Alex left Sheriff Donovan’s house and clicked his tongue in annoyance. The reason for his irritation was simple: Tyler — the Hyde — really did keep a box of items belonging to the people he had murdered hidden under his bed. Alex had long known that Tyler remembered everything he did in his Hyde form — and that alone said a lot. But what truly bothered him wasn’t that. It was the fact that Tyler enjoyed the killings.

He recalled the old Men of Letters archives about creatures similar to Hydes. If a Hyde was awakened by a person, he obeyed his master unconditionally — like a hatchling imprinting on the first thing it saw. But if the awakening happened on its own, without anyone’s influence, a Hyde turned into a predator driven solely by a hunger for blood. And with each kill, that hunger only grew.

Alex remembered a report written by an Order member named Foster. The man claimed that even a Hyde awakened by a human would eventually become so consumed by the urge to kill that he might attack his own master. But Tyler’s case was even more complicated: in his Hyde form, he was saturated with Darkness, while his human form remained completely clean. Not a trace of corruption.

That was what truly interested Alex — just how much stronger had the Hyde become under the influence of Darkness?

He stopped in the middle of the street, rubbing his chin. He needed to decide what to do next. He had to appear to be conducting an investigation — otherwise Dean would eventually start asking uncomfortable questions about where Alex kept disappearing to.

Looking around, he suddenly realized he’d already walked all the way to the building where the office of the psychologist Valerie Kinbott was located — the very one Wednesday visited.

After a brief moment of thought, Alex decided to go in. He needed Tyler’s session records — to understand what the boy was like in his human state. Alex was already trying to keep him away from Wednesday, but Tyler still followed her, looking for any excuse to get closer.

Without wasting time on unnecessary hesitation, Alex pushed open the door and headed up to the second floor. Stopping at the correct door, he knocked.

“Come in,” Valerie Kinbott’s voice called.

Accepting the invitation, Alex stepped inside. The room looked like a typical small-town therapist’s office: cozy, warm, yet almost too soft and pleasant — a sharp contrast to the gloom of Jericho. A huge wall-length window overlooked the main street, offering a clear view of passersby and cars.

The space was filled with plants: ferns, ivy, and several blooming pots. A warm glow came from a floor lamp with a fabric shade. A patient’s couch, a chair opposite it, and a small table between them with tissues and a tiny vase of dried flowers. The scent of lavender and vanilla hung in the air thanks to aromatic candles.

Behind the desk sat Valerie Kinbott herself — with a soft, perhaps overly kind smile.

“How can I hel… Oh. It’s you. I didn’t expect you to stop by,” she said, her smile growing even sweeter.

“Do we know each other, Miss Kinbott?” Alex asked with a small smile as he sat down on the couch.

“Not personally, no, Agent Voldigoad. But Jericho is a small town, and news travels fast. You and your partner have been here for several days. And Wednesday mentions you occasionally during her sessions,” she said, settling into the chair across from him.

“You can just call me Alex. Today is something like a day off for me. Even I can’t work nonstop — everyone needs a break sometimes,” he said, smiling calmly as he crossed one leg over the other.

“I completely agree. Everyone needs rest. So, Alex… Did you come just to talk? Or are you hoping to schedule a session? Does your work trouble you? Or perhaps something else?” Her friendliness was almost flawless.

“I’m afraid that if I start talking about what goes on in my head, Miss Kinbott… you’d have to check yourself into treatment. Possibly a very specialized facility,” Alex said with a smile, tapping a finger against his temple. “Only my family knows what’s going on in there.”

“Now I see why Wednesday likes you. She said almost the same thing during her first session. The difference is, she hides her thoughts behind a frown, while you hide yours behind a smile that never leaves your face. You two are far more alike than it seems,” she said softly.

“I wouldn’t call it liking. More like Wednesday is trying to figure me out. When something appears in her life that she can’t understand… she tries to solve the mystery. How that ends — simple curiosity or something more — no one knows. The truth becomes clear only at the very end,” Alex said, lifting his hands slightly with a relaxed smile.

