After the chaos caused by the sudden ignition of Joseph Crackstone’s statue finally settled, Alex faced something he absolutely did not expect. When his and Wednesday’s improvised concert against the backdrop of the burning fountain came to an end, he hoped to slip away quietly in the general commotion.

But unfortunately for him, Larissa Weems had watched their duet with sharp, unblinking eyes. She grabbed both Wednesday and Alex and practically shoved them into her car to take them back to Nevermore immediately.

Sitting in the back seat next to Wednesday, Alex caught one last glimpse of Dean’s smirking face. Dean, standing at a distance, waved mockingly at him — and the words “Good luck, brother” were easy to read on his lips.

Alex watched Dean disappear from view, sighed, and glanced at Wednesday. She sat perfectly straight, her expression as neutral as ever… though the corners of her lips were suspiciously lifted. Alex flicked his gaze to the rear-view mirror — and met Larissa Weems’ cold, glacial stare.

He swallowed and tried to speak:

“Miss Weems…”

“Not. Now,” Larissa snapped, her teeth clenched tightly enough that she didn’t even need more words.

Alex coughed awkwardly and turned away. He genuinely couldn’t understand why she was this angry — after all, he just played the violin. He wasn’t the one who set the fountain on fire. If he had been the arsonist, the monument wouldn’t be burning — it would’ve launched into orbit with a fireworks trail visible from neighboring states.

He leaned back, pulled out his phone, and decided to keep himself busy. Since no one wanted to talk to him, why not text Jesse? He asked whether the FBC agents had managed to locate the places where the fragments of Amara’s power might be. But their work-related exchange quickly turned into a friendly conversation.

Wednesday, sitting beside him, glanced at his screen from the corner of her eye. When she saw the contact name “Jesse Faden ♥,” she felt an unpleasant, icy sting of jealousy.

“Who is that?” she asked in a flat, dangerously calm tone.

“The Director of the Federal Bureau of Control. Jesse Faden,” Alex replied, continuing to type.

“And you… talk like friends?” Her eyes were practically burning a hole in his side.

“Something like that. We don’t have a boss–subordinate dynamic. I’m more of a freelancer for her. Same with Dean and Sam. Officially we’re Bureau agents, but our schedules are flexible. We don’t have to sit in the office… though there’s still plenty of paperwork,” Alex said, rubbing his chin.

Wednesday nodded, but the tension around her did not subside. Larissa Weems, overhearing the conversation, even turned her head slightly — her professional curiosity piqued. The principal of Nevermore knew far more about the Bureau than most people, and the fact that Alex worked there as a freelancer was news to her.

While Alex continued replying to Jesse, a new message popped up — from Saga. She wrote that after her vacation, she planned to join the FBC. Alex smiled and wished her luck.

Wednesday glanced at the screen again — and again saw a woman’s name. Her eyes grew even colder. Something dark and unfamiliar stirred inside her — an urge to stab Alex in the chest. She even regretted not bringing a knife.

Alex, absorbed in texting, didn’t notice the icy stare beside him. He sent Saga a photo of her mother — the very one who had been part of the secret Belladonna Club during her time at Nevermore. Seeing the picture, Saga immediately bombarded him with questions.

“And how many more women do you talk to?” Wednesday asked quietly — too quietly to be harmless.

Alex put the phone away and turned to her.

“That’s Saga Anderson. Soon-to-be former FBI agent. We worked together in Bright Falls. She has a husband and a daughter. And… two very strange grandfathers. Also, her mother, Freya Anderson, studied in the same generation as your parents. And with Principal Weems,” he added, nodding slightly toward the front seat.

Wednesday nodded, and the coldness in her eyes slightly eased — Alex’s words had sounded convincing enough. She didn’t fully understand where this strange feeling had come from. She simply didn’t like that Alex was so freely communicating with other women. She was already struggling to tolerate how Enid constantly clung to him.

Larissa Weems, listening to the conversation while keeping a close eye on the road, suddenly raised an eyebrow, glancing at Alex through the rearview mirror. She wasn’t at all surprised that Alex knew the Anderson family. She remembered Freya Anderson well — a strange, adventurous girl who was always seeking excitement. And her two restless, perpetually drunk relatives… Yes, that duo was unforgettable.

