In the days that followed, a rare peace descended over Nevermore Academy.
No explosions, no monster attacks, no new murder mysteries. Even the wind in the forest seemed to have softened its howl.
Given Vic's bold confession, his relationship with the two girls had advanced at breakneck speed.
Enid had launched a direct offensive. Her approach was straightforward and warm, like the steadily rising heat of the summer sun.
She had progressed from tentatively holding his hand to natural, lingering embraces.
Today, she had escalated further. While Vic was buried in his copy of 1000 Magical Potions: From Entry Level to Early Grave, she had launched a sneak attack, planting a quick kiss—sweet with the scent of chocolate—right on his cheek.
After succeeding, she would always hop away with a blush, her eyes sparkling like a bear cub that had just stolen honey—happy, yet with a shy sort of provocation.
Vic would usually touch the spot on his cheek, returning a habitual, slightly goofy, and brilliant grin.
But his heart would race, just a little, at this pure, undisguised affection.
Serum's influence had faded, but the warmth it had amplified and allowed him to feel so clearly remained, rooted firmly in his heart.
However, compared to Enid's "Sunshine Offensive," Wednesday Addams' method of expression was far more destructive.
Literally.
"Wednesday, what are you doing?!"
A scream shattered the quiet of the dorm room.
Enid watched, dumbfounded, as the scene unfolded before her.
Without warning, Wednesday had grabbed Vic by the collar of his shirt and yanked him downward with surprising force.
Caught off guard, Vic stumbled, bending forward.
Immediately, Wednesday went up on her tiptoes. With surgical precision and refusing any objection, she sealed his lips with hers.
This wasn't Enid's gentle, tentative touch.
This was a real kiss, dripping with gothic proclamation. It was brief, forceful, and even carried a hint of analytical probing, as if she were completing a step in an experiment.
Vic's brain crashed. Blue screen of death.
All his theoretical experience, all those smooth, flirtatious lines he usually tossed around effortlessly—evaporated.
He could clearly see the tiny, fine hairs on Wednesday's pale cheek, inches from his own.
He could smell her faint scent—like an ancient crypt mixed with dried roses.
He could see the microscopic tremble of her thick eyelashes.
Victor Black, whose combat experience in romance was exactly zero, stood frozen like a statue, even his fingertips stiff.
Wednesday released him and took a half-step back, observing Vic's completely rebooting expression.
She raised a hand, her fingertip brushing the corner of her own mouth with lightning speed. Her voice was flat, carrying that signature, academic calmness she used when dissecting a specimen.
"Undoubtedly. Direct osculation is an effective method of expressing emotion and establishing territorial rights, despite being highly unsanitary from a microbiological standpoint."
Her gaze swept over Vic's still-dazed face. The corner of her mouth twitched upward by a single pixel, revealing something close to satisfaction.
"It appears that The Psychology of Adolescent Courtship, recommended by that third-rate therapist, is not entirely without merit."
"You... you... you..."
Enid pointed a shaking finger at Wednesday. She was flushed red with agitation, unable to form a coherent sentence.
She was completely floored by this direct, almost savage maneuver.
Frustration and a tidal wave of competitive spirit washed over her.
"Fine! I can do that too!"
As if making a solemn vow, Enid lunged forward. She grabbed Vic's other collar, trying to yank him down to replicate Wednesday's move.
However, her strength wasn't quite on par with Wednesday's, and Vic was still in a semi-petrified state, so he didn't budge immediately.
Just as she stood on her tiptoes, gathering her courage, staring at Vic's lips mere inches away, her heart pounding like a drum—she froze, shyness stopping her from closing the gap.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The dorm door was rapped with a leisurely rhythm.
All three froze, snapping their heads toward the door in unison.
Bianca was leaning lazily against the doorframe, her silver eyes scanning the bizarre scene with amusement:
A catatonic Vic, a bright-red Enid clutching one side of his collar, and an emotionless Wednesday standing on the other side with her arms crossed.
"Sorry," Bianca's voice held a hint of a smile, as if she were enjoying a particularly good play. "Am I... interrupting something?"
She waved a brightly colored flyer in her hand, walked in, and casually placed it on the dresser near the door.
