Enid couldn't help but laugh, then quickly said with pity: "Blow on it, Victor, blow on it and it won't hurt."
For some reason, Victor blew a few puffs of air onto the wound, then awkwardly turned his head away.
And so, under the silent companionship and subtle guidance of the two "ghosts" from the future, Little Victor and Venom struggled yet tenaciously survived in this wilderness.
His gaze remained wary, his mouth as sharp as ever, but occasionally, in moments unnoticed, a faint trace of dependence and confusion would flash in his eyes.
He always felt as if there was something... warm nearby.
Until that evening.
An unexpected visitor arrived outside the cabin.
A man dressed in a tailored black suit, pale-faced, with an elegant and mysterious air—it was Count Dracula.
His eyes swept over the dilapidated cabin, finally settling on the Little Victor blocking the doorway, full of wariness like a bristling little beast.
"Hmm? A discarded little monster?" Dracula's voice was low and magnetic.
Little Victor stared at him tensely, Venom also poised to strike.
Dracula smiled slightly, revealing sharp canines, yet without the slightest sense of threat.
"Child, it seems you need a proper place for a hot bath and a real dinner. Interested in coming with me? My daughter could use a playmate."
Little Victor stared hard at Dracula, seemingly assessing the danger. In the end, hunger and cold overcame his wariness, and he slowly nodded.
Just as Dracula turned to lead him away, Little Victor suddenly stopped, whirled around, and looked towards the empty shadows in the corner of the cabin.
His eyes were filled with a strong, ineffable intuition.
He couldn't see them, but he could feel... that "warmth" that had accompanied him through many cold nights was fading.
"Hey!" he shouted towards that void, his voice hoarse before puberty, still brash but carrying a barely perceptible panic and... plea.
"I... will I see you again?"
The cold wind howled, whipping up snowflakes.
Silence.
Just as the light in Little Victor's eyes was about to dim, two overlapping, gentle yet firm feminine voices, as if from a distant future, clearly pierced the barrier of time and space, echoing in his heart:
"We will meet again, Victor."
"In the future."
"At Nevermore."
Little Victor froze. He blinked, as if digesting this illusory promise.
Then, he roughly wiped his face, turned around, and stubbornly followed Dracula without looking back.
Only, unseen by anyone, he whispered into the wind and snow in an extremely small voice:
"Hmph, Nevermore, huh?... Wait for it."
In the corner of the cabin, Wednesday and Enid's projections exchanged a smile and slowly dissipated in the ripples of spacetime.
They knew a brand new story had already planted its seed in the long river of time.
Ten years later, by the roadside leading to Nevermore.
Tall coniferous trees cast dappled shadows on either side of the highway. The air was filled with the scent of pine needles and earth.
A tall, lanky young man in a black leather jacket leaned casually against the rough trunk of a tree, idly tossing and catching a smooth human skull.
"Walking is so tiring, Venom."
Victor drawled, his tone full of laziness and complaint. He deftly caught the falling skull, tapping his fingers on it, producing a hollow, light sound.
"I feel like the soles of my feet are protesting."
On his shoulder, the black symbiote substance squirmed, emitting a hoarse whisper: "Then stop walking, kid. Find a ride, hitchhike, how about that?"
Victor's jade-green eyes instantly lit up, like a cat finding a new toy.
"Good idea, buddy!"
He nimbly jumped down from the tree trunk, brushed the dust off his pants, and scanned the distant, winding highway where occasional vehicles passed.
"But," he tilted his head, a sly curve appearing at the corner of his mouth, "which car is going to Nevermore? That's a bit hard to choose..."
He lifted a finger theatrically, pointing at the sparse traffic on the highway, chanting in a tone almost like a child's game: "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..."
His fingertip happened to land on a solemn, even somewhat antiquated-looking, black extended hearse leisurely driving by.
The vehicle was sleek, exuding a solemn aura of death. But in Victor's perception, that aura wasn't decayed; instead, it carried a... fresh, tranquil quality.
"Hey!" Victor grinned, revealing two sharp canine teeth. "Looks like Lady Luck is on my side today. This hearse is nice, the death aura is fresh, perfect for a free ride."
He moved as lightly as a black cat, climbing up a perfectly positioned large tree by the roadside in a few quick moves. The dense foliage perfectly concealed his figure.
Crouching on a thick branch, he peered through the hearse's wide rear window.
The interior of the carriage was spacious, decorated simply and solemnly.
A girl in a black dress sat alone inside, her back to the window.
Her hair was styled in two neat braids, the ends resting on her shoulders. Her posture was upright, exuding an icy, unapproachable aura even while seated.
She seemed to be looking down at something on her lap, her profile elegant yet expressionless, like a delicate porcelain doll.
"Good taste, Victor," Venom praised.
It was unclear whether he was praising the car or the girl.
The story begins here.
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