“I didn’t expect Freya’s daughter to go work for the FBI. How is she? And… how are those two relatives of hers?” Larissa asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Unfortunately, Freya Anderson passed away a few years ago,” Alex replied calmly. “She had a falling out with Thor and Odin and took her daughter away from all that life after her husband disappeared. Fortunately, Saga managed to visit the two perpetually drunk old men, and even brought her husband and daughter along. They tried not to drink… but, honestly, not very successfully.”

“I see… it’s sad to hear,” Weems said quietly. “Freya was a good girl. All our adventures — they were always her ideas. Her future husband, Warlin, rescued her from trouble so many times… How did he disappear?”

“No one knows for sure,” Alex shrugged slightly. “A storm hit Bright Falls, lightning struck him… and after that, he vanished.”

He remained silent about the real story of Warlin Door.

Larissa only nodded sadly, lost in her memories. Wednesday, meanwhile, was observing Alex closely — and her gaze grew increasingly inquisitive. Alex noticed her interest and decided to tease her a little.

He opened his gallery and showed a photo of himself, Emmett, Saga, Casey, and Alan Wake. Alex turned the screen toward Wednesday. She first raised an eyebrow, then leaned closer. For a moment, her eyes widened — she immediately recognized Alan Wake, the author of the books she had reread in her youth. And of course, she recognized Alex Casey in his FBI agent uniform — the hero of those very detective novels.

A mixture of surprise, interest, and new questions flashed in her eyes. Alex smiled, put the phone away, and made a gesture that clearly hinted: “An answer for an answer.”

Wednesday squinted coldly, but curiosity won out. To satisfy it a little, Alex told her about the unusual gift of the Anderson family. Larissa Weems, still focused on the road, confirmed every word.

When he finished, Wednesday surely had even more questions swirling in her mind. Meanwhile, Alex messaged Saga about Nevermore — noting that if Logan ever awakened his powers, it might be worth considering sending their daughter to such a place. He sent Saga detailed information about the academy so she could discuss it with her husband, David.

Saga replied with a brief “Thanks” — and then stopped messaging. Alex put his phone away, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his seat.

However, somewhere halfway to the academy, Larissa’s phone began ringing incessantly, and with each incoming call, her expression grew harsher.

When they reached Nevermore, Weems parked the car behind the buses from which students were exiting. She got out first and, with a strict gesture, signaled for Alex and Wednesday to follow her. Every call she had received on the way clearly did not bode well — some were even direct complaints about Wednesday and her “disastrous” volunteer work at Pilgrim’s World.

Getting out of the car, Alex stretched lazily and looked around the courtyard. Students were gathered near the buses, talking, laughing. Among them he spotted Enid, who immediately waved at him with a wide, radiant smile.

Alex smiled back and raised a hand in greeting.

“You two. My office. Now,” Larissa Weems said coldly.

Her tone left no room for discussion.

Alex’s smile didn’t even flicker. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he calmly followed the furious principal, still not understanding why he was being dragged into Nevermore as well. Wednesday, meanwhile, walked beside him with a cold, motionless expression — as if none of this concerned her at all.

Once inside Larissa Weems’s office, Alex dropped into a chair with the same carefree ease and crossed one leg over the other. Wednesday sat next to him, watching the principal with an empty, patient gaze. Larissa paced from corner to corner, as if trying to assemble her thoughts into something coherent. Alex, resting his cheek on his fist, waited patiently for the inevitable storm to break.

Turning his head, he met Wednesday’s eyes and smiled slightly. Then, without changing expression, he made a gesture as if pulling something out of an inner pocket. Wednesday raised a brow, waiting to see what he intended to show her.

After rummaging in an imaginary pocket, Alex solemnly produced… his fingers folded into a heart.

Wednesday looked at him as if he were a complete lunatic. But Alex only kept beaming with that stupid smile of his.

Larissa Weems, pacing around the office and answering endless calls, caught sight of the scene — and her teeth clenched even harder. From the outside, it looked like they were flirting while the world burned around them. That infuriated her even more. In her eyes, Alex and Wednesday were now the perfect reflection of Gomez and Morticia — calm, cold, flirtatious, as though problems simply did not apply to them.

