t seem like someone who would support you. Rather, you would have to support her.”

“…That’s—”

“Wrong, isn’t it?”

“Then it’s very wrong.”

“What should I call you?

Mother? Countess Altenburg? Hmm. Those are the only two I can think of.”

“Call me Countess.”

I still had a gun hidden on me.

It was only loaded with a single bullet, but that was enough.

I pulled it out.

Both Ernst and the countess looked startled at first, then curious.

I held the muzzle and offered the handle to her, but she didn’t take it.

Shrugging, I placed it on the table.

“I’m a frail girl with no family.

But I have plenty to my name.

Not much cash right now, but if I sold off the jewelry my mother once wore, I could probably live comfortably for the rest of my life.”

“That’s the one thing I said I liked about you from the start.”

“As someone who raised Ernst so well, you must have lived an upright life yourself.

As a noble, you must know the proper etiquette, decorum, norms, and behavior… Though they’re all the same, really.”

“Child, are you mocking me now?”

“Who knows. I’m just like this.

If you think I’m being sarcastic, then it’s sarcasm. If you think I’m just talking, then I’m just talking.”

“You sound just like some self-proclaimed scholar holed up in a room with no grasp of the real world.

I’ve never heard that you’ve studied anything, though.”

“That’s because there was never anyone who could teach me.

Countess, when I look at you, you seem like nothing more than an uncivilized savage.”

“It seems to me that you’re the more savage one, spouting words without regard for your situation or proper etiquette.

You’ve murdered your entire family, and instead of bowing your head in shame, you sit here before me spewing such insolent nonsense.”

The countess paused, as if to compose herself, then continued.

“Child, you have no idea how much patience I’m exercising right now.”

“Don’t hold it in. If you do, you might end up like me.

Countess, I held it in until I rotted away. In the end, my family was buried beneath the dirt and rotted along with me.”

Though perhaps my mother’s corpse wouldn’t rot.

It was so filthy that not even insects or microbes might want to touch it.

“And it’s not nonsense; it’s the truth.

They weren’t family. Do nobles consider their servants to be family?”

“Listening to you, it sounds as if you’re saying you were no better than a servant.”

“Oh, it was worse than that. I was just a thing.

A possession with a bit more value than the ring on my finger.”

“But I wasn’t treated as a noble. Whether noble or commoner, I was raised as a commodity to be sold off to anyone with enough money.

So if you speak of me as if I were a thing, I won’t feel offended.

Because it’s true.

And there’s even a word to describe someone who is little more than an object.

But I won’t say it out loud.”

In this cursed world, it’s horrifying no matter where you run.

But keeping my mouth shut and staying here felt like it would recreate the life I had in the Reichten household.

“Am I being insolent?”

“Extremely so.”

“Do you wish for me not to be by Ernst’s side?”

“Yes, though Ernst doesn’t seem to feel the same way.”

“Have you ever hurt someone, Countess?”

“The world isn’t full of people like you, so most haven’t.”

“That’s fortunate.”

Because hurting someone with words doesn’t count, right?

Then again, sometimes words…

“And I won’t be kind.

It would be better to take all that wealth and bring in a proper commoner with at least a respectable appearance than to…”

For a moment, my mother and this woman overlapped in my mind.

When, I wondered, would I do something so wretched again?

If Ernst and I had a child, I could end up treating them the same way.

Someone like me shouldn’t exist.

The hammer was probably already cocked. All I had to do was lift it and pull the trigger.

Impulsively, I reached for the “conversation helper” on the table, intending to blow away my insolent, loathsome, and accursed head.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—Ernst twisted my wrist with all his strength, causing me to drop the gun.

Not that it mattered. I probably wasn’t serious about firing it anyway.

Wait, was I?

No, I don’t think so. Either way…

“…Ow, that hurts!”