“You’re remarkably perceptive for your age, Alex. And if you don’t want to — or can’t — talk about work or your thoughts… then tell me: what do you do in your free time?” the psychologist continued.

Alex closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and spoke in a calm, almost steady voice:

“To be honest… over the years of my work, I’ve been to many places. Seen many things. Too many. I’ve seen parents sell their own children for a couple of dollars — for a fix. I’ve seen people kidnapped right off the street so their organs could be sold later. I’ve seen orphans who lost their families to senseless wars. So many grim stories… so much cruelty that an ordinary person wouldn’t witness even a tenth of it in their lifetime. But there were others too. Those who didn’t break. Those who kept fighting no matter what. Whose hearts stayed pure even when everything around them was Darkness. And tell me, Miss Kinbott… is my work worth continuing? Saving people who, after receiving the greatest gift… so often use it to create something horrific?”

Alex was no longer smiling. His gaze had become empty, devoid of even the faintest emotion. Valery Kinbott, looking into his eyes and listening to his voice, couldn’t believe someone so young could have such a dead look. She couldn’t imagine what he had seen, what he had lived through, for every spark of life to vanish from his eyes.

Alex kept speaking without pausing, as if he had triggered a mechanism that couldn’t be shut off. He described every horrifying thing he had witnessed, every nightmare he had faced — in people, and sometimes in what could no longer be called human.

But when he spoke about his family, warmth appeared in his voice, and a genuine, living smile flickered across his face. A spark returned to his eyes — faint, but real. He described the joy he felt around those who meant the world to him.

And the longer Valery listened, the more confused she became. His face shifted too quickly — from emptiness to light, from light to cold. She, an experienced psychologist, couldn’t understand what was happening inside Alex’s mind, what made him switch between such different states in an instant.

Alex himself didn’t know why he suddenly decided to open up. Maybe he was just tired of holding everything inside. Maybe he wanted at least someone to hear how he saw human nature — and why he had stopped expecting anything good from it.

And all the while he discreetly stole Tyler’s therapy records — with a light, practiced motion.

When he finished, his expression became pleasant again, almost friendly — the same mask he had worn when he entered the office. That unsettled Valery even more. She already understood that Alex would never spare anyone except his family. Everyone else, in his eyes, were merely passersby.

“It must have been difficult for you… seeing all that?” Valery asked, trying to maintain a smile.

“No. It’s not difficult. People have always been like this. They don’t change, and they can’t be fixed. Even if you show them a path to a bright future — they’ll ruin it anyway. No matter how much you give them, it will never be enough,” Alex said calmly, shaking his head.

“Then… maybe you should stop? Just quit your job and try doing something else?” she softly suggested.

“Stop? I will never stop! I win! I ALWAYS win! I’m an enforcer! This is my job — THAT’S WHAT I DO!” Alex roared and slammed his fist onto the table, leaving a web of cracks across the surface.

Valery flinched at the sudden shout. But what frightened her the most was his gaze — cold, insanely determined, inhuman. She was seeing this in a client for the first time… and she hoped it would be the last.

She lowered her eyes to the cracked table and shivered again. Alex took a deep breath and almost immediately calmed down. He hadn’t expected a single simple word to affect him so much. But for him, “stop” was equivalent to “betray everyone” — those who had been broken or were still screaming in agony.

Yet he had no choice; he could not stop or abandon his work. Even if he tried to balance rest with his job, it didn’t change the fact of what he had to do. The screams of souls he had heard in the world where the Minister of Monoliths had unleashed a zombie apocalypse.

Planet Tau-Wolnatis, the Monolith’s dwelling, where in the planet’s yard trillions of imprisoned souls endured eternal suffering. Worlds devastated by Davot’s army. The Cyberpunk world, where the Mechanical Man corrupted people through technology. The realm of Valhalla, where the Black Man manipulated the gods to destroy humanity and, with Odin’s help, performed a ritual to open a passage to that world.

And other universes, already destroyed or on the brink of ruin — Alex simply could not abandon them. He could never live knowing such things were happening somewhere. And Alex understood that only thanks to his family and their support had he become who he was today, and if someone could live a normal life because of his help, he would make it happen — even if he kept justifying it as “his job.”

