His words felt like a slap across the face. Befuddled, I watched blankly as he turned back around. I was aware of how Judith and Luca usually spoke to each other from Judith’s memory, but it was still a shock.

Of course, their usual conversations went something along the lines of:

“Luca! You little weevil! Stop eating all the food and go make some money!”

“I bought this bread myself! You’re the weevil, Aunt Judith!”

Or something to that extent. Okay. It’d be suspicious to suddenly go from spewing insults to tender affection. Too suspicious. You reap what you sow. If Judith was that rude, it’d be strange for Luca to be a little angel.

This is all Judith’s fault. I became the all-knowing mother and took Luca’s side. Not that I’d be able to find any reason to take Judith’s side, even if I’d tried. Plus, I’d started out fond of Luca, since he was the hero. It’s only natural. He’s the main character of my favorite novel, after all.

Whatever. I’d never expected to win him over with a single meal anyway. Luca’s mother, Lalisa, had already been dead for five years. Of course, Judith didn’t immediately start mistreating him five years ago.

At first, she just treated him like he was a bother. Then, it escalated to neglect. Over the past three years, the neglect became abuse—just around the time that his looks started to blossom. Three years is a long time, especially for a child. I expected I’d have to wait a while before he would open up.

At least time was on my side. Luca’s uncle, Ruediger Winterwald, comes to find him during the May Festival when he’s ten years old, exactly one year from now.

Come to think of it, Luca sure does get sick during the May Festival a lot. In the novel, he’s sick when Ruediger arrives too.

Ruediger learns belatedly of Luca’s existence a year from now, after the death of Luca’s father Jonas in a riding accident, and rushes to the Maibaum house to find him. In the novel, Luca suffers alone in the house, burning up with a fever. Judith doesn’t care whether Luca’s sick and goes out to enjoy the May Festival. Ruediger only realizes how Judith treats Luca when he finds her coming back to the house late at night, which he yells at her furiously for.

“You have no right to be his guardian. How could an adult be so irresponsible? I’m taking him with me!”

“That’s rich coming from the family who abandoned him before he was born! Do you have any idea what it cost me to raise him? I was treated like an unwed mother, and now I’m an old maid. And you think you’re going to take him away for free? Pay me for raising him. Pay me!”

Ruediger stares in contempt as Judith tries to sell her nephew. In the end, he agrees to give her the money if she stays out of Luca’s life forever.

“It’s as you said. I owe you a debt for taking him in and raising him. But now that I’ve paid, you have no excuse and no right to involve yourself in his affairs. Understood?”

Judith is elated at the wad of money Ruediger hands over. She’s free of the bane of her existence, and it’s made her rich. What could be better? After selling Luca, she feels like she’s gotten rid of a rotten tooth. Nevertheless, she spends her riches as quickly as she earned them.

After squandering the money, she lurks around Luca in Winterwald like a hungry hyena, hoping for another payout and causing all sorts of trouble. During this time, Ruediger earns Luca’s trust by standing up for him, and Luca gives up on any lingering attachment to Judith.

Well, this time I was Judith and I wasn’t going to let that happen. At the very least, I wanted to make sure Luca didn’t feel like I was selling him off when he went to Winterwald. In the novel, that’s a very painful moment for him. There was plenty of hardship ahead for Luca—I didn’t want to leave him with one more bad memory.

Thinking about his future, I suddenly began tearing up. I wiped my eyes with my hand. Of course, it’s fun to read about in a novel. It’s cathartic, even! But watching it unfold in the life of a living, breathing child right in front of me was upsetting.

Luca might be the victor in the end, but could his life be described as happy? It’s a life of tragedy, without the slightest chance to just be a child, from his earliest years until his youth is spent. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could have the memory of just one good year in that ill-fated life?

With one year left, I wouldn’t be able to turn things around completely and win him over in that time, but I’d do everything I could. Feed him well, take every chance to talk with him, and go on walks together. I’d made a real effort for the past month but he still hadn’t budged.

Actually, he was more suspicious of me, and he usually ran away, so I felt like I was seeing less and less of him. Now, it looked like he’d given in because he was sick. He came down with something yesterday evening and was up all night.

Holed up in bed, he couldn’t avoid my caring hand any longer. A weak body softens the heart as well, and I could tell Luca’s wariness was slowly waning. Even in a fit of fever, his breathing calmed when he looked over to see me by his side.

My heart ached to see that he couldn’t hold anything against his only family forever. As I thought about him bedridden back at the house, my stinging fingertips brought me back to herb gathering.

“Okay, we’re out here picking herbs anyway, I might as well pick a little more and buy some sausage,” I said to myself. Some good meat would be the best thing for a cold. Especially for a young child. I eagerly set about hauling more herbs.

* * *

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The dusk grew brighter and the sun began to glint between the leaves. I straightened my hunched back.

“Hnghhh,” a groan escaped my lips. My muscles popped as my spine straightened for the first time that morning. I thumped my lower back with a fist and looked down at my full basket of herbs with satisfaction.

“Time to go to the village,” I said aloud. I headed off with a light step, pleased with my work. Walking quickly down the dirt-packed road, I heard the sound of horseshoes approaching behind me. By the time I spun around, the carriage was already upon me.

“What the...?!” I yelled, as I took a step backward, away from the carriage brushing past me, and tripped over my own foot. I tumbled over onto my tailbone.

“Ouch! Oh, come on!” I shouted. I’d fallen right into the mud. My clothes were a sloppy mess. The carriage either didn’t know or didn’t care and just kept on going. When I lifted my head to look, it was already long gone.

I’d only gotten a short glimpse of its lavish exterior. It must’ve been some young nobleman on his way to see the festival.

“I guess the most expensive cars are always the rudest, no matter where you go,” I muttered.

I wished I could curse the man in the carriage to his face, but I had to settle for swearing aloud to myself. I brushed off my dirty clothes and trudged toward the village. I considered going home and changing, but that’d take too long.

The village square was already bustling, even this early in the morning, because it was the day of the May Festival. There were people tuning up instruments and others making last-minute repairs to a fence. In between them, women carrying wicker baskets called out for people to come eat.

Seeing everyone busy with the festival, I hunched my shoulders to avoid being noticed and rushed to the apothecary. I had all of Judith’s memories, but it still wouldn’t be comfortable to interact with anyone from the village. I wasn’t confident I’d make a convincing Judith. I tried to avoid anyone’s eyes, but it wasn’t possible to go completely undiscovered.

“Hey, Judith! Out hunting for a man this early? What happened to your clothes? New strategy?” The cackling voice was a mix of sarcasm and curiosity.

Judith was famous for that in Emden Town—trying to get her claws into a man that could make her life easier. Frankly, when a woman put too much stock in her looks and always thought she could do better until she was almost past marrying age, people said she was “pulling a Judith.”

Since when is twenty-seven old? She was still young! I let out an elongated sigh and turned to face the voice’s owner. A half-baked man stared back at me with a dumb grin.