Wednesday forcibly suppressed the flutter in her heart.
A white me? Could it be...
With calm but undeniable force, she "peeled" Vic off of her.
Winnie, who had been sandwiched in the middle and nearly turned into a werewolf pup pancake, finally managed to gasp for air.
Wednesday now had an unobstructed view of the white figure that had caused the commotion.
It was indeed her.
Standing there was her ancestor, one of the earliest legendary psychics of the Addams family—Goody Addams.
Her glaringly pristine white dress clashed violently with the surrounding gothic atmosphere, yet she possessed an undeniable air of authority.
"Goody Addams?"
Wednesday's cool voice carried a note of confirmation.
"Correct. It is I."
The white apparition, or spirit, responded. Her voice was steady and flat, yet it carried a sense of age that traversed time.
"Uh, you even gave your 'clone' a name?"
Vic's curiosity piqued. He tentatively reached out a hand, wanting to poke this white Wednesday to see what would happen.
His reward was a gaze from Goody as cold as a scalpel—
The warning and chill in that look were all too familiar to Vic. It was essentially Wednesday: Plus Edition.
"If you do not wish for your claw to wander the spirit realm for eternity..."
Goody's voice held zero fluctuation.
"Retract it immediately."
Whoosh. Vic hid his hand behind his back instantly. Subconsciously, he hugged Wednesday again, muttering:
"Okay, confirmed. This white one is definitely the evil clone..."
Wednesday shot a sidelong glance at Vic's arm wrapped around her.
"Her words are also my intent."
She just hadn't planned on executing it... yet.
"Okay, this is too weird."
Vic let go, looking back and forth between the black and white Addamses with confusion.
"Which one of you is good and which one is evil?"
Goody's spirit seemed to roll her eyes imperceptibly.
"I truly cannot comprehend how you could fall for a... scatterbrained creature like him."
Wednesday remained expressionless. "Sometimes, I am also confused."
But her gaze never left Vic.
"Whoa! Is she your twin sister?"
Mavis excitedly tried to pat Goody on the shoulder, only to find her hand passing straight through the white figure, as if touching nothing but cold mist.
"Who... who are the three of you talking to?!"
Enid watched Vic, Wednesday, and Mavis perform a scene with thin air and finally couldn't hold back the question.
Her eyes were filled with confusion and a hint of unease. Beside her, Winnie, Dennis, and Johnny looked equally baffled.
"Wait!" Vic turned his head in surprise.
"You can't see this white Wednesday? She's standing right here! Super conspicuous!"
Enid, Winnie, Dennis, and Johnny shook their heads in unison, their expressions collectively saying, "What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"
"She is my ancestor, Goody Addams."
Wednesday explained, her tone as flat as if she were introducing the weather.
"But why can only the three of us see her? Why is your ancestor... appearing here?" Mavis asked curiously.
Goody's spirit spoke up proactively. Her voice resonated directly within the minds of Vic, Wednesday, and Mavis, carrying an ethereal echo:
"Every powerful psychic in the Addams bloodline has a designated spirit guide. Usually, only those with sufficient mental strength can see us."
Her gaze swept seemingly unintentionally over Vic, pausing briefly as if weighing her words, before settling on a relatively polite description:
"Or, individuals with abnormally active mental states and unique frequencies."
She swallowed the word "psychopath" that was on the tip of her tongue, deciding it would be impolite to describe her descendant's boyfriend that way after several centuries.
Goody's voice rang directly in their minds, fast and clear, carrying an undeniable urgency.
"The leader of the Plague Doctors has disguised himself as a student and is mixed into the crowd at Nevermore. Just now, when your boyfriend held the little wolf girl to have Laurel 'smell' her, Winnie's identity as a pure-blood werewolf was recognized."
"What!"
---
Ten minutes ago.
In the deep, dimly lit corridors of Nevermore Academy, flickering candles cast dancing, ghostly shadows on the walls.
Laurel Gates was walking briskly. Her mask of gentle warmth had long been discarded, leaving only cold calculation and a hint of imperceptible anxiety.
A figure looking like a student blocked her path. His posture was casual, yet it perfectly sealed off her route.
"Is there something you need?"
Laurel quickly plastered on her habitual fake smile of concern, her voice soft.
"It's me."
The "student" spoke. His voice carried a strange hum as if passing through a filter, the tone flat and emotionless, yet it sent a chill down Laurel's spine instantly.
"Plans have changed."
The "student"—Dr. 077—continued. "Go to the Crackstone Crypt immediately. Resurrect Crackstone ahead of schedule."
"Ahead of schedule?"
Laurel's smile froze on her face, her voice taking on a sharp edge of disbelief.
"It's not the Blood Moon yet! The resurrection ritual cannot succeed! There isn't enough energy!"
Beneath Dr. 077's disguise, his gaze seemed to hold a cold mockery. He dropped the bomb flatly:
"That werewolf pup you just held is a pure-blood. You idiot."
Laurel's pupils constricted violently, the blood draining from her face.
"Her nose can smell every dirty deed you've committed since childhood, right down to the color of the underwear you have on today."
There was no emotional fluctuation in Dr. 077's tone, yet it was more humiliating than any sneer.
He watched Laurel's expression crumble into panic, observing her like an insect trapped in a petri dish. Coldly, he tossed her a palm-sized, intricately structured metal device and a small vial of blood.
"This can simulate the radiant energy of the Blood Moon. It is sufficient to support the ritual. I have designed it... so that even an imbecile like you can operate it."
He didn't bother to hide the contempt in his words.
"The blood of the Addams family is also prepared for you. It is truly incredible that you did not prepare such a crucial material in advance."
"As for me..."
Before Dr. 077 could finish, several more students wearing Nevermore uniforms walked out of the shadows in the corridor.
Their steps were perfectly synchronized, faces expressionless, eyes hollow—like mass-produced puppets.
They spoke simultaneously, their voices overlapping with a hair-raising synchronization: "I will stall them for a moment."
---
Now.
Hearing Goody's words, Wednesday immediately understood what it meant—
They had startled the snake, and the enemy was about to make a desperate move!
"We must go to the Crackstone Crypt immediately!"
Wednesday's voice was decisive. She looked at Vic.
"They are undoubtedly going to force the resurrection early!"
"Whoa," Vic whistled. Instead of fear, his face showed an extremely excited, eager grin.
"Pulling the boss early? I like it! Dungeon speed-run starts now!"
"Go!" Wednesday wasted no time, turning to sprint toward the location of the crypt.
"Wednesday? Finally found you. Principal Weems needs you in her office; your parents are waiting for you there."
A student, panting heavily, blocked Wednesday's path. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead; he seemed to have been searching for a long time.
"Come with me quickly," he urged between breaths. "The Principal is waiting."
The student had barely taken a few steps toward Wednesday—
Schwing!
A pitch-black blade flashed with cold light, precisely slicing the student's head off.
The head flew through the air in an arc. From the severed neck, dazzling electrical sparks burst forth, and exposed wires crackled and popped.
"How did you discover it?"
The head, still flying in mid-air, actually spoke. Its synthesized mechanical voice held no ripples of emotion.