“Sorry about the table. And still, Miss Kinbott, it’s not wise to give advice to someone whose situation you don’t understand. With that, I’ll take my leave,” Alex said, placing money for the damaged furniture.

“Um… have a good day,” she managed, trying to smile.

Alex grabbed the door handle, gave a slight nod, and stepped outside.

On the street, he lit a cigarette, inhaled the bitter smoke, and looked at the gray sky. At that moment, his phone exploded with dozens of notifications — his family had been watching the livestream and had seen his outburst of anger.

He smiled, unlocking the screen, and began typing that everything was fine, that he had just needed to vent… though he was hiding ninety percent of the truth.

The girls, however, flooded him with worried messages, begging him to rest today and not think about work. They knew that even if Alex was lying idle, his mind kept making plans.

Seeing how much they cared for him, Alex couldn’t help but smile. He promised he’d rest — and not work for the rest of the day.

He immediately received a flurry of heart emojis, and then the last message from Brunhilda: if he even thought about work, she would come and “have a little friendly chat.”

Not wanting to anger his strict Valkyrie, Alex laughed and pocketed his phone.

He flicked the ash… and heard a snap of fingers nearby. Turning his head, Alex saw Thing standing on a trash bin.

“Thing, why are you so far from Wednesday?” Alex asked.

Thing quickly gestured with his fingers, signaling to Alex that he should follow him.

“You want me to come with you?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thing quickly “replied” with gestures again, confirming that Alex had understood correctly. Seeing no reason to refuse, Alex shrugged slightly and allowed his curiosity to take over — he was curious to see exactly where Thing intended to lead him.

Thing nimbly climbed up Alex’s leg, settled on his shoulder, and pointed the way. As Alex followed, he asked questions, and Thing used gestures to indicate that he was leading him to Enid. Hearing that, Alex couldn’t help but smile — of course, he wasn’t going to go to Enid empty-handed.

First, he headed to the Flueger café to get a drink specifically for her. As they reached the entrance, Thing quickly slipped into Alex’s jacket to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

Inside, Alex noticed Larissa Weems talking with Mayor Noble Walker and Marilyn Thornhill. Smiling politely and nodding to the trio, he walked past them and placed his order. Unfortunately for him — and for the barista — Xavier was behind the counter, sent there as a volunteer.

Xavier considered Alex a rival for Wednesday’s attention, while Alex saw Xavier as just an annoying teenager.

As Xavier prepared a brightly decorated drink for Enid, he cast an assessing glance at Alex. Alex responded with a lazy yawn.

“Agent Voldigoad, I thought you’d be spending time with Miss Addams again,” Larissa Weems said, approaching with a cup of coffee.

“I’m off today, Miss Weems. Even I need a break sometimes,” Alex smiled, taking his coffee.

“Then I hope you won’t interfere with my students performing their duties. Or at least try not to disturb Miss Sinclair in her volunteer work,” Larissa noted, maintaining a friendly tone.

“What makes you think I’m going to Enid?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think your partner would prefer to drink… such colorful beverages,” Weems replied, pointing to the cup for Enid.

“Heh… caught me again, Miss Weems. But don’t worry — I take any task seriously,” Alex said, smirking slightly.

Larissa just smiled and shook her head, returning to her table. Alex grabbed the drinks and left the café. Thing immediately climbed out of his jacket and confidently led the way.

Alex didn’t even have to guess where Enid was — he already knew that Wednesday had swapped places with her to go to the Pilgrim World.

Soon Thing led him to a peculiar antique shop, then gestured and disappeared into an alley, clearly heading back to Wednesday. Alex watched the lively hand disappear and smiled.

He turned to the double blue doors of the shop. The windows displayed antique items, cassettes, records, stuffed animals, and other dusty vintage treasures.

Before Alex could enter, an elderly homeless man with a gray beard ran out of the shop. He hid something in his jacket and quickly dashed into the alley. Alex followed him with his eyes and remembered — this man was supposed to die tonight at Hyde’s hands.

Shaking his head, he pushed the door open. The bells above the entrance jingled.

