Madam Morticia gracefully took a few steps closer, lowering her voice, which carried a dark yet effective wisdom only understood by her and her daughter:
"For example, how to precisely puncture his little schemes when he tries to charm his way out of trouble with that 'wet puppy dog eyes' routine;"
"For example, how to set 'boundaries' that make him itch with desire yet dare not easily cross, rather than crudely drawing a line with a dagger—though, of course, the dagger is necessary as a final deterrent;"
"And for another example, how to utilize his 'the more forbidden, the more tempting' rebellious psychology to make him fall, step by step, into your carefully designed... 'obedience' trap."
Wednesday still didn't turn around, but the tips of her ears twitched slightly during her mother's low, seductive "lesson."
Madam Morticia was satisfied with her daughter's subtle reaction, and upped the ante, her tone full of confidence:
"Trust me, dear. When it comes to 'taming' an overly spirited and intensely curious partner, our The Addams Family... has ancestral, time-tested, effective methods. After all, your father back then..."
"That's enough."
Wednesday suddenly cut her off, her voice colder than before, but if one listened closely, it seemed to contain a trace of almost imperceptible... wavering?
She finally turned around slowly, meeting her mother's eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through everything.
Her face remained expressionless, but the tightly pressed line of her lips betrayed her inner turmoil.
Silence spread through the room, which was permeated by a sweet, pink air.
A few seconds later, Wednesday squeezed a sentence through clenched teeth, in a tone that was almost grindingly reluctant yet forced to compromise:
"Tell me about that 'rebellious psychology trap' first."
...Wednesday, who had talked with her mother for a long time, walked aimlessly through the woods on the edge of Nevermore Academy, a place that always seemed darker than everywhere else, her hands in her pockets.
The afternoon light was fragmented by layers of strange branches, casting shifting spots of light on her pale face.
What echoed repeatedly in her mind, however, were her mother Morticia's "husband-taming tricks," delivered with a lazy smile—
How to guide, how to set boundaries, how to seize the initiative while seemingly yielding... Wednesday stopped, not because she had figured something out, but because the sudden sight in the clearing ahead captured her attention.
Flashing police lights, a surrounding cordon, busy figures, and... outside the cordon line, a figure on tiptoes, neck craned long, watching with great interest.
Who else could it be but Victor?
"Tsk tsk, good grief, the eyeballs were eaten like snacks. The crows around here sure have good taste, right, Venom? Venom?... Still sulking?"
Victor was completely absorbed in the 'excitement' ahead, trying to communicate with his sulking Symbiote in his mind, but only receiving a deliberate, dead silence.
He didn't notice the approach from behind at all.
"Victor, what are you doing?"
Wednesday's voice sounded coolly behind him, like a drop of ice water falling into the slightly noisy environment.
"Wednesday!"
Victor spun around instantly, a huge smile blooming on his face, as if he had discovered some incredible treasure he couldn't wait to share.
He excitedly pointed inside the cordon.
"Look! I heard this guy was attacked and killed by a flock of crows! That method is pretty wild, huh?"
Wednesday slowly walked closer, her gaze lightly sweeping over the scene.
Seeing her approach, Victor habitually, almost subconsciously, reached out to take her hand, which hung by her side and looked somewhat cold.
Normally, Wednesday would either subtly avoid it or allow him to hold it without further response.
But at this moment, her mother's words flashed through her mind like an unexpected impulse—"Turn passive into active."
Therefore, just before Victor's fingers could touch hers, Wednesday not only didn't dodge but actively raised her hand and precisely grasped Victor's hand.
Her movement wasn't gentle, even carrying her usual, undeniable decisiveness, but the initiative was undeniably real.
This completely threw Victor off.
His hand froze in mid-air for a second before Wednesday fully grasped it.
He felt the slightly cool, delicate sensation transmitted from her palm, unlike his own heat.
Victor was completely stunned, blinking twice, his face filled with disbelief and flattered surprise.
He subconsciously looked down at their clasped hands, then looked up at Wednesday's still expressionless profile, his throat moving, but no sound coming out.
"What's wrong?"
Wednesday felt his stiffness, glanced at him sideways, and spoke in a flat tone.
"N-Nothing."
Victor quickly shook his head, but his earlobes flushed uncontrollably.
He immediately reined in his earlier boisterous demeanor, becoming exceptionally "docile."
Just like that, quietly, and even a little cautiously, he allowed Wednesday to lead him by the hand.
Like a human cub suddenly held firmly by a parent in a strange environment, he followed her closely, bewilderedly crossing the police tape.
The officers busy with the on-site investigation, whether because they recognized Wednesday or were intimidated by her self-assured aura, didn't step forward to stop them.
Wednesday's mouth curled up by an almost imperceptible single pixel.
It worked, indeed.
Her mother's experience, it seemed... was not entirely without merit.
Only when they got close enough were the gory details of the scene presented without reservation.
The zipper of the body bag was only half-pulled, revealing the corpse of a middle-aged man inside.
Most shocking were his empty eye sockets, the edges bearing residual tearing marks, as if pecked by some bird.
Furthermore, his exposed skin was covered in scars of varying depths, old and new intermingled, suggesting the deceased had a life that was perhaps not peaceful.
"Wednesday, is there anything you need help with?"
A voice interrupted their scrutiny.
The speaker was a Black female sheriff, Santiago.
Wednesday remembered her; she used to be Donovan's subordinate. After Donovan was dismissed, she took over the position of sheriff.
"Just admiring the scenery, Sheriff Santiago."
Wednesday's tone was cold, carrying her unique talent for delivering polite phrases with a sarcastic undertone.
Sheriff Santiago seemed long accustomed to this, her expression unchanged: "I guarantee I'll do better than my predecessor."
Wednesday replied expressionlessly: "That's a very low bar."
Her words were blunt, almost harsh.
Sheriff Santiago didn't mind, simply nodded, and turned to continue directing the work at the scene.
She had clearly heard from Donovan about how troublesome this girl was, and chose to keep her distance.
Just then, Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her sharp gaze fixed on the edge of the crowd gathered outside the cordon.
There, a hooded, furtive figure was trying to blend into the crowd, but that deliberate attempt to minimize presence made them particularly conspicuous in Wednesday's eyes.
The hooded figure seemed keenly aware of Wednesday's gaze, jolted, immediately turned, and hurriedly disappeared into the deeper shade of the woods, moving with near panic.
Almost simultaneously, Wednesday instantly released Victor's hand and, like a black cat spotting prey, chased after the figure swiftly and silently.
"Huh? Wednesday, wait for me!"
Victor felt his hand suddenly empty; the slight warmth and romance from moments ago instantly vanished, leaving only Wednesday's rapidly receding back view before his eyes.
He froze for a second, immediately called out, and without thinking further, took off running after her.
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