After dragging that arrogant black mouse out from under Wednesday's bed and tossing it out the window, Victor patted the dust off his hands.
Just as he was about to turn back and continue the unfinished "warm moment" with Enid, he realized the atmosphere had already shifted.
The blush on Enid's face hadn't faded, but her gaze had regained its clarity, carrying a decisiveness that said, "This matter is over."
"Out, out."
She began pushing Victor toward the door with an undeniable force.
"I have to go to the dance studio to practice in a bit, and I need to change now. I'm the captain of the dance troupe this year, so I can't be late."
Victor lingered as if his feet had grown roots, his face written with the grievance of "I don't want to leave."
Enid stopped, her azure eyes narrowing slightly as she sized him up with a hint of danger:
"What? Mr. Victor Black, do you also want to observe the captain changing her clothes?"
"Can I?!"
Victor's eyes instantly lit up like lightbulbs connected to power, filled with sincere expectation.
"I want to! I really want to!"
"You pervert!"
Two clouds of red flew onto Enid's cheeks as she gave him a coquettish glare.
"Then keep thinking about it!"
Bang!
The dormitory door was shut decisively the moment she finished speaking, nearly slamming into Victor's high-bridged nose as he instinctively leaned forward.
Victor rubbed his nose and muttered resentfully:
"Turns out it wasn't a multiple-choice question; it was a true-or-false one..."
He stood stupidly at the door for a few seconds before suddenly realizing a serious problem.
"Wait... Wednesday went to investigate the crossbow bolts and the invisible stalker, Enid went to practice dance... So I'm currently..."
He looked around the empty corridor, and a sense of panic named "boredom" instantly seized him.
"I'm all alone?! No—this is terrible! Having nothing to do is practically slow-motion suicide!"
He let out a wail, his eyes darting around before his face immediately broke into a fawning smile. He called out to his internal roommate with his consciousness:
"Um... Venom? Good brother? You there? Don't play dead! Come out, let's go find some fun! Just the two of us, like the old days!"
After a brief silence, a black, viscous fluid slowly emerged from Victor's shoulder, coalescing into Venom's iconic black head with its gaping, bloody maw.
It squinted at Victor with its massive white eyes, speaking with a tone thick with the sourness of old vinegar:
"Wow! Look at this! Who is it? Isn't this our great Casanova, Mr. Victor Black? I'm just so touched. Is the sun rising from the west?"
"Has your highness finally remembered that there's still a good brother living inside your body who once went through life and death with you, but is now practically growing mushrooms in a moldy corner?"
Victor was a bit dazed by this string of sarcasm.
"Uh... Venom? Are you... Are you okay? Did you eat too much expired chocolate?"
"What's wrong with me?"
Venom's voice rose, filled with exaggerated grievance and indignation.
"You have the nerve to ask me what's wrong? Ever since you've had a girl on each arm and successfully won over those two beautiful girlfriends of yours, do you even see me anymore?"
It used a tentacle to count off its accusations:
"Tell me yourself, in these recent chapters... no, I mean, these recent days! How much screen time have I had?"
"I'm a perfectly good male lead number two! The former comic relief, combat support, and life mentor! Now my screen time is practically being stolen by that black mouse who does nothing but gnaw on dry bread! I'm almost becoming a background prop inside your body!"
Venom grew more excited as it spoke, and its huge white eyes actually managed to squeeze out two mimicked drops of black "tears of sorrow":
"So! Go play by yourself! I'm not sticking around! I'm going to split off two little ones to play Fight the Landlord with myself! Goodbye!"
With that, it retracted into Victor's body with a "whoosh," even deliberately cutting off most of their sensory sharing.
Leaving Victor standing alone in the empty corridor, bewildered in the wind.
Victor stood frozen for a long while before blinking and scratching his head.
"Is... is it jealous? Or is its inner drama queen acting up because it thinks it doesn't have enough lines?"
He tried to sense Venom again, only to find that the fellow had actually blocked him, making snoring sounds in his sea of consciousness to pretend it was asleep.