Alex even felt the room grow a little colder — despite the fireplace still burning. He shifted his gaze to the enraged principal and tried to hide his smile behind a mask of seriousness.

“This is a complete disaster!” Larissa Weems finally exploded. “The mayor is furious! Alumni are calling, parents, outraged townspeople! Everyone is demanding an explanation! And so am I!” She pointed an accusing finger at both of them — Alex and Wednesday.

“I would have led the inquisition. But I left my thumbscrews and rack at home,” Wednesday said calmly.

“I’d help too,” Alex added in the same steady tone. “But unfortunately, my torture chair is currently being used by my little assistants.”

“Miss Addams. Mister Voldigoad,” Larissa hissed through clenched teeth, “you are both walking on very thin ice. What you did in the town square goes far beyond acceptable.”

“But, Miss Weems…” Alex began — only to meet her glacial stare.

“No ‘but’, Mister Voldigoad. Even if you are not a Nevermore student, I will find a way to deal with you,” Larissa said, continuing to bore holes into him with her furious gaze.

“Miss Weems, I had nothing to do with it. My hands are cleaner than ever. I would never do something like that. I’d sooner launch the statue into orbit than burn it. I swear on my brother’s handsome face,” Alex said with an innocent expression, raising a hand to show he was serious.

“I swear on my late scorpion. My hands are clean,” Wednesday added with the same dead seriousness.

Larissa Weems clenched her teeth so hard it nearly produced a grinding sound. She was certain — Alex hadn’t set the statue on fire. What irritated her was something else entirely: during all the chaos, he had calmly played violin in a duet with Wednesday.

Her glare shot toward Wednesday like a bolt of lightning. Wednesday’s face remained blank. Weems had no proof, but she knew — knew — that Wednesday was behind it.

“I have no evidence, but trust me, Miss Addams,” she said in an icy voice. “I see perfectly well what’s going on. Wherever you go, trouble follows.”

“If that means standing against a century of lies and Outcast discrimination — or something worse,” Wednesday replied calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Larissa raised a brow.

“Jericho. Why put on this circus? You know the real history of the local outcasts… the true story of Joseph Crackstone,” Wednesday said, her tone even colder.

“I know that story. In broad strokes,” Larissa Weems said, already understanding where Wednesday was going.

“Then why help bury it? Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it,” Wednesday said, continuing to glare coldly at Weems.

Larissa inhaled deeply, trying not to snap.”That’s where you and I differ. You see disaster. I see opportunity. A chance to correct the mistakes of the past. To begin a new chapter for Outcasts and Normies.”

She turned to Alex:”And what do you think about all this, Mister Voldigoad?”

Alex was resting his cheek on his fist, quietly listening to Wednesday and Weems argue. He saw nothing inherently wrong in concealing the horrors of the past — memories often drove people to repeat the same mistakes, over and over, until the ending became tragically predictable.

He saw little point in reopening the wound of Crackstone’s genocide against Outcasts. Yes, it was a horrific chapter of history… but four hundred years ago the world was different — an age of witch hunts, when people were burned based on nothing more than suspicion, a whisper, a strange look. Some of the darkest pages of humanity.

But Alex understood why Wednesday clung to this so fiercely: she had seen the burning with her own eyes — visions leave a mark that cannot be ignored. For her, it was personal, painful, real. That was why she refused to accept the celebration of Crackstone — a murderer who burned dozens alive.

When Alex heard his name, he lifted his gaze. Wednesday now stood directly across from Weems, ready to continue the argument. Both women were looking at him — waiting for an answer.

Alex sighed heavily, reached into his pocket for a cigarette… and immediately put it back under Weems’s sharp glare. Instead, he pulled out a piece of candy.

He had no desire whatsoever to insert himself into this clash of worldviews. In arguments like these, there are no winners — and never will be.

“Forgive me, my dear Wednesday,” he said calmly, placing the candy in his mouth, “but I’m not going to take your side.”

“Why?” Wednesday frowned.

