The dorm door closed softly behind Victor, leaving a tense silence.
Enid slowly stood up. Her fingertips twisted the soft hem of her nightgown unconsciously, her voice carrying a deliberately maintained lightness, though unable to hide the determination underneath:
"Tomorrow night's ball, Victor will be my date. He's been too stressed lately; he needs relaxation and... normal social interaction."
Wednesday didn't even shift her gaze. Her eyes remained fixed on the bloody clues, her voice cold as stone in a crypt:
"A ball. A collective hysteria packaging meaningless limb flailing, excessive sugar intake, and superficial social flaunting as entertainment. Utterly stupid."
She finally turned her head. Her dark pupils held no ripple, yet carried a sharp, penetrating power:
"Victor's time should be spent on higher efficiency matters. He will accompany me to stake out the forest edge tomorrow night."
"According to the prophecy drawing, the Hyde is extremely likely to appear in that area. It's the best opportunity to track clues of Crackstone's resurrection, and perhaps even lure out the 'Plague Doctor' behind the scenes."
"You just want to keep him tied to your side! With that dark, dangerous so-called 'serious business'!"
Enid's voice couldn't help but rise, flames igniting in her eyes. "You don't care at all if he needs rest and happiness!"
"And you," Wednesday's voice remained steady but pierced back precisely like a cold scalpel,
"Just want to drag him into a false, mediocre peace with cheap music and sickly sweet cake, ignoring the threat close at hand. This short-sighted 'happiness' is the greatest irresponsibility."
The distance between the two shortened rapidly in the silent wrestle until they could almost feel the temperature of each other's breath.
"Admit it," Enid lowered her voice, carrying a hint of challenge, "you just want him all to yourself."
The corner of Wednesday's mouth twitched downward extremely slightly into a near-mocking arc.
"Likewise."
Sparks seemed to crackle in the air.
"Then let the best woman win."
Enid's chin lifted slightly, carrying the stubbornness unique to wolves.
Wednesday's gaze didn't retreat an inch.
"Exactly my intention."
Just then—
"Uh..."
The dorm door was pushed open. Victor poked his head in, hugging a delivery box stamped with an owl logo. His gaze roved over the two girls who were almost sticking together, his face filled with confusion and a trace of carefulness.
"Did I... miss some important segment? Do I need to go out for another stroll and leave you some... uh... private space?"
"No need!"
The two separated abruptly, answering in unison, their tones carrying a synchronized annoyance of being caught.
Victor shrank his neck, hugging his package and scuttling in, muttering softly:
"Okay... looks like I really came back at the wrong time..."
He keenly felt that the air in the dorm was several degrees colder than the cellar of Nevermore.
Victor carried the package into the toilet.
The toilet door partitioned off a small, damp space.
Victor sat with his back against the door, the delivery box spread on his lap, fingers rudely tearing the tape.
"Seriously—"
He grumbled to Venom in his mind while digging through the styrofoam peanuts inside.
"Girls are really weird. Sometimes I completely don't understand what they're thinking. One second they're fine, the next second they're like two meteors about to collide."
Venom popped a small black head out of his collar, rolled his big white eyes, made an extremely anthropomorphic "can't be bothered with you" expression, and slowly retracted.
—Victor's IQ was passable, but his EQ was like an unstable bouncy ball on him.
Sometimes it could soar to the clouds and perceive human hearts, other times it would plunge headfirst into the Mariana Trench and refuse to surface.
Obviously, his interpretation of the gunpowder smell in the dorm just now belonged to the latter.
Victor took out a quaint little pot from the package, along with a large pile of jars with obscure labels and dried strange plants.
Then, he solemnly turned that brick-thick book "One Thousand Magical Potions: From Entry to Burial" to a dog-eared page.
The title read boldly: Good and Evil Potion.
Since fighting that semi-mechanical Plague Doctor, Victor had been thoroughly alarmed.
His and Venom's combat power was seriously insufficient. Winning a point last time by relying on petty tricks and the opponent's obsession with "originality" was pure luck.
Next time, the opponent definitely wouldn't fall for it again.
The technology route was basically a dead end—the opponent was miles ahead of him.
So, he could only try occultism.
He had rummaged through the Nightshades' restricted section and finally found this book about magic potions.
This "Good and Evil Potion" was particularly interesting.
It was said to be able to temporarily split a person into a pure good side and a pure evil side, developed based on some ancient Eastern "Zodiac Magic" principle.
"Too useful!" Victor's eyes lit up. "Next time it won't be a duel, it'll be a gang beatdown! Two against one, fair and reasonable!"
He rolled up his sleeves, ready to start.
Venom popped out again, acting as a living reader, reading the steps in a dull voice:
"Step one: Start the pot and boil water..."
Victor placed the small pot on a small alcohol stove and poured in distilled water.
"Once the water is hot, slice the beef and add it to the pot..."
Victor's hand holding the small knife to slice beef paused. He blinked, looking at Venom in confusion:
"Wait, buddy, are you sure you read that right? This sounds like it's teaching me to make beef soup rather than brewing a potion to split good and evil?"
Venom's black tentacle tapped a few times on the page, seemingly confirming:
"That's what the book says. Note: This recipe was written by a Chef mage."
Victor froze for a moment, then realization dawned, wearing an "oh, so that's it" expression:
"Oh! Written by a Chef person! That's not strange then, not strange at all. Cuisine integrated into life, magic originating from the kitchen, no problem! Continue, continue!"
He neatly threw the beef slices into the simmering water.
Venom continued reading. The steps became increasingly bizarre, adding "centipede legs dried by moonlight," "mandrake root harvested during sorrow," and so on.
Victor operated clumsily but unusually precisely. A weird smell, indescribable, mixing meat aroma and herbal fishiness, permeated the room.
"...Step twelve: Add three drops of crocodile tears."
Victor carefully dripped three drops of turbid liquid from a teardrop-shaped vial.
"Wait, let me turn the page. The last step—"
Venom read, his tone seemingly carrying a trace of uncertainty too.
"Add... chocolate, stir well."
Victor stared at the bubbling, weirdly colored mixture for two seconds of silence:
"Chocolate? Is this stuff really not some demon-flavored stew sauce?"
Despite the complaint, he obediently fished out a piece of dark chocolate from his pocket, broke it into pieces, threw them in, and picked up a glass rod to start stirring.
"Quite simple actually,"
Looking at the gradually merging liquid, Victor sighed in relief. "Hmm, seems to lack a big tool. I'll go find a bigger spoon to stir."
In the dorm, Enid, who was silently sparring with Wednesday with her eyes, sniffed.
Enid's azure eyes widened abruptly, shock and disbelief written on her face. She turned to Wednesday, her voice changing pitch:
"What is Victor doing in the toilet?! This smell... sounds like... sounds like he's cooking something terrible!"
Wednesday's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but she maintained her cold composure, remarking sharply:
"Besides using the toilet, what else can he do in there? Is he stewing soup for you?"
Just then, the toilet door clicked open.
Victor leaned out, wearing a serious expression focused on "scientific experiment," completely ignoring the weird atmosphere in the dorm.
He walked straight to his bed and dragged out a... huge, long-handled iron ladle from under a pile of junk.
He smiled politely, even a bit shyly, at the two stiff-faced girls, then took the big iron ladle and ducked back into the toilet. The door closed again.
Outside the door, deathly silence.
Enid slowly turned her head to look at Wednesday, the shock on her face having turned into some hollow blankness.
"Wednesday," she murmured, "I feel like what you said just now... might be the right answer."
Wednesday didn't reply. Victor's unpredictable behavior had breached her psychological lower limit once again.