"Hey! You tsundere black jelly!"
Victor cursed under his breath, caught between laughter and tears.
It seemed he couldn't count on his sulking Symbiote partner for the time being.
Victor sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began to wander aimlessly through the ancient and deep corridors of Nevermore Academy.
The setting sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful and eerie shadows.
Only the sound of his own footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, feeling exceptionally lonely.
"Sigh, fun... where's the fun..." He looked around listlessly.
On the other side—
The Addams Family stood in the gardener's cottage that Principal Dott had assigned for the couple's temporary stay—the one that had belonged to the imprisoned Laurel Gates.
It was vastly different from the iconic gloomy, retro, death-aesthetic decor of The Addams Family castle.
The interior of this cottage was filled with a suffocating, pink, girly aesthetic.
Pale pink walls, lace-trimmed curtains, fabric sofas with small floral prints—even the air seemed to waft with the cloyingly sweet scent of scented candles.
Gomez and Pugsley were clearly much more adaptable to the environment.
Gomez even toyed with interest at a somewhat twisted ornament that looked like it had been modified from a unicorn plush toy.
Meanwhile, Wednesday and Lady Morticia—
These two ladies, whose tastes were highly aligned, wore expressions of undisguised disgust and discomfort, as if they were looking at something eldritch and indescribable.
"Who... exactly decorated this place?"
Lady Morticia finally couldn't help but speak, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible trembling.
Her elegant fingers lightly brushed over a small tea table covered with a pink tablecloth and topped with a Hello Kitty-shaped tissue box, as if it were some contaminated object that needed to be quarantined.
Wednesday didn't speak, but simply walked expressionlessly to the bedside table.
On it stood a picture frame with a brightly smiling Laurel Gates.
She reached out with her pale fingers and, without hesitation, pushed the frame face-down onto the table with a "clack."
"A mass murderer who has killed countless people."
Her cool voice stated the fact, as if explaining the source of this terrible taste.
"You shouldn't slander so casually, dear."
Lady Morticia frowned slightly, her tone corrective, but the content was as full of addams style as ever.
"Not all mass murderers have such... regrettable taste. The few we know have quite classy interior design styles."
Wednesday turned around and looked directly at her mother, asking the doubt in her heart.
"Why do you want to be the Chair of the Fundraising Gala Committee?"
She knew her mother; she was by no means someone enthusiastic about such mundane social activities.
Lady Morticia sighed softly and walked to the window, gazing at the Gothic spires of Nevermore Academy outside, her voice becoming somewhat distant.
"I didn't expect things to change so quickly. In the blink of an eye, both you and Pugsley are at Nevermore. Only your father and I are left in the castle..."
She paused, a rare trace of confusion surfacing in her tone.
"The vast castle suddenly feels empty. I don't know... what I should do in the future."
A rare look of near-horror flashed across Wednesday's face, though it vanished extremely quickly.
"The thought of you and Father alone at home..."
Her voice remained steady, but her choice of words betrayed her inner turmoil.
"...fills me with a dread usually reserved for seeing mascots in costumes."
To her, that was practically mental torture.
"I'll stay here, closer to you."
Lady Morticia turned around, her deep eyes looking at her daughter as she spoke meaningfully.
"Perhaps... I can teach you some life experience."
Wednesday turned almost immediately and walked toward the door, her back resolute.
"You are a dove; I am a raven."
Her voice was cold and detached. "We are destined to fly in different skies and walk different paths."
She rejected this gentle "shackle."
"What I'm talking about—"
Lady Morticia spoke unhurriedly, her voice sliding through the air like velvet, precisely pinning Wednesday's footsteps in place.
"—isn't about experience with dark magic, poisons, or how to elegantly handle opponents."
She tilted her head slightly, her red lips curving into an all-knowing, somewhat mischievous arc.
"But rather... practical experience on how to tame that little boyfriend of yours who has excess energy, a blurred sense of boundaries, and seems to be developing an interest in certain things."
Wednesday's back stiffened.
She didn't turn around, but her fingers at her side curled almost imperceptibly.
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