“Because you’re basing your stance on your visions. You saw what happened four hundred years ago. Saw Outcasts burned alive. And I, in my line of work, have seen people burn other people — here and now. And even if everything is done exactly the way you want, my dear Wednesday… nothing will change. Ever.” Alex said, his voice steady.

He neatly folded the candy wrapper.

Larissa Weems noticed the change in his gaze.

“Perhaps you’ll share your opinion after all, Mister Voldigoad?”

Alex nodded.

“Of course, Miss Weems. Even if we remove the Outcasts from the equation, as you call them… nothing will change. People have always feared what they don’t understand. It’s simple ignorance. And excuses like ‘it’s God’s will’ are always easy to find. And don’t think the Outcasts are some cute creatures that poop rainbows and fart butterflies. No. Dean and I have seen a lot.”

He interlaced his fingers, thinking carefully about how to phrase it.

“Peace is hard to achieve in any world. Taking Wednesday’s side means reopening old wounds that could spark a new war. Accepting the past means siding with the weaker party. And no matter how much you want it, Normies will never understand Outcasts. Without understanding another’s pain, true peace is impossible. And believe me, it doesn’t take much of a reason to start a new war. It will start on its own. Always.”

Alex finished speaking and folded a small origami bird from the candy wrapper.

“So you want everyone to stay silent?” Wednesday asked, still frowning.

“My dear Wednesday… the world is beautiful. And simultaneously disgusting. Everyone has their own thoughts, desires, and fears. If you want true peace between Outcasts and Normies, you’d have to take away everyone’s freedom of choice and will. But then, what kind of world would that be?”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Think about it yourself: could you say the same thing to a child whose mother was killed by a werewolf? Or to the child of a werewolf whose mother was killed by a hunter? You all create hatred yourselves without even realizing it. A child, seeing the death of someone close, will seek revenge… and the cycle begins again. An endless circle of pain.

If you want peace — change the world itself. If you can.”

Alex placed the origami on Larissa Weems’s desk and rose from his seat.

“It’s better if everyone keeps their own opinion… and doesn’t impose it on others.”

Wednesday and Larissa Weems looked into Alex’s eyes — eyes with no light, no warmth. Only the cold, calm gaze of someone used to seeing the world without illusions. Someone who had already witnessed such things firsthand.

Exiting the principal’s office, Alex sighed deeply and shook his head. He fully understood the passion of those who want to make the world a better place — but it only works for a while. As long as any being can think, it will desire. And no matter how hard you try to create a perfect world for everyone, there will always be that one percent who won’t like it.

Once outside, Alex looked at the setting sun, shook his head, and pulled out a cigarette. The bitter taste of smoke helped clear his mind of unnecessary thoughts.

“I need to think about something good,” he decided.

For example, about his upcoming date with Enid… and what tasty treat he could prepare for the werewolf girl.

While he stood, leaning against the cold stone beam in the inner courtyard of Nevermore, Wednesday approached from behind and stopped beside him. She quietly looked up at Alex, trying to understand and accept his point of view on the situation with the Outcasts.

“Do you really think the world can’t be changed?” she asked calmly.

“The world doesn’t need to be changed,” Alex smiled gently, gazing at the sky. “It’s beautiful in its messy, chaotic way. Yes, it’s full of darkness, but the light is always there too. All together, it makes it colorful.”

“I don’t think that way. I saw what Joseph Crackstone did to the Outcasts,” Wednesday said, staring into his eyes.

“And you were scared,” Alex answered calmly. “That’s normal. Everyone is scared. Fear sometimes even helps you move forward.”

He raised his hand, as if to casually brush her hair, but immediately stopped himself.

“Even you get scared?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow, noticing his movement.

“Why would I be scared if I can just kill it?” Alex smirked. “But don’t think about it too much, my dear Wednesday. If Crackstone shows up — I’ll kill him. Or you will. As in the prophecy.”

She nodded.

“Alright. I have a question.”

“What is it?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at her.

“What kind of weapon did your partner have? Why does he carry a blade as if it were made from an animal’s bone?” Wednesday asked, recalling the weapon Dean held when chasing the monster.

Alex leaned slightly toward her, almost touching her nose.

“I’ll give only a hint. Whether you figure it out — depends on you and your cleverness. If you guess, I’ll give you something. Dean’s weapon is the First Blade, carrying the Original Sin. Now think for yourself, my beautiful Wednesday.”

