The hooded man stumbled and ran wildly through the dimly lit woods.
The crunch of rotting branches under his feet mixed with his own heavy panting.
He glanced back in panic every now and then, terrified someone would suddenly flash out from behind a tree.
When he turned his head forward again, confirming he was temporarily safe, a shoe sole—
Black leather, carrying unquestionable force, expanded rapidly in his vision.
THUD!
A muffled impact.
The man didn't even have time to see his attacker clearly.
He felt a sharp, sour pain in the bridge of his nose, stars dancing before his eyes. With a yelp, he fell backward, landing heavily on the leaf-littered dirt.
Wednesday landed lightly. Her black skirt swirled open like bat wings before settling down.
Expressionless, she was about to step forward and examine who this sneaky stalker was, when she heard Vic's familiar voice coming from diagonally behind her, filled with an eagerness to claim credit:
"Wednesday, I see him! Watch me catch him!"
Wednesday's slender brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Catch who?
Hasn't the man I just kicked down already lost the ability to move?
The thought had just flashed through her mind when she felt a force—not small, but certainly not gentle—collide with her from the side.
Caught off guard, Wednesday tripped over a tangled tree root. Her gasp choked in her throat as she was tackled onto the damp, soft grass.
"Vic!"
Wednesday knew who the source of this reckless collision was without looking.
Her voice was laced with ice shards. Even lying on the ground, her posture maintained a strange restraint and calm.
"Ha! Gotcha! Wednesday is totally going to praise me!"
Vic still wore an excited and smug smile, his arms maintaining a hugging posture.
It wasn't until he had fully pinned the person down that he saw clearly who was beneath him. The smile froze on his face, and his voice jammed:
"Uh... Wednesday?"
"Mmhmm."
Wednesday lay on her back on the grass, staring calmly up at Vic's face, which was written with "I messed up." Her tone was cold enough to freeze the surrounding air.
"Excellent work, Mr. Black. You are truly outstanding."
"Sorry! Wednesday! Are you okay?!"
Vic finally reacted completely. Flustered, he tried to push himself up with his hands.
However, the woodland soil was slippery and covered in moss. His palm slipped. Instead of getting up, he fell forward solidly again, this time pressing seamlessly against Wednesday.
A strong scent—warm sunshine mixed with a faint, sweet smell of chocolate—instantly enveloped Wednesday.
She could even clearly feel Vic's accelerated heartbeat from panic beneath his chest, and the burning body heat of a young boy transmitting through their thin clothes.
A very faint blush, unnoticed even by herself, rose on the edge of Wednesday's pale cheek. She couldn't help but suspect: Is this guy doing this on purpose?
"So—"
A voice thick with nasal congestion, filled with helplessness and exhaustion, sounded from the side, breaking the weird and awkward atmosphere.
"You kicked me to the ground just so I could watch you and your boyfriend... bond on the grass?"
Wednesday and Vic turned their heads simultaneously.
The man Wednesday had kicked down was sitting up, clutching his clearly swollen and red nose.
His hood had slipped off during the fall and subsequent movement, revealing a face they both knew—
Slightly weathered, bearing traces of long-term fatigue. It was the former sheriff, Tyler's father, Donovan Galpin.
He looked at the two of them tangled like pretzels with a complex expression.
"Donovan?"
Vic exclaimed in surprise. He finally rolled off Wednesday completely, scrambling to get up in a fluster, then reached out to pull Wednesday up.
Wednesday ignored Vic's hand. She flipped herself up nimbly, her movement fluid as a black cat ready to pounce.
She patted the grass clippings and dirt off her dress, looking sharply at Donovan.
"You were sneaking around a murder scene and ran as soon as you saw me. Explain."
Donovan stood up using the rough bark of a tree for support. His fingers dug deep into the cracks of the bark, as if trying to draw strength from the old tree.
"Carl Bradbury was my friend."
Donovan's voice was low, carrying a trace of imperceptible tremor.
"We were investigating a case together. That is why he was killed."
A trace of sorrow flashed in his eyes—fleeting, but incredibly real.
Unfortunately, Wednesday did not empathize.
She stood still, her black skirt motionless, her pale face showing no change in expression.
"I will not participate in your melodrama."
Wednesday's voice was cool. Her meaning was clear—get to the point.
Donovan shook his head with a bitter smile, realizing that any emotional appeal was futile in front of this girl.
"Bradbury discovered something. Something that could affect outcasts. We were just starting to understand the situation."
"Is it related to what you were discussing with my Aunt Larissa at the café earlier?"
Vic interjected, his eyes moving back and forth between Wednesday and Donovan, trying to piece together the full picture.
Donovan hesitated, his gaze scanning the surroundings involuntarily:
"I don't know. Just some associations. Perhaps you could..."
His words stopped abruptly.
Donovan's pupils constricted slightly, his gaze fixing on a withered branch in the distance.
Vic and Wednesday followed his line of sight—
A one-eyed crow stood quietly on the branch. Its white eye looked like a bottomless glass bead, staring at them motionless.
"Never mind."
Donovan suddenly changed his tone. His shoulders slumped, as if he aged several years in an instant.
"Larissa was right. I can't involve you kids. This isn't something you can handle."
He shook his head and limped away in the opposite direction of the crow. The sound of his footsteps rustling on dead leaves gradually faded.
Vic watched Donovan disappear into the dense woods, then turned to Wednesday, lowering his voice:
"Wednesday, what do you think Donovan is investigating?"
He moved closer to Wednesday. Instead of holding her hand directly like before, he tentatively touched the back of her hand with his pinky finger.
His gaze was full of expectation, like a large dog waiting for a treat.
Wednesday didn't seem to notice Vic's careful touch. Her gaze remained on the direction where the crow had vanished.
"I do not know. But clearly, he has encountered trouble."
She analyzed calmly. "He will come to find us soon. Stuff a few Shadow Khan into his shadow just in case."
With that, Wednesday turned and walked toward the school.
Vic froze for a moment, lowering his head, unable to hide the disappointment on his face.
However, just as he prepared to follow, a cool hand suddenly took his left hand.
Vic looked down, surprised to see Wednesday still looking straight ahead, as if the act of holding hands had nothing to do with her.
But the hand gripping his tightly was undeniably real.
A goofy smile climbed back onto Vic's face.
He quickened his pace to walk side-by-side with Wednesday, his fingers adjusting quietly to interlace with hers.