Chapter 13
Thrilled, my foot. It’s so obviously a lie.
Listening to Rüdiger talk, you’d think I hadn’t just allowed him to use my name but had practically given him permission to date me.
If there had been even the slightest hint of excitement in his voice, I might have thought, Could it be?
But no—his tone was completely flat, without a shred of inflection. The fact that he wasn’t even good at sweet talk yet stubbornly forced himself to say it was almost funny.
Every time someone who seemed infinitely far removed from honeyed words, someone with such a blunt face, said something so cringeworthy, goosebumps ran up my arms and refused to leave.
The original novel’s image of him only added to that sense of dissonance. In the story told from Luca’s point of view, Rüdiger was endlessly mature, heavy with gravitas, and taciturn.
On top of that, he was a former soldier—didn’t that come with a fixed, almost rigid image?
He was also a man who had no need to flatter others in the first place.
Was he trying to get something out of me? Even so, this kind of roundabout approach didn’t suit him at all…
If he wanted something, Rüdiger Winterwald’s style was to say so plainly and pay the corresponding price.
His handsome looks, the way he casually tossed out remarks like this now and then—none of it felt like the Rüdiger from the original work.
But right now, I didn’t have the energy to dwell on his strange comments. I slumped back against the sofa and nodded out of habit.
Truth be told, my constant fatigue was partly because I hadn’t been sleeping well.
After all, on this train trip to Winterwald, there was supposed to be an assassination event!
Of course, nothing major happened—the assassin would be subdued almost immediately by Rüdiger, and the attempt would fail…
Still, just imagining a shootout unfolding right in front of me made my heart pound.
At least the assassination scene happens midway through the journey. If it had struck right at the start… yikes.
I shook my head.
The early part of The Master of the Winter Forest flowed like a healing story.
After suffering abuse from Aunt Judith, Luca goes to Winterwald and, with the support of his uncle and grandfather, grows into a dignified young lord.
The elements of a revenge drama only truly appeared after that. After all, the higher you climb, the harder you fall.
The Winter Forest lifts Luca to the very top—then, at the peak of his happiness, shoves him off without warning.
Rüdiger’s death, followed by assassination attempts on the way back to school…
The assassination attempt on this train trip was foreshadowing for the many trials to come.
It’s an event that’ll pass without much trouble even if I do nothing, but if we manage to capture the assassin here, things might go more smoothly later on.
Judging by the circumstances, the assassin was almost certainly sent by Rüdiger’s cousin, Franz. But in the original story, he died during the subjugation, leaving no physical evidence to trace the mastermind.
If only we could capture him alive…
I let out a small sigh and steeled myself.
For now, I’ll just keep the idea of capturing the assassin in mind. If I get too carried away from the start and Luca ends up hurt, that’d be a disaster.
With a loud blast of its horn, the train’s wheels began to turn slowly. The scenery outside the window, which had been standing still, gradually started to change.
Before long, Luca returned. His expression wasn’t very good. I asked, worried,
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing,” he replied curtly, plopping down onto the sofa. He showed no sign of wanting to elaborate.
I’d thought we’d grown a bit closer, but seeing him clamp his mouth shut whenever it came to his own affairs made it seem otherwise. It stung a little.
I’m the one who got dragged here because of you, you know.
Still, life itself was comfortable and abundant, so it felt wrong to resent Luca outright. Aside from the ever-present threat of death, it was practically the perfect unemployed lifestyle.
My month of living as Judith had had a big impact, too. I’d learned firsthand that living as a commoner in this world wasn’t easy at all.
Doing laundry without a washing machine, cooking without a gas stove, cleaning without a vacuum cleaner—living like that versus a life where maids did everything for you but assassination threats loomed…
Before meeting Rüdiger, I’d told myself that even rolling around in a dung heap, life was still better than death. But once my body had gotten used to comfort, I couldn’t bring myself to go back.
