On the grass, Victor sat there crying, clutching his nose, with a hint of crimson visible between his fingers.
Enid was hurriedly wiping it with a handkerchief, her tone filled with helpless sympathy: "Oh, Victor... I feel for you, but honestly, you clearly brought this on yourself."
Victor's eyes were watery—it was unclear if it was from the pain or if he really wanted to cry—and his voice had a heavy nasal tone:
"This is nothing like the romantic reunion I imagined... I thought Wednesday would at most give me a tongue-lashing or glance at me like I was trash..."
As he spoke, he vividly imitated Wednesday's usual cold and mocking manner, tilting his chin up, his eyes glazed over, the corners of his mouth pulled down, and said in a flat tone:
"Stupid, noisy creature, your very existence is a profanity against silence."
His exaggerated imitation made Enid burst out laughing.
Meanwhile, Wednesday silently clenched her fists until her knuckles made a slight 'click' sound. Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she seriously considered whether to add another punch for the sake of symmetry.
Victor continued to tearfully recount his tragic experiences:
"Banned from the race... beaten up... and most importantly... I have to write a fifty-thousand-word thesis... Fifty thousand words! On how to prove that exploding chocolate balls are environmentally friendly and harmless! How is anyone supposed to write that!"
Victor, who had originally been fake-crying to gain sympathy, was suddenly overcome with grief at the thought of the immense pressure of that fifty-thousand-word thesis.
The fake crying turned into real crying, and he grew more heartbroken as he went on, finally wailing loudly and drawing the attention of other students nearby.
Wednesday felt an unprecedented headache as she watched the increasing number of curious gazes drawn by the crying.
This experience of being stared at like a rare animal in a zoo was more nauseating than listening to Victor recite ten love poems in a row.
She needed to terminate this public performance immediately. She decisively reached out and pinched Victor's still-howling mouth shut.
"Fine," her voice sounded like it was squeezed out from between her teeth.
"You win. I'll go to that damn celebration party. So, now, immediately, shut up!"
Victor's voice stopped abruptly.
With his mouth pinched, he could only blink his tear-filled eyes and ask unclearly, "Reawwy? (Really?) No wying? (Not lying?) Won't wun away? (Won't run away halfway?)"
Wednesday let go and gave him a cold look: "I never break my word."
Victor's expression instantly changed from gloom to sunshine. With tears and a nosebleed still on his face, he broke into a massive, excessively bright smile; the speed of his change was staggering.
He even excitedly high-fived the nearby Enid: "Yay!"
Wednesday watched the two high-fiving in celebration and suddenly realized what had happened.
So... she had been set up by a lunatic and a naive girl working together?
This feeling... was truly unprecedentedly absurd... The victory party was just as terrible as Wednesday had predicted.
Sickeningly sweet chocolate cake that was almost cloying enough to kill someone.
Low-quality, unlimited beer.
Stupid, cheap-looking colored ribbons.
Garish balloons floating everywhere in annoying numbers.
And... two drunks!
At night, Wednesday exerted every ounce of strength to drag the two drunks (Victor and Enid), who were clinging to her like octopuses, back to the dorm.
"Venom," she panted, speaking to the puddle-like mass that was Victor's body, "can't you help out?"
Venom slowly poked a head out from Victor's shoulder. His entire form was limp, his long tongue lolling out, and his eyes were dazed: "What? Uh... I'm so full... chocolate... dizzy..."
"Never mind," Wednesday said expressionlessly as she pressed the mass of black substance back into Victor's body, "go back to sleep."
Two drunks were enough for her to handle; she didn't need a drunken symbiote adding to the burden.
After some effort, Wednesday finally threw the two of them onto Enid's bed; her own bed was sacred and inviolable.
She looked at the two on the bed who were practically entwined, and for some reason, they looked particularly eyesore.
Frowning, she forcibly pulled Victor out of Enid's arms and dragged him to his own small bed right next to the bathroom door.
"Whew..." After finishing all this, for some unknown reason, she felt her mood lighten considerably.
Wednesday nodded with satisfaction and turned to walk out of the dorm door.
The cool night breeze brushed past. She took a deep breath, completely isolating herself from the noise and sweetness behind her.
It was time to investigate the clue she had just obtained.
"Snap twice..." she whispered the answer to the riddle, her gaze shifting toward the silent bronze statue of Edgar Allan Poe in the distance under the moonlight.
Ten minutes later... well, now there were two pieces of good news and one piece of bad news.
Wednesday thought to herself as she was bound to a hardwood chair by cold, rough ropes.
The primary good news was that she had successfully solved the riddle of the Edgar Allan Poe statue.
Ten minutes ago, when she accurately snapped her fingers twice under the moonlight, the weathered bronze statue made a faint mechanical clicking sound and moved aside quietly, revealing a narrow entrance to a hidden library area.
In that secret room filled with the scent of old paper and dust, she had found the ancient, deep purple book as she had hoped—its cover clearly embossed with the elegant and deadly Nightshade logo.
Tucked between the pages was exactly what she was looking for: another prophetic drawing.
The other piece of good news that couldn't be ignored: this secret room seemed to have an owner, and as an intruder, she had been kidnapped.
An experience that would be a nightmare for most people was a rare and novel experience for her.
Being blindfolded and bound... this situation full of uncertainty gave her a rare sense of pleasure, as if she were tasting a dish of dark cuisine with a unique flavor.
She even secretly hoped the kidnappers would show some professional skill to make the game more interesting.
However, the bad news shattered that expectation—her kidnappers weren't the skilled psychopathic killers she had imagined, but a group of high school clowns led by Bianca Barclay.
The rope binding technique was crude and amateurish, the knots lacked any technical merit, and they hadn't even effectively restricted her blood circulation.
This amateur level disappointed her greatly, as if she had been invited to a high-class ball only to find everyone doing square dancing.
Even more frustratingly, this group had actually chosen theatrical Venetian masks as disguises, which only added to the ridicule.
Honestly, she shouldn't have let Bianca and the others take off their masks.
Even though she had recognized them long ago despite their pathetic disguises, not taking off the masks would have at least maintained a bit of pathetic mystery and added some depth to this clumsy performance, wouldn't it?
When Xavier—the 'Da Vinci' who had tried to approach her on her second day after transferring—cleared his throat and proposed inviting her to join the 'Nightshades,' Wednesday finally couldn't take it anymore.
Join this so-called elite social club? Listen to that: elite? Social? God, this was more torturous than listening to Victor recite love poems for ten hours straight.
She would rather accompany that lunatic to ten more sickeningly sweet parties.
Not to mention when Xavier added that the Nightshades was the club her parents, Gomez and Morticia, used to belong to—Wednesday felt her stomach churn.
That made it even more unacceptable.
She stood up briskly, easily breaking free from the non-technical knot she had untied five minutes ago.
She casually slapped the rope onto a 'kidnapper' who, for some reason, was still insisting on wearing a cheap Venetian mask.
The moment her palm touched the other person's shoulder, Wednesday was suddenly startled.
An extremely familiar, sickeningly sweet yet slightly bitter chocolate scent, mixed with a faint aroma of fermented alcohol, wafted from this 'kidnapper.'
"Victor?" Wednesday frowned, a hint of unbelievable suspicion in her tone.
"Surprise!" the person responded cheerfully, briskly taking off the mask.
Victor Black's face was revealed, his cheeks flushed with a drunken glow. Those eyes that always danced with a mad light were a bit dazed now, but he was smiling brilliantly.