About Your Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 19: Crossroads of Life and Death

I suffered for three days. I didnt know Id really suffer from a terrible fever.

During the time I was lying down, every thought and disillusionment that was filled in my head was erased as expected.

Nevertheless, I was not happy because the time was so painful. I was literally on the threshold of death.

The memories of my previous life are already very faint, but I remember that I had spent many years on the hospital bed. Those times were anxieties disguised as peace, but I was willing to be deceived. At first glance, the days were calm enough to be mistaken for peace.

From the day I first collapsed at the age of sixteen to the day I finally closed my eyes forever in the hospital room at the age of twenty, my only hobbies were reading books or writing occasionally. Even though it was such a boring life, I used to be confident in enduring pain.

But I finally realized what a silly illusion it was. Pain is something that cant be dulled by learning.

Where is the me of my previous life who endured countless treatments while suppressing the groans while grimacing? Is it already scattered far away from my memories?

For literally three days I was in between life and death, my consciousness endlessly clamoured in the pitiful body exhaling precarious breath, asking for death.

The terrible pain that made me want to put everything down like this constantly shook me up. While my body was twisting due to the burning heat, a terrible chill that permeated my bones. I trembled like a candle in front of the wind.

A large embrace that embraced me, who was frozen as cold as if my heart would stop at any moment. Crossing the line, I desperately clung to the memory of that moment. In the warmth of the man, who seemed like a ray of light in the dark.

When his arms wrapped around me, the feeling at that time was comparable to salvation. He seemed to comfort me that I would surely be able to live, and that in this life I should never give up easily.

However, no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it, the warmth kept moving away. The clouded consciousness flickered constantly as it faded. It was like being in the middle of a brutal battlefield. Similar to a living hell.

.

How did I struggle like that?  Suddenly, I felt a tingling sensation in my left hand. There was also a very slight body temperature.

Both my eyes, which seemed to never see light again, sensed faint light. My eyelids trembled helplessly at the tears coming out of the eyelashes that were touching each other.

Melissa!

My mother, who was dozing off while holding my hand, looked surprised as if she had seen a ghost. I didnt know until now that my mothers hands had become so rough.

Mom.

As if I had swallowed a fish thorn, my voice did not come out properly. The wet towel on my forehead had become lukewarm.

Oh my god, Melissa! God!

My mother hugged me with tears in her eyes. Having no strength in my body, I was only swaying helplessly in my mothers arms.

Over my mothers shoulder, a doctor, who was sleeping on a chair in a corner, jumped up and ran towards me. Mrs. Kearney, who was entering the room with a basin filled with water, also paused.

The fever is almost gone.

Thank you, sir. Thank you..

I heard my mothers voice expressing her gratitude. I closed my eyes comfortably, feeling a new towel on my forehead. It was a rather mild morning for winter.

* * *

After the fever subsided and I literally came back alive from the crossroads of life and death, my mother and Mrs. Kerney took turns visiting me.

The two ladies desperately expressed their gratitude to me for fighting and overcoming it without giving up, and endlessly confessed how much they loved me.

In particular, my mother poured out a series of words that could doubt my ears while listening to it, saying that marriage was not everything. She even listened to the story that I began to write a novel, which I confessed thinking this was the time, in an attitude close to encouragement.

It seems that some kind of shock therapy worked, but it was a strange situation indeed. I had no idea how long the effect will continue, but so far it continues to be safe.

Today, the third day after regaining my consciousness, I woke up from a sweet sleep in the afternoon. My body was surprisingly light.

Finally, I could realize that I had fully recovered from the terrible fever. It was the feeling that I had longed and hoped for in my last life. Somehow, I felt like I was going to cry.

The first thing I did when I got out of bed was to write a reply. This is because I finally opened Tobys letter, which had arrived while I was suffering from a high fever on my bed.

Tobias said he went to New Ditch to meet his family. He had cutely whimpered that it was too bad that I couldnt accompany him.

In addition to the friendly greeting letter, there was a palm-sized picture in the envelope, and I could tell at a glance. That the lake in the picture is Lake of New Ditch.

Wow

I heard that New Ditch has a lot of snow unlike Florin, but the picture of the lake in the pure white snow looked like a world out of a fairy tale. Since it is a painting that gives a sentimental and romantic impression, I was secretly convinced that I would like the lake if I saw it in person.

By the time I wrote the letter, it was almost time for dinner. I pulled out my old notebook in the hopes of writing something down. It was only a few days later, but I was feeling strange that it felt unfamiliar.

To check how far I wrote, I opened the last part and burst into laughter.