She blinked but continued looking him straight in the eyes. His smile remained on his lips even just inches from her face. The students in the courtyard, watching from afar, were already whispering excitedly.

Wednesday became even more confused: each of his answers gave her a dozen new questions.

With a slight smile, Alex straightened up, put his hands in his pockets, and walked away, leaving her lost in thought.

Once outside the grounds of Nevermore, he paused and remembered an inconvenient detail: Larissa Weems had brought him to Nevermore, and he didn’t have a car to get back to the city.

Exhaling a cloud of white vapor in irritation, Alex frowned — and his body flared with lightning. In the next second, he vanished, leaving only crackling traces on the ground.

A moment later, he was already at the hotel, where he ran into a grinning Dean. Of course, Dean didn’t miss the chance to tease Alex about being “scolded like a child.”

In response, Alex showed him the middle finger and silently went to take a shower.

At the same time, Wednesday returned to her room and decided to clear her head in the only way that ever worked for her—by continuing to work on her novel. Letting her thoughts sink into the story and pushing everything else aside, she typed word after word on her typewriter. Behind her, following an entirely different rhythm, Enid was sorting through outfits for her upcoming date with Alex.

Enid had pulled literally everything out of her closet—anything to find what she considered the perfect outfit. She tried on one look after another, giggling, twirling in front of the mirror, her laughter drowned out by the steady clacking of typewriter keys. After putting on yet another option, Enid sighed in defeat—like any girl facing the eternal dilemma: “I have nothing to wear.”

Holding a colorful top in her hands, she stared at it thoughtfully, then at the pink blouse lying beside it.

“Which do you think is better, this top or this blouse?” Enid asked, turning toward Wednesday and lifting both items.

“They both look… specifically for you. Pick whichever,” Wednesday replied, slightly turning her head.

“I just wonder which one Alex would like more,” Enid said dreamily as she compared the clothes.

Wednesday paused for a moment.

“And why would he have to like it?” she asked coldly, studying her roommate.

“Because today we’re going behind the greenhouse to look at the blue moon. I want to look nice for him. He looks… hot no matter what he wears,” Enid admitted, pressing the top against her chest.

Wednesday’s fingers twitched above the keys. She froze, and a shadow of something dark flickered across her face. Thing, sitting on the desk nearby, noticed the sudden shift in her expression and was already preparing to gesture something like, “Told you so.” But one murderous glance from Wednesday was enough to make it scurry away to save its “life.”

Enid noticed nothing—Wednesday was sitting with her back to her. She only felt a sudden chill run through the room and decided it must mean the night would be colder than she expected. So she settled on the pink top with the fluffy trim and a light pink denim jacket.

Wednesday, meanwhile, wrestled with an unfamiliar feeling, mistaking it for irritation: irritation that Alex was going on a date instead of investigating the monster. But in truth, it was the simplest, most human emotion—jealousy. A feeling she didn’t even recognize.

“I’m so excited to go on a date with Alex!” Enid continued, already buttoning up her jacket. “It’ll be nice to take my mind off today’s nightmare. But honestly… I loved how Alex looked with the violin. And how you played with him—if the fountain hadn’t caught fire, it could’ve been a real concert.”

“Mmm… Is that so. I didn’t think he could play either,” Wednesday said, typing a little louder to drown out her own thoughts.

“I wonder what kind of psychopath would sabotage such a cheerful event?” Enid wondered aloud.

“You’ll be late,” Wednesday calmly reminded her, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Yeah, you’re right! Wish me luck,” Enid said with a bright smile.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. In a very painful way,” Wednesday stated flatly, without turning around.

Enid smiled, completely missing the subtext in Wednesday’s words, and ran out of the room with a joyful sparkle in her eyes.

At the same time, Alex was at the hotel, finishing the final preparations under Dean’s intense, almost disapproving gaze. Trying to surprise Enid with something sweet and delicious, Alex decided to make Japanese strawberry sandwiches, completely forgetting that Dean wouldn’t mind getting one of those “treats” for himself. So besides cooking, he also had to fend off Dean’s attempts to steal at least one sandwich.