“How can I hel—Alex?! You came! Why are you here?” Enid ran out from behind a shelf of stuffed animals, her eyes wide.

“Just decided to take a little day off. And since the Nevermore students are busy with volunteering, why not drop by?” Alex said, smiling as he ruffled Enid’s hair.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, smiling wider, enjoying his hand in her hair.

“Just… knew. And here’s your favorite drink,” Alex replied, keeping silent about the real source of information. He fully understood that Thing was acting on Wednesday’s request — which meant Wednesday and Enid had arranged something again, dragging him into another little deal.

“Wow! Thank you!” Enid beamed, taking the cup.

“Enid? Who’s here?” a male voice called from behind the shelf of stuffed animals.

Alex turned his head at the male voice. A slender boy in a Nevermore school uniform emerged from behind the shelf, wearing a blue cap. It was Ajax Petropolus — a Gorgon. Seeing him, Alex smiled warmly, which made Ajax a little flustered.

“You must be Ajax. I brought you coffee too. Here, go ahead,” Alex said, handing over the tray with the drinks.

“Um… thanks. But you didn’t have to,” Ajax mumbled, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing. Enid, do you want to show me what they sell here?” Alex said, still smiling warmly, turning to Enid.

Alex watched Enid, who sipped her drink with a satisfied expression. When he spoke to her, she nodded happily and practically dragged Alex by the hand, showing him every corner of the shop. Meanwhile, Ajax drank the coffee Alex had brought him, still unable to understand why Xavier always claimed Alex was some kind of monster. From any angle, he seemed far too good-natured to be a monster. Even too friendly, especially toward Outcasts, treating them as ordinary people.

Everyone at Nevermore had already gotten used to Alex’s presence and his genuine smile when he chatted with students, asking casual questions. And the taste of the honey cake he had made still lingered in the memories of everyone who had tried it after the Poe Cup.

Enid pulled Alex toward one of the shelves and began explaining the stuffed animals they were made from, and how these unfortunate creatures had become exhibits. Alex watched with interest as she spoke animatedly, taking short breaths between sentences, and he became even more convinced that Enid, like Alice, was a sweet and incredibly talkative girl. He was certain that Enid and Alice could chat for hours without pause on any topic.

While Alex enjoyed the company of the sweet, chatty shapeshifter, Dean was in the Pilgrim World. He stood near a wooden building with a sign reading “Old Iris Shop.” It was unusually crowded — visitors constantly entered and exited the store.

But what caught Dean’s attention was an even funnier sight: Wednesday, in perfect German, explaining to German tourists exactly how the iris candy was made. Dean didn’t understand the language, but the tourists’ facial expressions said it all: she was definitely not telling them anything pleasant.

Dean held a plate with samples of the iris candies, brought another to his lips, and wondered what could be going through Alex’s mind, being interested in a girl like Wednesday. Yet he was even more preoccupied with how Alex would explain himself to Lucina, Alice, and Samantha when he told them he had flirted with two other girls while working.

What Dean didn’t know was that Lucina, Alice, Samantha, and the other girls in Alex’s circle had long been aware of both Wednesday and Enid.

While Dean was lost in his thoughts, Wednesday had already managed to crush any desire the German tourists had to try the iris candies. They were practically pushing each other toward the exit, eager to leave the shop after her “lecture.”

“For God’s sake, what did you tell them? You didn’t tell them that iris is made from people, did you?” Dean said, approaching Wednesday and grabbing another sample.

“I only told them the truth,” Wednesday replied coldly, giving him an indifferent look.

“Yeah, sure. Listen… I heard that there are items in the chapel that belonged to Crackstone. Maybe we’ll find what we need there,” Dean said, tossing an iris candy into his mouth.

“Maybe. But what exactly are you hoping to find there? How could his things help?” Wednesday asked, trying to get more details.

“Not here. Better to talk outside. And yes, I’m still against you helping us… But your abilities might come in handy,” Dean said, shaking his head and pointing toward the exit.

“I’m not forcing you. I can manage without you,” Wednesday replied coldly.

“Yeah. And pick up new problems along the way,” Dean muttered, heading for the door.