Thats right. I made a mistake again.

With a dejected face, I alternated my gaze between lines drawn on Alans name and the small letters Troy below it.

How many more mistakes do you intend to make? At this rate, all my pages will be black. I grabbed a pen with a short deep breath.

There wasnt a lot of writing. So I was able to quickly glance at everything I had written so far, but my face got hot again when I read it quietly.

Of course, the female protagonist was strangely a character who inherited my emotions, and the male protagonist was just a name, Troy, but he perfectly projected Alan Leopold in all aspects, including the appearance, personality, and atmosphere.

The story, with tiny modifications were composed of the few anecdotes between me and him, and the heroines lines were dotted with clumsy truths that I could not convey to him in real life. Im too shy.

This is like a diary.

But I am writing a novel. So I need to be a little more creative.

From the moment I woke up from a long sleep, I quickly started writing the story I had been wanting to write for a long time.

Melissa!

I heard Mrs. Kerneys voice calling me from the first floor as my meal was ready, but I pretended to be ignorant because I couldnt distract myself. I think itll be okay once.

I was writing a scene where the heroine was caught up in a snow storm due to a sudden weather change. I was able to vividly describe how cold it was, how frightening it was, and how all the senses and consciousness of the body were blurred.

Well, its not much different from what I experienced.  Again, I brought an anecdote that I actually went through.

However, I wrote a scene where the male protagonist Troy saves the female protagonist who fell in the snow.

The snow was so strong, that I didnt put any special lines between the two of them. Because the heroine was gradually losing consciousness.

However, as if Troy was lovingly hugging the frozen woman and encouraging her that she would be able to live, it was written with special care.  Its an important scene where he establishes himself as a lifesaver for the heroine.

Next, as I was writing down a line detailing how he had drove her home in his magnificent carriage, I once again heard a voice calling me.

Hey, Melissa! Come down!

This time, it was my mother. It sounded like she was very angry, so I hurriedly got up.

Im coming!

As I went down the stairs, the savory smell of beef stew that I had subtly sniffed in my room became more intense. I felt touched for no reason. How long has it been since I had a proper meal?

Fortunately, the food has not cooled down yet. After the prayer before the meal, my mother said,

The meat ran out, but there is still time until Mr. Greg arrives, right?  Thats why Mrs. Kerney went out to the market to get it for you, right?

Is that so? Thank you, Mrs. Kerney.

It must have been cold. And soon Mrs. Kearney added a small smile, revealing her rabbit-like front teeth.

It was a normal but warm and grateful dinner. The ladies continued to talk about insignificant daily stories.

However, a word from my mother made me pause my hand as I was eating the potatoes in the stew.

Mom, what did you just say?

My mothers eyebrows twitched perhaps she thought I was talking back.

That Mr. Leopold is as good as his reputation, why? He saved you. Did I say something wrong?

What?

That child, Melissa.

As I made a bewildered look, Mrs. Kerney added, squinting her eyes,

Brought you home from the snow.

Yes, Sir Alan. How grateful I was? I asked how I could express my gratitude, and he said he just did what he had to do!

Usually, my mother used to secretly envy the Leopold family, who had grown to rival the influence of the royal family. She use to badmouth Alan saying that he was only polished on the outside and that it was clear he was the empty inside, but now she was full of praises for him.

No, I.

My confused mind made it difficult for me to speak. So, the owner of the arms who saved me is Alan Leopold?

I couldnt close my lips to a story that seemed more like my novel than reality.

Whats wrong with you? I had already told you everything when you woke up.

At that time, I guess I wasnt awake yet. I dont remember hearing it at all.

Eventually, my hands trembled and I missed the tableware. I have to hurry up and figure out the situation, but it doesnt make sense no matter how much I think about it. How on earth is this coincidence.

That Alan Leopold saved me?

Oh my.

At that time, when I suddenly heard someone knocking roughly on the gate, my surprised mother put down the glass of water. Me, Mrs. Kerney, and Julia, who was passing by the table, also looked toward the gate at once.

No way.

Who could it be?

At my question, three women shrugged at the same time. It was shortly after Mrs. Kearney, who raised herself, ran to the door to greet an unexpected visitor.

***

Comments from Korean readers:

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Could it be that the main character before she was possessed read the book Mel is writing now?  So, I think I will continue to write from the point of view of an omniscient writer.

Im annoyed. Someone give me a ride on the novel, please.

When Alan reads the novel, isnt it from an omniscient perspective? His name is Troy, and it also says that he saved FL

Alan Youre a true love.

I like them all, but I dont think its right to write that novel.

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