"This is on me."
Xavier, who was volunteering at the Weathervane, walked over with two desserts and placed them on the table, breaking the momentary subtle and sincere atmosphere between Victor and Enid.
"Thanks!" Victor's eyes lit up, and he unceremoniously took one, instantly putting his earlier "financial crisis" to the back of his mind.
Xavier smiled and sat down across from him: "I should be the one thanking you. Tyler seems terrified of you; he hid in the kitchen the moment he saw you walk in from a distance. Thanks to you, being around that jerk makes me very uncomfortable."
"Tyler?" Victor stuffed a large spoonful of brownie into his mouth, repeating the name indistinctly before remembering.
"Ah~ Tyler Galpin, that 'hidden edition chocolate'! No wonder I could smell him but couldn't see him."
"What, did he bully you?" Victor swallowed the dessert and looked at Xavier curiously, "No way, you're a 'Da Vinci' after all."
Xavier scratched his head awkwardly: "My Telekinesis is more geared towards prophetic dreams, and I'm a bit... weak in actual combat. If my Telekinesis were more like Rowan's Psychokinesis, I'd definitely give him a good lesson."
There was a hint of frustration and regret in his tone.
A "I get you" smile immediately appeared on Victor's face. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if sharing some secret weapon:
"Teaching someone a lesson doesn't necessarily require abilities. Buddy, how much money do you have? I have..."
"No, thanks, I don't need thermal weapons," Xavier interrupted decisively, his face written with "no thanks."
"Oh, alright." Victor instantly deflated like a punctured balloon, but then became curious again, "How did you know I was going to sell... er, recommend self-defense tools to you? Prophetic dream?"
"No," Xavier smiled helplessly and quipped, "I've just gained a bit of an understanding of your 'character'."
After the heavy bombardment on the lake during the Poe Cup, no one in the school didn't know what Victor Black's preferred solution to problems was.
"Oh, fine!" Victor immediately put on a pained expression of "you don't understand art at all."
"Another guy who misunderstands Mr. Black! Xavier, you're still too young; you don't understand the ultimate aesthetics and spiritual solace brought by precise mechanical structures, the cold touch of metal, and that perfectly balanced recoil..."
He opened his arms as if embracing an invisible Barrett: "It's a language! A philosophy! A..."
"A behavior that would get you immediately expelled and sent to Juvenile Detention if discovered by the police," Xavier added calmly, ending the topic once and for all.
He pointed to the front counter: "I... I'd better go back to wiping cups."
After saying that, he almost fled the scene of the dangerous sales pitch.
Victor watched his back, shrugged regretfully, and turned to spread his hands at Enid: "See, this is the threshold for art appreciation. Alas, a true kindred spirit is hard to find."
Enid giggled at his antics.
The doorbell of the Weathervane chimed, and Wednesday pushed the door open.
She stood at the door, the afternoon sun outlining a cold silhouette behind her, completely out of place with the warm and sweet atmosphere of the cafe.
"Wednesday! Over here, over here!" Victor's eyes lit up, and he immediately waved at her happily, his smile so bright it seemed capable of dispelling the chill around her.
Wednesday saw Victor and the happily smiling Enid beside him, and her footsteps paused almost imperceptibly.
She remembered that after leaving Pilgrim World, she had somehow ended up walking into Dr. Kinbott's psychiatric clinic.
(Flashback)
"Miss Addams? Today doesn't seem to be a scheduled counseling day."
Dr. Kinbott was somewhat surprised, her eyes subconsciously glancing behind Wednesday as if looking for someone.
"Don't worry, Victor didn't follow me," Wednesday said coldly.
Dr. Kinbott visibly breathed a sigh of relief—that boy put an unusual amount of pressure on her. Every session, he would smilingly and without any malice accurately poke at every sore spot of her failed relationships and career.
"How rare," Kinbott remarked, "that boy named Victor is almost inseparable from you."
"It's just that we both happen to need counseling," Wednesday's tone could freeze the air.
Then, using extremely calm terms that sounded like an anatomical report, she described to Dr. Kinbott her recent abnormal heart rate, increased body temperature, and the unfamiliar irritability she felt when facing a specific person.
Dr. Kinbott pondered for a moment and said, "It sounds like, Miss Addams, you might have fallen for someone, or at least developed a considerable amount of affection for him. Is it Victor?"
"No," Wednesday's voice was like shards of glass dipped in ice.
"I made a mistake." She turned to leave, "I shouldn't consult someone who can't even clean up the wreckage of their own emotions. It's like asking a blind person to appreciate the symmetrical aesthetics of Gothic architecture."
"Your diagnostic level," she looked back, her peripheral vision sweeping over Dr. Kinbott, her words delivered with lethal precision, "is as lamentably short as the lifespan of your romances."
This evaluation was as vicious as a scalpel, not only stabbing the heart but also stirring up old scars along the way.
The muscles on Dr. Kinbott's face twitched. But surprisingly, she didn't show the expected embarrassment or anger.
She just shrugged.
To be honest, after several rounds of reverse psychological counseling from Victor, her psychological threshold had significantly increased. For instance, Victor had given her a detailed analysis of the seventeen biological and sociological cowardly instincts her ex-boyfriend might have based his decision to cheat on...
Compared to that, Wednesday's sharp tongue felt almost mild.
"Wait," Dr. Kinbott suddenly called out to her just as Wednesday's hand touched the doorknob, pulling a slightly dusty book from the top shelf, "Perhaps... you could take a look at this? 'Analysis of Youth Romantic Psychology'."
Wednesday looked back, her gaze at the book as if looking at non-recyclable trash, her brow furrowed in disgust.
"It's more reliable than someone who can't even clean up their own emotional wreckage, isn't it?" Kinbott mocked herself.
Wednesday stared at the book as if weighing poison against an antidote. Finally, she turned sharply, walked back in a few steps, almost snatched the book, slapped a ten-dollar bill on the table, and left quickly without looking back.
"Uh..." Dr. Kinbott pinched the ten-dollar bill, watching Wednesday's rapidly disappearing back, and finally just smiled, "Well, a five-dollar profit."
She shook her head and sighed softly, "Victor and Wednesday... these two are a perfect match."
(Flashback ends)
"Looks like you skipped work from Pilgrim World?" Victor leaned in curiously, his eyes, which always danced with a mad light, now full of investigative interest, "Well? Any discoveries? Get any clues?"
Wednesday subconsciously moved her small bag containing 'Analysis of Youth Romantic Psychology' back a bit, avoiding Victor's probing gaze.
She cut straight to the point, her voice cold: "Do you know where Joseph Crackstone's old meeting place is?"
"Uh, what meeting place?" Victor looked blank and spread his hands exaggeratedly.
"You know, dear Captain, I'm not a local. For this kind of centuries-old antique stronghold, you have to ask those 'antique' families who have lived here for generations."
"I see." Getting her answer, Wednesday stopped looking at him and walked straight to the counter.
As she passed Enid, she took a small bag out of her pocket and placed it on the table in front of her.
"Oh! It's the limited edition Rainbow Swirl Gummies from Pilgrim World!" Enid opened the bag and immediately let out a cheer of surprise, "Wednesday! You actually remembered! Thank you!"
"Is there one for me?" Victor immediately leaned over, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Wednesday, his hand naturally reaching towards her bulging small bag, trying to see if there were any other "goodies" inside.
Wednesday nimbly dodged to the side while giving him a cold look, one sharp enough to make a Cerberus tuck its tail.
Victor withdrew his hand sheepishly, pouting like a large dog whose favorite toy had been taken away, and turned to seek comfort from Enid.
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