Page 233 of DATE
By the time the kindergartens were completed, it was March of 1486.
The weather had gradually turned a little colder.
On days with light rain, the world seemed to take on a more cinematic feel, with raindrops falling in intermittent sheets beneath the eaves and swifts swooping low, circling above the square.
Hedy walked alone with an umbrella, her thoughts wandering.
She had designed a pair of waterproof shoes with excellentperformance, which didn’t require the wearer to constantly balance like a runway model and still managed to look elegant and stylish.
Leonardo was still helping her sort through sketches of the disease-resistant plants, and he was probably sneaking in some fun with a wooden yo-yo on the side.
As for the lord, he wore a cold and distant demeanor, but this time she wouldn’t rush to guess his thoughts. Her mindset had become much more relaxed.
In hot weather, ambition and passion seemed to rise and ferment, burning the heart like flames.
But on rainy days, the weather was perfect for deep sleep, as if one could become lazily boundless, lying in a soft, warm bed all day long.
She unconsciously yawned and suddenly caught the scent of beef patties.
— It was almost amusing how, back then, she had refused to eat any offal, and now she could casually talk about how well lamb tripe should be grilled to a perfect degree of doneness.
Hedy reached into her coin pouch and walked toward the shop, eager to try the new flavor.
Ever since the method for making pizza had spread, various peculiar versions had become popular in the city, receiving great attention.
Not only were there versions with tuna or mushrooms and green onions, but some had even tried using the dough to wrap up half a chicken and bake it.
As she walked over, she noticed a grimy boy hiding beneath a nearby eave, hugging his knees with his head buried in his arms.
He looked tall but frail, probably around twelve years old, retaining the faint features of a boy while exuding the clarity and freshness of youth.
What stood out, though, were the numerous rips and tears in hisclothes—seemingly from being scraped or torn.
His pale ankles were exposed and splattered with raindrops.
Hedy quietly approached, noticing that the dark marks on his elbows, arms, and ankles weren’t dirt, but rather scars or wounds.
Some of them already showed signs of bruising, looking like the remnants of old injuries.
She furrowed her brow, suddenly reminded of how Atalante had looked when she was about twelve or thirteen—
That child had lived a carefree life, always humming a little tune or whistling while helping Leonardo move paints or doing her own accounting. Compared to the boy before her, Atalante had seemed like someone from a completely different world.
…Another child raised in suffering.
The boy noticed someone was approaching and raised his head with a wary expression, his face both stubborn and defensive.
Like an angry black cat.
He had black hair and eyes, and though his clothes were tattered, his delicate features still shone through.
Hedy realized his heightened caution and made a soothing gesture. She spoke softly, “You’re hurt… how about eating something first?”
The boy quickly shook his head, as if preparing to get up and run away, but his stomach betrayed him with an unmistakable growl.
The owner of the shop nearby noticed a customer and eagerly lifted the lid off a fresh batch of baked pizzas. The mouthwatering aroma of baked wheat wafted out, so tempting that it made one want to buy ten in one go.
The boy, clearly drawn to the smell of the pizza, twisted his head away in a more defensive manner, hugging his knees even tighter.
