"Enid..." Victor's voice trailed off, a hint of wheedling in his tone. "Give me one... just one! I want to taste what that legendary 'flavor of happiness' feels like..."
Seeing Victor like this, Enid couldn't help but laugh. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she picked up a gummy, hesitated for a moment, and then held it to his lips.
"Here, for you."
Victor happily opened his mouth to take it, his tongue inadvertently brushing against Enid's fingertip.
As if struck by a weak electric current, Enid jerked her hand back, her face instantly turning bright red.
Victor seemed completely oblivious, squinting as he savored the candy. He commented indistinctly, "Mmm... a bit cloyingly sweet... but not bad... By the way, Wednesday, what exactly did you find..."
His question was ignored by Wednesday once again.
Wednesday also ignored Xavier, who was greeting her, and pressed the call bell at the counter.
Tyler emerged from the kitchen almost immediately, his movements so quick they carried a hint of subtle tension.
"That's not fair," Victor immediately whispered his complaint to Enid, his tone full of genuine grievance. "Why does he hide when he sees me, but shows up instantly for Wednesday? I look much friendlier than she does!"
"Uh... Victor," Enid asked cautiously, with a touch of sympathy, "did you... or Venom, do something to him?"
"How could we!" Victor's eyes widened, looking like he'd been wronged. "Venom and I are very friendly! Last time, Venom even asked him very politely if he could have a little taste of him. We even used the word 'please'!"
Enid silently shrank back, her face written with an "I knew it" expression. "Okay... mystery solved."
On the other side, Wednesday had already pulled out a map of Jericho and spread it on the counter. Her voice was flat. "Joseph Crackstone's Old Meeting House. Specific location."
Tyler swallowed nervously, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the map, finally pointing to the depths of a dense forest. "I-It's here. There's basically only the foundation and some rubble left now. It's very remote and hard to find..."
Wednesday efficiently rolled up the map, stuffed it back into her bag, and turned to leave without any hesitation.
"Hey! Wednesday!" Victor hurriedly picked up the untouched dessert with its mountain of whipped cream and chased after her. "Don't go so fast! Why not have some dessert to relax first? Get some sugar in you so we'll have the energy to go together later!"
Wednesday's pace didn't falter. Her voice came back cold and hard, like a block of ice hitting the ground. "No need. I'll go alone. You two, continue your date."
Those words were like a magic spell.
Enid's face flushed red in an instant. The butterflies in her heart began to crash against the walls, and she almost let out a whimper of happiness! Internally, she was cheering wildly for Wednesday: Best friend! God-tier wingman! I love you!
Meanwhile, the smile on Victor's face froze completely. His eyes, which always flickered with a mad light, widened in disbelief, as if he had heard news more terrifying than "global chocolate production has ceased."
He practically lunged to the door, suddenly blocking Wednesday's path. His voice rose with shock and urgency, even cracking slightly:
"Are you kidding me?! After hearing my analysis last night—that those Plague Doctors might be targeting you! That Joseph Crackstone, who's been dead for centuries, might be waiting to be resurrected!—you're telling me you're going alone into the middle of a pitch-black, godforsaken forest to find some damn ruins?!"
He waved his arms as if conducting an invisible, disastrous symphony:
"You're practically planting every 'first to die' flag from every horror movie ever made! And you've even provided your own tragic BGM! Are you afraid those guys lurking in the shadows won't find a perfect, isolated target to strike, Wednesday?!"
Wednesday looked at Victor. There wasn't a ripple in her black pupils, only a cold chill sharp enough to freeze the air.
"Analysis?" she repeated, her voice as light as a feather yet sharp as a blade. "Do you mean those fragmented, unsubstantiated drunken ramblings from last night, built on a foundation of alcohol and delusions?"
Her gaze swept over Victor's slightly flushed cheeks. A faint trace of mockery curled at the corner of her mouth.
"I appreciate your 'concern,' Mr. Black. But my actions do not need to be based on your 'possibilities' and 'conjectures.' Nor do I need an 'advisor' who can't even control his own emotions and relies on alcohol and a Symbiote to escape reality."
These words were like a poisoned dagger, accurately piercing the corner Victor least wanted touched.
Victor's face went pale for a moment. A flash of pain flickered in his eyes, but it was immediately overtaken by a more surging tide of anger and anxiety.
"Oh! Yeah! I am crazy! I do rely on alcohol and Venom!" He took a sudden step forward, almost touching Wednesday, his voice rising sharply with the rasp of a wounded beast.
"But that's because I've seen with my own damn eyes what those 'Plague Doctors' do in their labs! I can smell them! That cold, rotting, inhuman smell of'science'!"
His fingers unconsciously gripped his own arm, his knuckles turning white.
"And you! All you know is clutching your Psychic Visions. You think you can handle them with just a bit of cold logic and a few old paintings?! They aren't the kind of opponents who follow 'rules' like you imagine! They are..."
"What they are is none of your concern," Wednesday interrupted coldly, unmoved.
"What has your 'personal experience' brought you besides PTSD and a mountain of fear that needs to be suppressed by external substances? Loss of control? Madness? Or this—"
Her gaze swept over his hand, which was trembling slightly from agitation. "—this useless, emotional overreaction?"
"I'm overreacting?!" Victor acted as if he'd heard the joke of the century. He threw his hands out and let out a short, sharp laugh.
"Yes! I am overreacting! Because I don't want to see you become the next me! Targeted by them, torn apart by them, or turned into some... some 'thing' they want!"
"Three years, seven months, and thirteen days. I remember it clearly. I was dismantled by them again and again, then sewn back together over and over until I became a... a freak! Do you want to become a freak? Huh?!"
His voice carried a near-desperate anger, and his eyes were even a bit red—not the usual feigned pity, but real, searing fear.
"I do not need your protection," Wednesday's voice remained steady but grew even colder, each word like an icicle striking the ground.
"And I certainly don't need you projecting your own trauma and fear onto my investigation. Your 'help,' Mr. Black, is worthless, other than causing trouble and introducing more uncontrollable variables."
She lifted her chin slightly, her dark eyes like two bottomless ancient wells, clearly reflecting Victor's current agitated and somewhat pathetic state.
"Your emotional instability, your unpredictable behavior, and that... tiresome tendency of yours to try and drag everyone into your chaotic world."
She paused, finally delivering the icy verdict.
"Watson," her voice was devoid of any emotion, yet it carried the power to end everything, "you're fired."
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