Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 14: A Friend

It had been a few days since the ball.

Today was likely a holiday.

The house was unusually quiet because my family had gone out for the day.

They left me behind, which made it a perfect day.

Mother had asked me with her usual mocking smile, “Would you like to come with us?” But before I could answer, Ellie chimed in, “Emily prefers staying home, so let’s just go by ourselves!”

How annoying.

I didn’t stay because I liked being here. Not because I hated it, either. This wasn’t my home.

This wasn’t where I belonged, and someday I’d have to leave.

For now, though, I enjoyed the rare moment of peace.

Sometimes, I forget, but this world truly is beautiful.

Even with a stiff body, a good cup of coffee and the sight of birds flying outside can remind me.

If that’s not beauty, what is?

The coffee beans were a bit cheap, but it would’ve been unfair to compare them to the ones served at balls, where the richest and most distinguished people sourced the finest goods.

A sweet pastry would’ve been nice, but I wasn’t about to hope for too much.

Today felt like one of those rare happy days.

If I could have one of these days each year, no matter how harsh life was, it’d feel bearable.

Knowing days like this will come again gives me hope.

Being alone made it all the more peaceful.

“Miss.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“You have a visitor, a friend.”

“…A friend?”

The servant looked confused.

So did I.

There was no way I had a friend.

I spent all my time stuck at home, ostracized and bullied. A friend would’ve been an anomaly.

“Do we have anything to offer them?”

“Well, there’s the coffee you were drinking and some sugar cubes in the kitchen. Should I bring those out?”

“Just the coffee is fine.”

The servant nodded and went to prepare another cup.

Uneducated as they were, they sometimes failed to understand my words, but at least they listened.

If they’d been too clever, even as commoners, they’d probably join the family in looking down on me.

I had no idea who could possibly be visiting.

If it were Ernst, the servant would’ve mentioned him by name.

I walked to the full-length mirror to check my appearance.

Wearing light clothing made the bruises and scars on my body even more visible.

“Tell them to wait. They won’t mind since they came unannounced,” I said.

I returned to my room, threw on a coat despite the heat, and stepped outside.

I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this.

The warmth of the sunlight felt pleasant, not scorching but like a gentle touch.

I wondered how deprived of human contact I must be to think that way.

The person who claimed to be my “friend” was someone I barely recognized.

“You’re the first friend to ever visit my home.

Also, the first person to call themselves my friend.”

Saying that made my life sound more tragic than it was. But on days like today, I could pretend I lived a normal, happy life.

“Ernst lives next door, doesn’t he?”

“He’s never visited. So, why are you here?

If you came to tell me to stay away from Ernst, you should know that’s a bit pointless. We’re neighbors.”

“That’s not it. I asked Ernst your name, but he wouldn’t tell me.

So, I came to ask you myself. You said you were his neighbor, so you couldn’t run away this time.”

Imagine having enough free time to waste it like this.

I wanted to live like that.

But I wasn’t this woman.

As I stared at her radiant hair, she crossed her arms and spoke.

“By the way, is leaving guests standing at the door part of your family’s custom?”

“…Ah.”

I invited her inside and led her to the table where I’d been drinking coffee.

She glanced around the house curiously before sitting down. After taking a sip of the coffee, she winced slightly.

“Sorry, it’s just cheap beans,” I said.

“It’s not that. I just don’t handle bitter coffee well…”

“Rin, bring some sugar for the guest,” I called to a passing servant.

The servant, polite as always, nodded and fetched a jar of sugar.

She added four spoonfuls to her coffee before finally taking a sip with a contented look.

At that point, it was so sweet I wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

“So, you came all this way just to ask my name?

On a sunny holiday, instead of spending time with others, you visit someone as dull as me. Isn’t that a waste of your time?”

“…I know showing up unannounced was rude, but I was curious.”

Ah, right. I was supposed to be the villain.

A pathetic one with neither ability nor wealth, clinging to my title.

No wonder she was confused.

“If you want to know my name, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

“I’m Aria. Aria Eisenach.”

“Just call me Emily.”

I didn’t include my surname.

It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

An awkward silence followed our introductions.

I hated the feeling, so I downed the rest of my coffee and muttered:

“If you’ve satisfied your curiosity, could you leave?

You don’t have to worry—I won’t cling to Ernst.”

She stared at me.

I added, almost as an excuse:

“That night, I was just hiding.

The waltz playing in the ballroom was cheerful, loud, and full of energy, but it made me feel awful.”

“That’s not it…”

Aria cleared her throat.

“I thought your name would be four syllables. Doesn’t have the nicest ring to it, though.”

“Showing up unannounced, calling yourself a friend when you’re not, and now all you care about is my name?

I’ve been called rude plenty, but this isn’t just rude—it’s downright disrespectful.”

“…You don’t seem like the same character,” Aria muttered quietly.

Her words left me momentarily dazed.

Right. I was a character from a novel.

I’d realized this before, hadn’t I?

Yes, I was a fictional character.

An ugly, useless, talentless side villain written to covet Ernst’s affection.

Both of us had white hair, but mine was dry and brittle like an old person’s, while hers was vibrant and alive, more like silver than white.

My eyes were unsettling crimson, but hers were the deep, refreshing blue of the ocean.

My lips were pale, cracked, and sometimes even bled, while hers were red and glossy.

We were similar, yet she was leagues above me—like a cruelly designed inferior copy.

My skin was as pale as a corpse’s.

Perhaps it was foreshadowing that I would soon be one.

If that were the case, it would explain the sour feeling boiling in my chest.

Right. I wasn’t Emily.

The Emily written into the novel didn’t have a terminal illness or suffer under the cruelty of her family.

Of course not.

She was the only albino in the household. That alone was enough to make her a target.

Though I doubt the term “albino” would even make sense here.

Aria might understand, though. She was born in this world, like Emily. Unlike me.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, along with the metallic taste of blood.

Maybe it made sense for them to despise me.

Rumors said I wasn’t even my father’s child, just some illegitimate offspring from an affair.

Who could blame them for their revulsion?

This was a world where infants were abandoned—or worse—simply to avoid the stigma of illegitimacy.

Still, was it too much to ask for a shred of love from my family?

“Character?”

I pretended not to understand.

What good would it do to admit, I’m not from here, help me!?

No one would believe me.

Especially not someone who seemed so perfectly at home in her own skin.

“Oh, no. It was just a passing thought,” Aria said, waving it off.

“There are only two of us here, yet you’re mumbling to yourself. Impressive.

Anyway, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, why don’t you head home?”

I laced my words with sarcasm, a mocking smile tugging at my lips.

“But I haven’t even finished my coffee….”

“It’s a rare holiday. I’d like to spend it alone.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

“That’s none of your concern, nor are we close enough for me to tell you.

Showing up like this is incredibly unpleasant.

I hope this doesn’t happen again.”

“No.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I said no. I’m going to make an effort to get closer to you, so you’d better get used to it.”

With that, she downed her lukewarm, overly sweetened coffee and left.

I stared after her, utterly baffled.

Why had she come? To mock me? To find something about me that didn’t fit the original story?

I turned my gaze to the window.

Birds were still chirping and flying outside.

Yet, for some reason, their sounds now grated on my ears like noise.

I knew the truth.

I didn’t like her.

Mother always told me I wasn’t the kind of person who could have friends.

And Aria? She was too perfect to even resemble one.

Someone like me? A friend? What a joke. Hah.

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