You only live once—maybe living short and intense isn’t such a bad idea?
I worked hard to rationalize it all, my mental gears spinning so furiously my head felt warm.
In the meantime, the train passed beyond Neuhalt, and soon a wide-open lakeside came into view, sunlight sparkling across the water and filling the window.
I sat there for a long while, lost in the scenery.
But even that grew boring eventually. I turned my gaze back to Rüdiger and Luca.
Rüdiger was reading a newspaper taken from the rack in the compartment, and Luca, seated beside him, was doing the same.
They didn’t look much alike as uncle and nephew, but the way they seriously read the paper was identical.
What were they reading so intently? I asked indifferently,
“Is it interesting, Luca?”
“I’m just reading it, that’s all,” Luca replied, a crease forming between his brows. He looked so serious that I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
But wait… could Luca read?
The Luca Judith remembered hadn’t even properly learned his letters. In fact, there’d been an episode in the novel where he learned to read only after arriving in Winterwald.
“When did you learn how to read? You never told me,” I said.
“…I can read letters, at least. I’m just reading,” Luca answered nonchalantly.
But I didn’t miss the fleeting look of Oops that crossed his face the moment I asked.
And for someone supposedly just practicing, the way his eyes moved across the page was far too natural—like he was smoothly reading line after line.
There were plenty of suspicious things, but I had nothing I could really press him on.
After all, the one who had completely neglected Luca’s education was none other than Judith—me.
“Read it out loud. Let’s see how well you read.”
“Um…”
Luca frowned and gripped the newspaper tightly with both hands.
Judging only by his appearance, he looked like a child who had just learned his letters and was earnestly practicing reading.
Compared to how skillfully he’d been reading earlier, it was all the more ridiculous.
He began to stumble through the words.
“Wat… foam…? Th-this… Winterwald lady’s dream? The death of Jonas Winterwald—the truth behind it?”
At the sudden mention of the Winterwald name, I thought Luca was joking.
“Luca, don’t mess around. Read it properly.”
“I’m serious.”
“…What?”
Why would a newspaper be running that kind of gossip? Jonas wasn’t some important national figure—just a duke’s heir and a scoundrel, at that.
Dumbfounded, I held out my hand for the paper. Luca shrugged and handed it over.
I quickly skimmed just the headline on the front page. Thanks to Judith’s memories, I could read it smoothly.
“The Winterwald Successor—Is It Indeed Rüdiger Winterwald? Concerningly Close Ties Between the Military and the Ducal House.”
That much was tame. What followed was an absolute mess.
“What Jonas’s Women Say: Jonas Winterwald.”
“The Star of High Society, Jida!”
I hurriedly folded the newspaper as if crumpling it. Then I said firmly to Luca,
“Kids shouldn’t be reading things like this.”
What kind of paper was this, plastered entirely with gossip and speculation? Grumbling, I turned to Rüdiger.
“Why is something like this even here?”
“It’s hardly worthy of being called a newspaper,” he replied, “but many nobles do enjoy reading it.”
So they’d put it in the compartment out of necessity. Fine, that I could accept.
But that didn’t excuse leaving it there while a child read it right next to him.
I rolled the easily combustible trash in my hands and smacked it lightly against the table.
“Still, you can’t just leave it when there’s a kid reading this beside you. It’s bad for his emotional development.”
“Hmm… This is the sort of thing everyone grows up reading… I suppose I didn’t think it through. My apologies.”
Rüdiger looked a little flustered, as if he hadn’t expected me to scold him, and trailed off awkwardly.
Well, when you think about it, in 1950s America they’d even sold atomic energy experiment kits with actual uranium as children’s toys.
Compared to that, a gossip newspaper might be mild.
Even so, there was no way I was letting Luca read it again.
With a sigh, I rummaged through the magazine rack. Thankfully, I found something suitable for him.
It was a children’s storybook—thin, hardbound, decorated with gold leaf and brilliant colors.
