As they stepped out of the forest's shadowy expanse, Victor Black's hand grasped Wednesday Addams', and they emerged back into the warm glow at the edge of the Harvest Festival square. The crowd's commotion and the sweet, cloying aroma enveloped them, creating a stark contrast with the eerie silence of the blood-stained forest behind.
Enid Sinclair paced anxiously, her short golden hair fluffed up under the lights. When she spotted the two figures, she rushed over, her face etched with concern.
"Wednesday! Vic! Are you both okay? Vic suddenly said you were in danger, and then he..." Her gaze darted rapidly between Vic and Wednesday, and her words trailed off.
She caught sight of Wednesday and, almost reflexively, snatched her hand from Vic's. She also noticed the lingering flush on Vic's face and Wednesday's slightly quicker breathing, a result of their energetic waltz.
A strange, unexplainable sense of déjà vu struck her, stirring up inexplicable, uncomfortable feelings in her constricted heart, but she couldn't grasp its source. "Are you... okay?" she finally repeated, her eyes filled with confusion and genuine concern.
Vic burst out laughing and, with perfect nonchalance, slung his arm around Enid's shoulders, pulling her into a half-embrace as he steered her toward the bustling celebration crowd. "No big deal, no big deal!
" His tone was as casual as discussing the weather.
"That was just some guy named Rowan, not quite right in the head. He wanted to kill Wednesday over some old, dusty prophecy paintings. The outcome? Bad luck. He ran into the real deal and got snapped by some monsters that came out of nowhere.
" He made a ripping motion with his free hand.
"Venom thought the monsters smelled nice enough and wanted a snack, but the other side didn't play fair. They even brought flashbangs, almost sending us both on our way." He shrugged, as if recounting a mundane everyday event.
"Forget all that! The festival isn't over! There's a Chocolate Fountain over there, it seems!" His lengthy, rapid speech contained too much information for Enid's brain to process immediately.
She could only be led by Vic, her attention unconsciously captured by the "Chocolate Fountain." It wasn't until Vic pushed a soggy ice cream cone with thick chocolate sauce and sprinkled sugar crystals into her hand that she instinctively took a big bite.
The freezing cold and cloying sweetness exploded in her mouth, and this intense sensory stimulation seemed to revive her brain. She jerked her head up, her eyes wide, gasping as she almost choked on the ice cream.
"Wait!" she finally grasped the crucial point, her voice shooting up to a disbelieving soprano.
"Do you mean... in the forest! Right now! There's... a body?! Rowan's body?!" Wednesday stood beside them, arms crossed, watching with a cold gaze.
Only then did she speak, her voice calm and biting: "Remarkable reaction speed. It seems sugar can indeed activate certain dormant neurons." Enid had no time for Wednesday's sarcasm.
She grasped Vic's arm, her nails unconsciously lengthening and digging into his jacket: "Oh God! Someone's dead! We need to call the police! No! We need to tell Principal Weems first! What about you...
are you guys okay? Are you hurt? What about the monsters?" She was so flustered that she stumbled over her words, her gaze darting back and forth between them, searching for injuries.
"Calm down, relax, Enid." Vic patted her back and casually added another spoonful of chocolate to the ice cream in her hand.
"We ran into Bianca on the way. She'll handle informing Principal Weems. As for the monsters? They ran. But don't worry," he grinned, showing his pointed teeth, a excited, anticipatory glint in his eye.
"They won't get far." Enid looked at his completely nonchalant expression, then at Wednesday's indifferent face beside him, which seemed as though she had just been out for a stroll.
A deep sense of helplessness washed over her. These two people...
did their perception of "death" differ from hers?
"But... but..." she tried to say more, but Vic cut her off.
"No buts!" Vic suddenly leaned in, his face close to the ice cream in her hand, inhaling deeply with an appreciative expression.
"Wow, is this Black Venezuelan Chocolate? The rich, aromatic layers, the slight fruit acidity, the long finish... it's exquisite! Hurry up and try it! It's not good once it gets warm!" Venom also poked its small head out of Vic's collar, gazing at the ice cream, its large white eyes filled with longing: "Share a bite?