Once the sweet sandwiches with various fillings were neatly packed into a container, Alex started getting dressed. He threw on a thin black coat, packed the container into his backpack, and was ready to go. Before leaving, he looked at Dean, who looked like a sulky, dissatisfied child.

“Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone. I made dinner for you; heat it up in the microwave yourself. And I left the sweet sandwiches too. Don’t drink too much beer, and don’t stay up watching TV late,” Alex said, struggling to keep a smile.

“Yeah, mom. Now get going to your date. And stop acting like a caring mother, damn it. I’m a grown man; I know what to do without you,” Dean grumbled, flipping Alex the middle finger.

“Yeah-yeah. Dean-chan is grown up. If anything happens—call me. And I doubt Enid will be allowed out of the dorm for too long, given Nevermore’s rules,” Alex replied, opening the door.

Dean lazily waved his hand and reached into the mini-fridge to grab the leftover sweet sandwiches. Alex just shook his head and stepped out of the room.

Outside, he turned into an alley, pulled the motorcycle out of his inventory, and soon merged onto the road. On his way to Nevermore, Alex thought about Enid’s complicated relationship with her mother and considered how to gently steer the conversation toward it, helping her gain confidence in advance and preventing her mother’s pressure from breaking her. He knew how hard it was for Enid to cope with not being able to transform into a werewolf yet, and her mother’s demands only heightened her anxiety.

Reaching the main gates of Nevermore, Alex cut the engine and decided not to draw attention—entering through the main entrance was definitely not an option. He stowed the motorcycle back in his inventory, pushed off the ground, jumped onto the academy’s stone wall, and calmly walked along it toward the greenhouse.

Meanwhile, Enid was standing behind the greenhouse, hiding between the buses so no one would notice her. She paced back and forth, nervously glancing at her wristwatch, torn between thoughts: “Am I too late?” “Is it too early?” “Maybe I should text Alex?”

But then she immediately scolded herself, deciding she would seem clingy. All the while, she completely ignored the fact that she had been falling asleep peacefully for the past few days after sending Alex at least five consecutive messages.

Pacing back and forth, Enid couldn’t gather her thoughts.

“Miss Sinclair, why are you still not in the dorm at such a late hour?” a strict male voice called out.

“I… I…” Enid stammered, slowly turning her head back.

But there was no one behind her.

Her first thought was: “A GHOST!” — and Enid’s imagination immediately filled in dozens of horrors. Her face turned pale in an instant.

On the roof of the school bus, Alex crouched, watching as Enid’s expression flickered between fear and shock, then back to fear again. He struggled to hold back his laughter.

“Enid, I’m here,” Alex said, barely restraining himself from bursting out laughing.

Hearing the male voice, Enid didn’t even realize at first that it was Alex — all her thoughts were consumed by a single idea: a ghost was somewhere nearby. The thought terrified her even more, and in a panic, she mentally cursed all her friends who had dragged her to watch a ghost horror movie.

Pressing her back against the bus, beneath which Alex was perched, Enid nervously glanced around.

“Go away, ghost! I’m not afraid of you! If you don’t leave, I’ll claw you to pieces!” she shouted in a trembling voice, releasing her werewolf claws.

Alex, crouched directly above her, barely restrained his smile. Frightened Enid, swinging her claws and growling to scare off a nonexistent ghost, looked so adorable that it took all his willpower not to laugh out loud.

Swinging her arms, Enid accidentally scraped the side of the bus with her claws. Sparks flew from the impact, leaving four clear grooves in the metal.

“I don’t know what the bus did to offend you, but I’m up here,” Alex said, still holding back a laugh.

Enid froze. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her head… and saw familiar, rainbow-colored eyes in the moonlight. Relief washed over her in a wave unlike anything she had ever felt.

Alex calmly dangled his legs from the roof, watching as Enid pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. His gaze wandered over her pink outfit — which, he thought, perfectly matched her bright and sunny personality.

“You nearly scared me to death!” Enid exclaimed in a hurt tone. “I thought it was a ghost.”

“How was I supposed to know you’d mistake me for a ghost?” Alex smirked. “And anyway, why are you scared of a ghost? You’re a werewolf. And you go to a school where half the students are creatures far scarier than any ghost.”