If Alex hadn’t insisted, Dean would never have agreed to let Wednesday participate in the investigation. He didn’t like the idea of a teenager, whose abilities were limited to visions triggered by touch, getting involved in something so dangerous. Especially since the whole situation was connected to Darkness — an entity deadly to anyone who faced it.

Dean didn’t want any more pointless deaths. He didn’t want the blood of those he couldn’t save to pile higher on his hands.

Stepping outside, he looked around — and just then Wednesday passed by, dressed in an old-fashioned outfit worn by Pilgrim women. Shaking his head, Dean followed her, once again convinced that Alex should have gone into the Pilgrim World. Only Alex could handle Wednesday, who listened to no one, preferred to do everything herself, and tried to control every situation.

Following her further, Dean saw three teenagers trying to shove poor Eugene into stocks.

“Hello, pilgrims,” Wednesday said, stopping next to them.

“What, you want in the stocks too?” asked the boy who was trying to close the wooden shutters around Eugene’s neck.

Wednesday calmly stepped forward and stopped his hand, preventing the mechanism from closing. Dean followed and carefully examined the trio. Among them, he recognized Lucas — the mayor’s son, whose clothes were smeared with something brown, suspiciously similar to vomit.

The boys stared at Wednesday, who held the stocks open with a cold, unwavering gaze. One of them boldly shoved Eugene aside and, deciding to play the hero, lunged at Wednesday.

She caught his arm without any emotion, swept his legs out from under him, and the boy crashed onto the wooden planks. Wednesday immediately planted her foot on his throat and shot such a cold glare at the other two that they both stepped back at the same time.

“All right, kids… Scatter,” Dean said in a calm tone, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Or should I tell your parents that you’re acting like little thugs? Or didn’t my partner’s previous ‘lesson’ teach you enough?”

“Have her let go of our friend first,” Lucas managed to say, trying to sound confident, though his voice still wavered.

“I’ll say it again,” Dean said slowly. “Let the kid go and get home. And you, pale girl, get your foot off that poor boy — he’s already turning purple.”

He shifted his jacket just enough for Lucas to notice the grip of his gun.

Lucas and the other boy exchanged looks and immediately nodded vigorously — especially Lucas, who already had plenty of problems. The previous “educational talk” Alex had given them was still fresh in their memories: just thinking about it made their asses ache on their own.

Without a word, Wednesday stepped back, lifting her foot. The boy, now free, began gulping for air, clutching his throat.

The trio bolted away instantly, without even looking back.

Dean and Wednesday turned to Eugene, who stood covered in his own vomit — the result of overeating iris candies and then throwing up all over Lucas, which was exactly why they’d tried to shove him into the stocks.

“You need to wash up,” Wednesday said calmly, staring at the stunned Eugene.

Dean decided to help and went to get some water so the poor kid could at least clean his face and part of his clothes. While he was gone, Wednesday led Eugene somewhere out of sight. A minute later, Dean returned with a bottle of water and a wet cloth.

Wednesday then displayed an unexpected level of care — the kind no one expected from her, including Eugene and even Dean. Without the slightest hint of disgust, she began gently wiping down his clothes, making him look at least somewhat presentable.

“No one has ever protected me before…” Eugene said quietly, lowering his gaze in embarrassment.

“Then you should’ve learned to protect yourself, kid. My dad taught me and my brother from childhood so we could stand up for ourselves,” Dean said, leaning his back against a wooden post.

“You… you might be surprised, but I don’t have any friends at all,” Eugene muttered, glancing at Dean and Wednesday.

“You’re like my brother. Except I don’t want to strangle you the way I want to strangle him,” Wednesday said flatly, looking Eugene directly in the eyes.

“Sorry, kid, I’m not the best person for this kind of advice,” Dean said with a faint smile. “But one day, you’ll make friends. So try to be braver… as much as you can. And please, don’t puke your breakfast on them the first time you meet.”

“It was an accident! I just ate too much iris… I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Eugene mumbled, blushing even harder.

“Enough pointless talk. It’s time to go,” Wednesday said as she stood up. “We need to learn everything about Crackstone. And for that, we’ll have to break into the chapel.”