"Preview for Parents' Weekend," she explained. Her gaze swept over the trio again, lips curving. "Please... continue."
With that, she turned elegantly and left as silently as she had arrived, leaving the air in the room to solidify once more.
Enid's unstoppable courage had been shattered by the interruption. Her hand loosened its grip on Vic's collar.
Her face was burning so hot it could smoke a ham. Her eyes darted away; she no longer had the nerve to finish the kiss.
Vic finally seemed to reboot from his system crash.
He looked at Enid, who was shrinking into herself from embarrassment. Suddenly, he blinked, and the corner of his mouth hooked up into that familiar, mischievous smirk.
He lowered his head and quickly pecked Enid on her soft lips.
A touch, then separation.
"Vic!"
Enid slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and round. She stared at Vic, her gaze filled with disbelief and a sudden, brilliant explosion of joy.
Vic just winked at her playfully, as if he had merely completed a trivial little experiment of his own.
To mask the sudden, sweet, suffocating atmosphere—or perhaps to cool down his own overheated CPU—Vic cleared his throat and turned to pick up the flyer Bianca had left.
His eyes scanned the colorful graphics and the bold, oversized font.
"Oh, sweet mother of..."
"Parents' Weekend?! That sounds absolutely fucking terrible!!!"
"Oh, wait! Maybe not that bad!" Vic slapped his forehead, his tone turning light. "My parents aren't coming at all!"
His "I just remembered" act was as exaggerated as a bad stage play.
"Why?" Enid blinked her blue eyes, asking curiously. "Are they busy?"
Vic fell silent for a beat.
"Who knows?" He shrugged, his smile still beaming.
"I haven't 'seen' them in years. Maybe..." He dragged out the vowel, adopting a tone of forced casualness and self-mockery.
"Maybe they don't want to travel all this way to see a crazy son and his... uh... black, sticky, parasitic friend?"
"HEY!" A low growl, dripping with offense, resonated directly from inside Vic's chest.
"Sorry, buddy!" Vic apologized with zero sincerity, inching toward the door as he spoke. "How about I buy you a chocolate cone as an apology?"
"Make it a double scoop," Venom's muffled voice replied, seemingly bribed for the moment.
"Sure! No problem!" Vic grinned, turning the door handle. "Be right back!"
Click.
The door shut behind him, sealing that overly bright smile outside.
The dorm room fell into a brief, delicate silence.
Enid frowned slightly, her gaze lingering on the closed door, a trace of confusion and worry remaining on her face.
She turned to Wednesday, who had been unusually silent throughout the exchange. "He was just..."
"A clumsy deflection."
Wednesday's cold voice cut her off. Her dark eyes held no ripples, as if she were simply stating an observed fact.
"Obviously, Mr. Black has no desire to discuss anything related to his parents."
Enid paused.
She thought back to Vic just now—the exaggerated smile, the breezy tone, and...
And those eyes.
Those eyes, always dancing with madness, mockery, or intense emotion. In the moment he said those words, something else had flickered deep within them.
Something that contradicted that brilliant smile entirely.
"But..." Enid's voice dropped lower. "Even though he was smiling... I felt like... his eyes were crying."
Wednesday paused in the middle of adjusting her black mesh glove. The hesitation was microscopic, almost imperceptible.
She didn't argue.
She simply shifted her gaze from the door to the window, looking out at the perpetually gloomy sky over Nevermore Academy.
The room fell silent again.
Only the faint sound of the wind outside, and the satisfied, subtle grumbling of a symbiote temporarily appeased by ice cream, could be heard.
Outside in the hallway, the boy who seemed to have fled the conversation was leaning his back against the cold door.
The careless, happy-go-lucky smile had vanished from his face, replaced by an exhausted blankness.
He tilted his head back, resting it gently against the wood. His Adam's apple bobbed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.
When he opened them again, that brief flash of fragility had been shoved back down into the depths.
He forced the corners of his mouth up, plastering on that habitual, slightly goofy grin, and started walking toward the campus convenience store.
"Double scoop chocolate cone..."
He muttered under his breath, as if that were the only thing in the world that mattered.