Miss, It’s Just a Cold

Chapter 67: This much is must

One thing I made sure to do was share music from my old world with Ariana.

From songs that were considered classics to popular tunes that were trending right before I left that world.

However, Ariana hardly recognized any of them.

Unless the songs had played during a subway transfer, featured in a famous movie, or had become a nationwide phenomenon, they were completely unfamiliar to her.

For her, it seemed clear that the present world was much more enjoyable than the old one.

I couldn’t understand that at first, but perhaps due to having more time to think or because of the child growing inside me, I started to understand her perspective a little.

Only a little.

Anything beyond that was impossible.

I had never experienced poverty so deep that it stripped away all sense of security, so I could never fully comprehend her.

For me, even if food prices went up a little at a restaurant, my reaction would be limited to something like, “Huh, it’s gotten a bit more expensive.”

I’d lived a privileged life.

I had the background and abilities to sustain that kind of life.

And for a time, I had taken it for granted—until life decided to teach me a harsh lesson.

Though I managed to overcome it, the memories still weighed me down, as if holding onto my ankles, refusing to let go.

If only they didn’t show up every night, maybe I could sleep peacefully.

Then again, after the baby arrives, I won’t have much time to sleep anyway, so maybe it’s for the best.

“I heard that one in a mattress commercial,” Ariana said, her voice as composed as her perfectly upright posture as she sipped tea.

I paused, surprised by her statement, and tried to recall. She was right—I had seen that song used in a commercial once.

“A mattress commercial… I think I might’ve heard it there too.”

“What’s the name of the song?”

“I think… Gymnopédie? But I don’t remember the composer or which number it was.”

I hadn’t written that one down in sheet music yet.

Judging by how vividly it lingered in my memory, it must have been one of the most famous pieces.

A sudden sharp pain in my head made me press my temples and shake my head.

Ignoring Ariana’s curious gaze, I rushed off to the study.

“Rin, get me some staff paper! Quickly!”

At first, Rin seemed flustered but soon returned with the paper, as if accustomed to my eccentric demands.

I grabbed a pen and began scribbling down notes.

Whenever my head throbbed like this, something always disappeared—completely, with no faint traces of memory left behind.

Reading back the notes I’d written often felt like discovering something new.

Ariana eventually walked into the study, munching on a cookie.

This was the same room where Ernst often studied, with her occasionally keeping him company.

She said nothing, having grown used to my odd behavior, and simply watched me.

Watched as I etched fragments of an old world into a sheet of five-lined staff paper.

What was she thinking as she observed me?

I couldn’t turn to look at her face—doing so might disrupt my flow, and then I’d lose the memory forever.

It took about two hours to finish transferring the piece to paper.

Carefully retracing the melody I had just played to ensure I remembered it exactly.

Strangely, once the notes were all written down, it felt like I’d never played the song before.

I titled it Gymnopédie, though I didn’t write the composer’s name or the piece’s number.

Had I forgotten it even back then?

Or had I just not wanted to write it down?

A familiar yet bitter sadness welled up inside me as I realized something precious had slipped away again. Slowly, I read through the sheet music.

“…Why are you crying all of a sudden?” Ariana asked.

“I don’t want to forget. That’s all. My eyes are just dry.”

Tears welled at the edges of my eyes.

When I closed them, my dry retinas felt momentarily refreshed, though my eyes also stung and turned red.

“When the baby is born, people might call me crazy someday. But I’ll tell them about the world I came from.”

“If you start young, they’ll believe you. Kids believe anything their mom says.”

“It’s not a matter of belief. It’s the truth.”

“Well, others won’t think so.”

“I don’t give a damn. If it comes to that, I’ll just tell them to kill everyone like I did.”

“…I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Honestly, this world is horrible, except for you and Ernst.

Oh, and Rin. She’s been great lately.”

“As I always say, I think this world is beautiful.”

“Exactly. The opposite of my perspective.”

Sometimes, I wished a meteor would fall from the sky and wipe out everyone except the four of us.

Maybe food, water, and entertainment would fall from the heavens too.

I still remember that animated movie where food rained from the sky.

Though I don’t recall the plot, I vaguely remember watching it on TV while eating shrimp ramen and thinking it was delightful.

Anyway, even though this world is horrible to me, I have to make it feel like Ariana’s world for this child.

Could I really do that?

“Do you think I can love this child properly?”

“You already do. You stroke your belly every day and whisper how much you love them. Why, is something worrying you?”

“On the first night, Ernst said that if I didn’t conceive, his parents might bury me somewhere, and then he… Well, he forced himself on me.

I don’t think of this baby as one born out of that, though.”

I hadn’t been ready—not emotionally or physically—but I hadn’t expected him to push so aggressively. Ernst likely hadn’t expected me to collapse, coughing up blood, either.

“This world is terrible.

But if I keep thinking that way, this child will end up feeling the same way.”

“…”

“What do I need to do? What should I do, who should I meet, how can I learn to love?

You and Ernst already love me.

You helped me escape that hellish mansion.”

“Do you remember what you told me once?”

“What did I say?”

“When you left the mansion, you said that the wildflowers growing along the roadside were beautiful.

And that when dandelion seeds from your garden sometimes sprouted flowers, it tickled you and made you happy for no reason.”

“…Did I really say that?”

“You did.

You also told me about a cat that always meows at you.

You said you liked it because it felt like the only thing in the world that truly liked you.”

“That cat was killed by the servant who gave us cookies and tea.”

“…”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to ruin the mood, but that’s all that’s ever on my mind.

The point is, I want to fix this about myself.”

It’s like a sickness.

Until I could rid myself of the words Fabian had last hurled at me, I needed to fix it.

He had called me a lunatic.

I hadn’t been able to argue against it.

I had no reply, so I simply pulled the trigger.

I wanted to forget.

There was no way for those memories to remain as good ones.

The only time I’d felt anything remotely satisfying was when I shot Daniel and my mother.

Even Ellie, whom I had hated so much, made me think I should have hesitated more before killing her.

Though, truthfully, I hadn’t hesitated at all when I pulled the trigger.

The kind of regret that makes you gasp after pulling the trigger.

“Ariana, parents must love their children.

A parent who can’t give love might as well not exist at all, don’t you think?

So, before I blow my own head off, tell me—what should I do?”

“Well, listen.”

“Yes?”

“You’re already loving them, aren’t you?”

Ariana smiled faintly as she spoke.

“Look at yourself—you’re constantly worrying, terrified that the child might hate you. You always stroke your belly, whispering how much you love them, and you’re endlessly concerned. If that’s not love, then what is?”

“…Maybe it’s just obsessive-compulsive behavior.”

“Then the word love comes before obsession, doesn’t it?”

Ariana spoke gently, as if she were teaching the alphabet to a clueless child.

I didn’t know what she was thinking, but she must’ve thought I seemed foolish.

She even looked at me like I was absurd for asking such a question.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but for once, I didn’t feel like I was sinking into the usual pit of despair.

“You don’t need to think that you have to change.

Just try looking at the world a little more positively, and you’d be perfect.

Even before you came here, I’m sure you were an amazing person.”

An amazing person. Maybe that’s enough.

An amazing mom, a mother.

Mother—I don’t like that term.

I’ll insist that they only call me Mom.

This, at least—this is something I’ll make sure of.