Without waiting for a response from either Dean or Eugene, she strode confidently toward the chapel building, which had immediately caught her attention upon arriving in the Pilgrim World. According to the tour guide, this was where items belonging to the founder of Jericho, Joseph Crackstone, were kept.

As she approached the doors, Wednesday noticed a lock. She was about to pick it when Dean stepped up, gently pushed her aside, drew the Blade of Cain, and with a single, confident motion broke the lock. Wednesday only had a moment to glimpse the strange bone blade, which Dean immediately hid. She wondered why he carried such a rare weapon, but there was no time to ask — Dean had already swung the door open.

“Eugene, stay outside and make sure no one comes near,” Wednesday said sternly as she followed him in.

Inside, the chapel looked like a personal museum dedicated to Joseph Crackstone. In the center stood a wax figure of the founder himself, surrounded by glass display cases with his belongings.

Dean carefully inspected the exhibits, pondering which item the spirit of Crackstone might be attached to, if he truly existed.

Wednesday also began exploring the room. Her gaze fell on a large painting to the right of the wax figure. It depicted a girl holding a book — the same one that had appeared in her visions. Seeing the familiar book, Wednesday realized she had found a clue.

Meanwhile, Dean was already standing by the display case holding that very book. Wednesday approached and stared at it intently as well.

“Is this some kind of special book?” Dean asked, noticing her keen interest.

“It appeared in my visions. It’s the Book of Shadows,” Wednesday replied calmly, lifting the glass lid of the display case.

“So Alex was right. He said Crackstone might have gotten a spellbook. And the name ‘Book of Shadows’… doesn’t exactly sound cheerful,” Dean said, frowning at the black cover.

“What else did he say?” Wednesday asked, shifting her gaze to him.

“That Crackstone either cursed the city or cursed himself — turning into a monster that was later sealed away,” Dean replied, shrugging.

Wednesday nodded knowingly, fully understanding why Alex had said that. But as soon as she opened the Book of Shadows, irritation flared anew — all the pages were completely blank. White, pristine, as if freshly printed.

The only lead she had been counting on turned out to be nothing.

Dean frowned as well — the empty book gave them no clues at all.

“Excellent… a fake,” Wednesday muttered, slamming the book shut in frustration.

Dean nodded in agreement, a thought flashing through his mind to immediately write to Alex and ask if he knew anything about the Book of Shadows. He was certain that if anyone could know about cursed books, it was Alex — a man whose knowledge he had seen in action more than once, especially during the times when the Men of Letters archive was being built in the Bunker.

But Dean hadn’t even pulled out his phone when the chapel door swung open. An angry woman stormed in, dragging Eugene by the ear like a misbehaving child.

“What iris did you forget in the chapel?! And who are you?” she barked, glancing first at Wednesday and then at Dean.

“Mrs. Arlin, how did this happen…” Wednesday said in the most innocent tone.

“Exactly—how did this happen?” Arlin continued grumpily. “I clearly told you the chapel is under restoration, and you have no business being here!”

“Ma’am, I’m an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Dean said calmly, showing his FBC badge. “I asked this young lady to guide me and show me everything.”

“Then what exactly are you interested in, agent?” Arlin’s tone noticeably softened.

“What do you know about this book?” Wednesday asked, holding up the Book of Shadows in front of her.

“This book is a copy,” Arlin replied as if stating the obvious.

“Really? Is that so?” Wednesday said sarcastically.

“And where is the original?” Dean asked in a more official tone.

“The book was stolen a month ago during the witch trial,” Arlin explained calmly.

“Anything else missing from Crackstone’s personal belongings?” Dean continued.

“No. Only the book was taken. Nothing else,” she said confidently.

“You had the only original here, and the ticket costs twenty-nine ninety-five,” Wednesday couldn’t resist adding another sarcastic remark.

“Hold your tongue, miss,” Arlin snapped. “You and your friend will go make some iris. No wandering around for no reason.”

“The real chapel depicted in the painting… where is it?” Wednesday asked coldly, staring Arlin down.