Just one? I can hold the cone for you with my tentacles!" Enid looked at the hopeful faces of the person (and symbiote) waiting for her ice cream review and lost all her energy.
She glanced down at the almost-melted sweet chocolate ice cream in her hand, filled with guilt, and then thought of the cold, mangled corpse in the forest. In the end, she quietly, firmly, took another bite of the ice cream.
Forget it. Even if the sky were to collapse, she had to finish this ice cream first.
At least for now, the three of them stood there safely and soundly—although two of them might be psychologically unsalvageable. She sighed, savoring the slight comfort brought by the melting chocolate on her tongue, and decided to push the blood and monsters to the back of her mind for the time being.
After all, as Vic said, the festival wasn't over yet. She just didn't notice that when she looked down to eat her ice cream, Vic and Wednesday exchanged a brief, meaningful glance.
The glance had no trace of ease, only the sharpness of ice and the excitement before a hunt. The game had just begun.
The next morning. The dormitory was filled with the fresh scent of pine, forming a strange mixture with the usual sweet chocolate taste and the faint, metallic smell of blood.
Vic was very quiet, sitting on the edge of his "throne" - the toilet, his head bowed, his expression focused.
He held a small, sharp carving knife in his hand, carefully guiding it across a piece of boxwood. The wood shavings fell like fine snow, slowly revealing the clear, scaly shape of an alligator's head.
Wednesday sat on her own bed, but her gaze occasionally drifted to the carving in Vic's hand and his very steady hand. It was hard to imagine that this person, who usually appeared hyperactive and rough enough to raise the roof, also had a calm, peaceful, and very patient side, and possessed extraordinary skills.
"What, Rowan is still alive?" Vic asked without looking up, his tone flat as if discussing wood grain.
"That's interesting. Last night, we danced a wonderful waltz on his four-part, still-smoking body." He blew the wood shavings off the detailed part of the carving.
"True," Wednesday's voice was as cold as ice.
"The police didn't find anything in the forest. Then, this morning, he appeared at the principal's office door to submit a withdrawal request, smiling and waving at me, looking rosy-cheeked and behaving normally.
" She tapped her fingertips lightly on the edge of the bed.
"Everyone thinks I've gone crazy or am using the most ridiculous lie to cover up a failed escape attempt." "Wow." Vic finally looked up.
His eyes, which usually sparkled with manic light, were now clear and deep. He tilted his head and smiled.
"Or maybe we just had too much fun and shared a little... hallucination?" The look Wednesday returned was like a knife tempered in ice.
"Oh, fine, you really don't have a sense of humor," Vic shrugged, lowering his head again.
The tip of the knife precisely outlined the cold pupil of the alligator. "Setting aside the small possibility of collective mental instability, we only have two possibilities." His tone became calm and methodical, complementing the precision of his carving.
"One: The person torn apart by the monster in the forest last night, the person who tried to kill you first, was a fake Rowan. The one who bounced back this morning is the real article." "Two: Rowan is really dead, deader than dead.
The Rowan who could talk, laugh, and wave this morning... is a fake." The carving knife paused for a moment.
"Our academy has some Shapeshifters," Vic noted with coldness.
"Achieving flawless imitation is not difficult. By the way, my dear headmistress aunt—Ms. Larissa Weems—is one of the foremost among the Shapeshifters. She can even change her clothes perfectly along with herself.
" He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as he stared at Wednesday.
"And to prevent damage to the academy's reputation and avoid the shocking scandal of 'a student dying horribly in the forest outside school,' it's highly likely she would personally intervene, or assign another Shapeshifter to impersonate Rowan and completely bury the incident.
" "This Rowan is withdrawing, right? Perfect. Now, whether he's dead or not, he'll disappear from our sight." He placed the carving knife and the nearly finished wooden alligator head, which looked menacing, brushing wood shavings from his hand, and revealed a smile mixed with arrogance and curiosity.
"So, Miss Wednesday Addams? How's this 'Watson's' cut rate... decent?"