“That’s not the same thing!” Enid huffed, pouting. “It’s all the girls! They made me watch that awful movie!”

“Of course, of course, such naughty girls,” Alex nodded with mock seriousness. “Alright, climb up here. I’ve got something to cheer you up.”

He removed his backpack from his shoulders, smiling down at her from above.

Hearing this, Enid’s face lit up with a bright smile, and she immediately started figuring out how to climb onto the bus roof. Quickly scanning the surroundings, she found a suitable spot, pushed off, and within a minute was sitting next to Alex, swinging her legs over the edge of the school bus roof.

Alex looked into her eyes — eyes literally shining with curiosity — and smiled. He unzipped the backpack under her impatient gaze and pulled out a container of sweet sandwiches. When he opened the lid, the sweet aroma of cream and fresh fruit immediately hit Enid’s nose.

She stared at the treats with wide eyes. She already knew that Alex loved sweets — but even more, she knew that he was an incredible cook.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing at the colorful contents of the container.

“Sweet sandwiches with fresh fruit,” Alex replied with a slight smirk. “Since we’re on a date, I thought we needed something tasty. I could have brought meat — I know how much you love it — but I figured sweets would suit you better.”

“You’re right, I do love meat,” Enid nodded cheerfully. “I even have steak-scented candles — they’re amazing! Can I take one?”

“Of course. I didn’t bring them just to look pretty. If you want, eat them all,” Alex said, sliding the container closer to her.

“I’m afraid I’ll gain weight if I eat everything,” Enid mumbled, shyly choosing a strawberry sandwich.

“It doesn’t matter. The main thing is that you enjoy it. You are who you are, and no one has the right to decide how you should be,” Alex replied gently.

“My mom doesn’t think that way…” Enid muttered, lowering her head. “She keeps asking if I’ve managed to shift or not.”

“Don’t listen to her. Even if you never shift, there will always be people around to support you. And… no offense, but I think your mother is putting the wrong kind of pressure on you. This is your life, and only you can decide when and how to change anything,” Alex said, softly running his hand through her hair.

“Unfortunately, she doesn’t see it that way,” Enid sighed. “She always shows disappointment when she finds out I still haven’t shifted.”

“Enid, learn to stand your ground. I understand your… werewolf life — at least partially,” Alex continued, stroking her hair.

“No, you don’t understand,” Enid looked up at him. “If I can’t shift, I can’t become part of the pack. And I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then create your own pack. You don’t have to fit in with others. You need to be Enid Sinclair — not just ‘another’ in the pack. If someone can’t accept you for who you are, then they simply aren’t worth your time. Don’t change for others. Stay yourself — bright, cheerful, real,” Alex said with a warm smile, looking her directly in the eyes.

“No one’s ever said that to me… well, except Wednesday. She said there’s nothing wrong with being alone. Or dying alone,” Enid said, mimicking Wednesday’s cold tone.

“Very much like her,” Alex chuckled. “Alright, enough of the sad stuff. I didn’t bring these sandwiches to ruin your mood — I brought them to lift it. Tell me instead how you ended up at Nevermore.”

He gently tapped her on the nose.

Enid pressed her reddened nose with her hands and gave Alex an offended look, though she knew deep down — he was right. Everything he said was true. Yes, it was hard to change instantly… but maybe, being with him, she could.

At Alex’s request, Enid began recounting her first day at Nevermore — how nervous she was, how scared, and the incredible relief she felt realizing her mother wouldn’t constantly monitor every move. Alex listened intently — occasionally teasing her about the most ridiculous moments.

Enid pouted in response and even lightly tapped his shoulder, protesting, “I wasn’t laughing at the time!”

But in the end, they both laughed — lost in memories and enjoying the moment.

To be continued…

(Hmm… I’ve been thinking, and thinking, and then thinking again. Basically, I haven’t come up with anything about the upcoming Raven Ball. I’ve planned a couple of events, of course. But I’ve also decided how they should happen. But about the Ball itself, I still haven’t decided. After all, I need to make sure Enid doesn’t go with Alex. Pupupupu. It’s complicated.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep