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Hedy sighed inwardly, thinking that if this were Atalante fromfive years ago, she would have been pleading and coaxing her to buy one by now.
The former had been like a stubborn, reclusive black cat, while Atalante had been more like a clingy and obedient white cat.
Hedy pulled out a silver coin and asked the shopkeeper to add a generous scoop of hot meat sauce.
— She didn’t quite understand why pizza was served this way, but the smell alone made her feel a little hungry herself.
Hedy gently placed the pizza in his arms, offering no more words than a brief, “The wounds will get infected if they’re exposed to rain,” before turning and walking away.
At this age, teenagers were likely at their most sensitive, their pride the most fragile.
If she stayed and watched him eat, he might rather starve than take a single bite.
As she walked with the umbrella in hand, her thoughts remained uneasy.
When handing him the pizza earlier, she had noticed that the scars on his body were far more numerous than what she had first seen—
Elbows, hands, the side of his face, and his neck…
Was he a servant of some sadistic noble?
Or had he been tortured by an employer?
Hedy walked halfway down the street but then stopped.
Something didn’t seem right—she had overlooked something.
The boy’s clothes were clearly long overdue for a wash, and there were stains on them—colored stains.
It was oil paint.
When she helped Leonardo wash clothes, the hardest part was always dealing with oil paints mixed with turpentine—washing them with the soap available at this time was nearly impossible.
Hedy worried that if she left now, there might be another ghost haunting the streets of Florence, one that had died a cruel andtragic death. So, she quietly turned back.
She had to take a final look before leaving.
Because of the rain, the street was nearly deserted, with the shopkeepers all setting up awnings to shield from the downpour.
The abandoned boy, like a black cat, was huddled up, eating his pizza with a look of distress, his body shivering from the cold, fine rain that kept pelting him, making him curl up even tighter.
Hedy carefully tried to conceal her presence, but then she realized he was crying.
The boy was crying while eating.
It was as though he refused to admit defeat, repeatedly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, the scars on his palms and wrists becoming even more visible.
The pizza wasn’t large, but because of his injuries, he seemed to struggle to swallow, his crying quiet and muffled, as if the pain was too much to bear.
Hedy quietly waited for him to finish eating before she walked over, holding the umbrella.
The boy, realizing it was the same strange woman, instinctively shrank back.
"Don’t be afraid…" she felt like a woman with ulterior motives, and sighed softly. "I need a servant to help clean the courtyard. Would you like to come?"
The boy watched her pale blue eyes warily, quickly shaking his head.
"I..." His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "I have work."