“I am not obliged to answer that question,” the woman cut her off.

“Still, answer. I insist,” Dean intervened, looking at her steadily and motionless, like a true agent.

“I don’t know,” Arlin shook her head. “I only recently moved to this town.”

Dean nodded and left the chapel, thinking about what else might be hidden among the old exhibits of the Pilgrim World. Wednesday was thinking the same thing. One question remained: where to find the real chapel?

Dean hadn’t even stepped beyond the complex when Wednesday caught up to him — already dressed in her school uniform. Her expression made it clear: she was also going to search for the chapel. Dean had neither the desire nor the energy to argue. And really, the only person who could handle Wednesday properly was Alex.

Meanwhile, Alex was having a wonderful time at Uriah Heep. He had even befriended the sweet shop owner, who offered him mushroom tea. Alex enjoyed trying strange drinks, but the taste of mushroom tea… he would remember it for a long time and promised himself he would never drink anything like it again.

However, not wanting to be rude, he drank the entire cup with a flawless smile, suppressing the wild urge to spit it out. Now Alex sat on a swivel chair behind the counter, temporarily acting as the shop owner — the owner had said there was no need for him to sit idle, and that he might as well help.

Spinning on the chair, Alex watched as Enid combed the badger taxidermy, chatting non-stop. He responded in his usual light tone, discussing any topic that came to her mind.

“Listen, Alex,” Enid said, giving him a sharp look. “I want to go for a walk behind the greenhouse today. There’s going to be a blue moon. It only happens once every twenty-three years. The view—it’ll drive you crazy.”

“Really?” Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise, still spinning. “I didn’t even know the moon could be blue. I’ve usually seen it red or orange. I wonder how it looks in a blue shade.”

“By the way…” Ajax interjected. “Couples usually go there. On dates. Just a heads-up.”

Alex kept spinning and nodded calmly, while Enid shot Ajax a glare so sharp that he almost tucked his tail. Realizing the hint, he quickly looked away.

Then Enid’s irritated gaze smoothly shifted back to Alex, who was still spinning serenely on the chair. Her patience began to melt rapidly.

“ALEX!” she finally exploded. “I’ve been flirting with you all day! Dropping hints! Combing these badgers at the same time, hoping you’d get that you MUST ask me out! And even when I INVITED YOU MYSELF—you DIDN’T REACT AT ALL!”

She jabbed at him with her clawed finger.

Alex stopped the chair and smiled.

“I know. And I returned your feelings. Don’t be mad. I just didn’t think you’d get this angry. And I’ll be happy to watch the blue moon with you. You just didn’t let me finish. I was about to ask you after you finished your volunteer work.”

“You… wanted to ask me out?” Enid’s voice carried a mixture of hope and confusion.

“Of course,” Alex replied softly. “I’d be delighted to admire the blue moon in your company, Enid. So… will you go on a date with me?”

“Hooray!” Enid jumped with excitement. “Of course I’ll go!”

She practically danced in place, joy radiating from her. She purred so loudly that the shop owner peeked out from the back room.

Seeing the source of the noise, she smiled and said,

“Oh, youth…” and went back to drinking her mushroom tea.

While Enid continued celebrating, Alex heard a notification on his phone. A message from Dean—a brief report on their find. Seeing the title Book of Shadows, Alex opened the archive and sent Dean the necessary file. Then he read a short follow-up:

“We’re going to look for the old chapel.”

Dean ended the conversation.

Pocketing his phone, Alex looked at the jubilant Enid and thought that by evening he should prepare something nice—she definitely deserved a truly memorable date.

To be continued…

(I actually didn’t expect Alex to visit the Psychologist. Or maybe I did, and I planned it. Who knows, maybe it was the voices in my head that told me to do it. Who knows, but it certainly wasn’t me. I thought about it for a while, and I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be worth splitting the two events into two chapters, like one chapter about Wednesday’s investigations and the other about Alex hanging out with Enid. That’s cool and all, and even cute. But I want to move the plot toward the Raven Ball, and the first one—boop, spoiler. And what happens to Dean—boop, another spoiler. Well, you get the idea.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep