Alex and Dean kept drinking beer and devouring the tacos Alex had brought straight from Mexico right up until sunset.

Over food and bottles, the conversation naturally turned to the monster called a Hyde — a creature neither of them had ever encountered before. Still, the general picture was more or less clear: the Hyde they were hunting was under the influence of the power of Darkness, which automatically made killing it far more complicated.

In Dean’s opinion, they had long possessed weapons capable of killing almost any dangerous creature, so there was no real need to rack their brains over how exactly to kill yet another monster.

Alex simply nodded in agreement. Even without the Ring of Death, he had been killing monsters long before all this talk of balance, Reapers, and other metaphysical nonsense.

At the same time, Alex understood perfectly well that the Ring of Death on his finger gave him far more possibilities than he had ever shown. Most of those abilities had to be carefully hidden, limiting himself to a few harmless magical tricks, runes, and things that wouldn’t raise unnecessary suspicion.

During the conversation, they also discussed how to track down the Hyde, deciding that their first priority was to eliminate the chained hound Laurel Gates was keeping on a leash, and only then move on to Laurel herself.

Dean, of course, had no idea that the monster they were looking for was literally right under their noses. When Alex passed him all the information about Hydes, Dean focused only on the main traits, ignoring the finer details. He knew that Hydes eventually lost their human appearance, and so he never even considered the possibility that, for now, the Hyde could still look like an ordinary human.

Nothing pointed to the monster being Tyler — Sheriff Donovan’s son. The guy who worked every day at the Weathervane Café. The very same café where Alex and Dean bought coffee every morning and almost always ran into Tyler face to face.

When it finally got dark, Alex and Dean left the hotel without another word and got into the Impala.

Stopping by the chapel with the cemetery behind it, they got out of the car and grabbed the shovels. Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, they approached Mayor Walker’s grave.

Dean looked at Alex with a silent question written plainly on his face: are you absolutely sure you didn’t kill him for real and actually staged his death?

Alex raised his thumb, signaling that everything had been done properly.

Dean nodded, and the two of them started digging.

As they worked, they kept glancing around from time to time — Jericho was a small town, and the chance that someone might suddenly decide to take a nighttime walk through the cemetery was very real. More than anything, Alex hoped Sheriff Donovan wouldn’t suddenly show up, since he had been a close friend of Mayor Walker.

Fortunately, this time luck was on their side.

Digging up the grave took almost two hours. Most of that time wasn’t spent on the digging itself, but on constant checks to make sure no one was watching them.

And then, finally, Dean’s shovel struck something solid.

“There,” he muttered, crouching down to brush away the dirt.

Alex immediately opened the coffin and saw Mayor Walker inside.

“So what now?” Dean asked, climbing out of the pit. “Go on, do your Death tricks. We still have to bury all this back.”

Alex looked at him and nodded.

Crouching down, he touched Mayor Walker’s forehead with two fingers. In the same instant, the mayor’s eyes flew open, and he gasped sharply for air, as if surfacing from deep underwater.

Alex calmly watched as the mayor came to his senses. Giving him a little time to process what was happening, Alex lit a cigarette and waited patiently for him to calm down.

Mayor Walker looked around, trying to understand where he was and what was happening. He only remembered finding a lead on who might be the main culprit and heading to tell his friend—Sheriff Donovan—about it, as he always did, in their usual place.

After that, his memories were blurred: the road, a shove in the back, sharp pain—and darkness. Then there had been some kind of conversation he barely remembered, but one thing he knew for certain—they had told him to stay dead so no one else would get hurt.

“Good morning, Mayor Walker. Sleep well?” Alex asked with a faint smile, extending a hand.

“Is this some kind of joke, Agent?” the mayor muttered, taking the help and getting to his feet.

“You could say that,” Alex replied. “Now let’s get you home. But remember—for everyone else, you’re still dead. At least until things settle down.”

Mayor Walker nodded silently, fully aware that if anyone saw him alive, not only he but his entire family would be in danger.

Dean helped Noble climb out of the grave, after which he and Alex quickly began filling it back in, careful not to leave even the slightest trace. Once they were finished at the cemetery, Alex and Dean got into the Impala together with the very-much-alive Mayor Walker.

The drive home passed in conversation. Noble shared his suspicions and everything he had managed to uncover over the past few days. He wanted to help—if only to repay Alex and Dean for what they had done for him.

Dean already knew most of what he heard from Alex, but the perspective of someone who had independently come so close to the truth was valuable in its own right.

When the Impala stopped in front of the Walkers’ house, Noble stepped out and stared for a long moment at the dark windows. No lights were on inside. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain his family had gone through after he had “died” to the rest of the world.

Dean quietly patted him on the shoulder—a gesture of support, without words. He knew all too well what it meant to lose someone close.

Approaching the front door, Alex signaled to Noble with a glance to step aside. Noble nodded and melted into the darkness near the porch.

Alex pressed the doorbell.

A light immediately came on upstairs, footsteps followed—and a minute later the door opened. Lou-Ann Walker stood in the doorway. Traces of tears were still visible on her face, her gaze empty, scorched by loss. Behind her stood Lucas, wearing the same crushed expression, though his tense posture made it clear he was holding himself together with all his strength for his mother’s sake.

Both of them stared at Alex, who looked as though he had just crawled out of the dirt. In the middle of the night, in that condition—his appearance was, to say the least, strange.

“Agent…?” Lou-Ann asked softly. “What brings you here so late… and in this state?”

“First of all, my apologies for the disturbance, Mrs. Walker,” Alex replied calmly. “Tell me, please—is there anyone else in the house right now besides you and your son?”

“No…” Lou-Ann instinctively clutched the edges of her robe. “Just us. Why do you ask?”

“Then there’s something you should see,” Alex said gently.

Noticing her anxiety, he offered a reassuring smile and stepped aside, nodding toward the darkness.

Lou-Ann frowned and cautiously stepped outside. After taking only a couple of steps, she froze, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Lucas followed—and immediately stopped as well, unable to believe his eyes. A little farther off, at the edge of the light, stood his father.

Lou‑Ann’s eyes filled with tears. She broke into a run and threw herself at her husband, sobbing and clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear again.

Lucas still stood there, frozen, until he finally turned to Alex and Dean. They were standing a little off to the side, dirt‑stained and silent.

Alex caught the boy’s stunned look, gave a faint smile, and gently nudged him in the back.

“Go,” he said softly.

Lucas took a step forward—and a moment later was in his parents’ arms.

Watching the touching reunion, Alex and Dean turned away at the same time and let out heavy breaths. Alex glanced at Dean and understood without words what he was feeling.

Dean had lost too much. And Alex knew—the time to bring the Winchester family back together had not yet come. Right now, it would bring more pain than joy.

After finishing his cigarette, Alex escorted the Walker family back into the house. In the living room, he seated them on the couch and spoke calmly:

“First, I want to clarify one thing. Noble Walker is still officially dead. So—not a word about what happened tonight. At least until things settle down.”

“But why?” Lou‑Ann asked in a trembling voice, gripping her husband’s hand tightly.

Dean crossed his arms and answered instead of Alex:

“Ma’am, there was an attempt on your husband’s life. It’s already a miracle he survived. If anyone finds out right now, you and your son will be in danger. Until we find who’s responsible, this has to stay quiet.”

Noble nodded and squeezed his wife’s hand.

“It won’t be for long, Lou‑Ann,” he said gently. “I’ll just be staying at home for a while.”

He turned to his son.

“Lucas, could you go to my study, please? There’s a folder on the desk. I think it might be useful for the agents.”

Lucas nodded and rose from the couch. Without a word, he headed upstairs—to his father’s study.

Meanwhile, Alex calmly and methodically explained how they should act and behave until the situation normalized. Throughout it all, Lou‑Ann never took her eyes off her husband. Noble nodded from time to time, confirming that Alex was right and that his words were worth listening to.

Lou‑Ann tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. One thing was enough for her—he was alive. In the first moments, she had even thought it was all a dream. But the warmth of his palm, his familiar smile, his usual look—all of it slowly but surely chased her fears away.

From Alex’s words, she understood the most important thing: Noble had staged his own death to protect her and their son. And that was enough for her anxiety to ease.

A few minutes later, Lucas returned, holding a folder.

“Here you go, Agent,” he said, offering it to Alex.

“Lucas, you’re in touch with Bianca Barclay, aren’t you?” Alex asked with a faint smile, not taking the folder.

“How do you know that…?” Lucas stared at him in surprise.

“Occupational hazard,” Alex replied calmly. “I need you to go to Nevermore and pass this folder to Wednesday. Through Bianca.”

He paused briefly, letting the words sink in.

“Don’t do it tomorrow. No need to draw attention. It’s important that this folder is seen. Don’t ask why—just do it. Say you found it on your father’s desk.”

“With this folder, you’re trying to identify the culprit?” Noble asked, watching Alex closely.

“Exactly,” Alex nodded. “Either he’ll try to steal it, or he’ll start acting more cautiously. Either way, we buy time. And right now, time is the most valuable thing we have.”

Alex calmly laced his fingers together, maintaining an unreadable expression.

“Agent…” Lucas began carefully. “Aren’t you close to Wednesday Addams?”

“We are,” Alex answered honestly. “I’ll explain everything to her tomorrow. You don’t really think I’d put anyone in danger, do you? That’s not my style.”

He smiled slightly.

“Besides, Wednesday can handle herself just fine without me. All I need is a rumor. A hint that your father found something. The key is to play the cards right.”

Lucas wanted to ask another question, but Noble placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded, signaling that he should follow Alex’s instructions.

Noble had experience as a sheriff. He understood how difficult it was to draw out someone who had been in hiding for twenty-five years, constantly changing identities and covering their tracks. Laurel Gates was exactly that. Insane. Insane enough to kill anyone who got too close.

Noble knew perfectly well that the explosion in the cave had nothing to do with natural gas. And before that, Alex and Dean had nearly died. There were no coincidences here. Lucas silently nodded and sat back down on the couch next to his parents.

After talking a little longer, Alex and Dean said their goodbyes and headed for the exit. The Impala was waiting by the house. Once they got in, Dean started the engine, and the car slowly rolled forward.

“Don’t you think your girlfriend will be upset when she finds out you’re using her?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I’ll explain everything to her,” Alex replied calmly. “And I can protect her if needed. Once we figure out which identity Laurel Gates is hiding under, everything will get easier.”

He thoughtfully stroked his chin.

“All that’s left is for you to poke your blade into Amara’s power that she’s using. And that’s it.”

“Whatever you say, Sherlock,” Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Any suspects yet?”

“For now, just guesses,” Alex shook his head. “And guesses alone won’t get you far.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Dean couldn’t take it anymore, “just use the Death power and end this.”

“It’s not that simple, Dean,” Alex sighed. “It’s one thing or the other. If I start acting like Death, my hands will be tied.”

He turned to Dean.

“The previous Death covered for you, turned a blind eye to your and Sam’s premature deaths. Because it had to be done. And if I follow that path, I’ll have to do the same.”

Alex smirked.

“Only problem is, for some reason, they didn’t include the manual for the ring. Or do you think I suddenly became Death in a single day and now know everything?”

“That’s what you should have started with,” Dean snorted. “All that eternal balance and natural order nonsense of yours is exhausting. You should’ve just said you can’t do anything. Ugh.”

Alex gave Dean a blank stare and, for a moment, seriously considered hitting him on the head with a stick. Shaking his head, he turned to the window, deliberately ignoring Dean’s last words. Tapping his finger on his knee, Alex lost himself in thoughts about what to do next.

Back at the hotel, they took showers without fuss, changed into clean clothes, and almost immediately fell asleep. By that time, it was already approaching morning, and Dean desperately needed rest.

Alex woke the next day to the sound of a door opening. Half-opening his eyes, he saw Dean entering the room with a paper bag containing food and cups of coffee. Rubbing his eyes, Alex glanced at the clock—it was about two in the afternoon.

He stretched lazily and headed to the bathroom to wash up and get himself together. Returning, Alex sat at the table—both to have breakfast and to work.

He still didn’t fully understand how or for what merits he had been promoted, but the fact remained: he now had to play the role of team leader. Alex reviewed reports, added notes, and forwarded them, almost without thinking.

Dean, sipping his coffee, watched Alex who was frozen in thought: a sandwich in one hand, the other moving across the trackpad, staring at the laptop screen without blinking.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“Nothing so far,” Alex replied, closing the laptop. “And that, fortunately, is a good sign. Usually, if nothing strange happens for a couple of days, it means the world is still holding together.”

“Well, the world hasn’t burned down yet,” Dean nodded. “Already an achievement.”

“Don’t even say it,” Alex snorted. “Although the main source of disasters is sitting right in front of me. You and Sam are scarier than any monster.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Dean snorted. “I’ve said it a hundred times: it’s all coincidences, fate, and other crap. We’ve cleaned it all up, by the way. And nobody even said thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex smirked. “People scare kids with monsters under the bed, and monsters scare their kids with Dean and Sam Winchester hiding under their beds.”

Dean just grinned and finished his coffee. Alex, having finished eating, started thinking about what he had to do today. And then a thought he had been putting off for too long surfaced in his mind: it was time to tell Wednesday and Enid the whole truth. And he already had a plan.

Alex took out his phone and texted Enid, inviting her for an evening walk. The reply came almost instantly—full agreement and genuine excitement. He didn’t mention Wednesday at all. And he certainly didn’t indicate that the conversation would be serious. Alex knew perfectly well: for Enid, it would be a shock. For Wednesday—not any less.

He mentally ran through the possible outcomes: in one, Wednesday stabs him in the chest; in another, Enid sinks her teeth into his throat; in a third… everything goes relatively calmly. The last option seemed the least likely. Alex closed his eyes and focused—finding Wednesday took just a few seconds.

“All right, I’ve got things to do,” he said, standing and grabbing his coat.

“Where are you off to?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“It’s time to talk to Wednesday and Enid,” Alex replied, putting on his black coat. “Hope I don’t get killed.”

“Well, technically you’re Death now,” Dean smirked. “So, I guess you can’t really be killed.”

He chuckled.

“Although I’d love to see you announce that you have three more fiancées and then get stabbed. But fine. I’ll pray for you, Alex.”

“Said the guy who went on a date with God’s own sister,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Found a good comparison,” Dean snorted. “I went on one date with one woman.”

He shook his head.

“And you’re going to be running around with five girls. So if anyone’s getting a knife in the chest—it’s you, not me.”

Being basically a child in an adult’s body, Alex simply flipped Dean off. Without hesitation, Dean returned the gesture, his entire demeanor making it clear he was right in this situation. Understanding that arguing was pointless, Alex turned and approached the door.

And as he was leaving the hotel room, he sharply turned back, flipped Dean off one more time—and then bolted down the hallway, leaving him standing there with a stunned expression.

Leaving the hotel and quietly chuckling, Alex headed toward the Flueger Café. Lighting a cigarette, he crossed the street, casually glancing around. When he reached the café, Alex peeked inside and saw Wednesday sitting across from Uncle Fester. The man was calmly squeezing ketchup and mustard straight from the tubes into his mouth.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Alex stubbed out his cigarette and stepped inside. Uncle Fester immediately noticed him and waved joyfully, his face spreading into a contented smile. Wednesday turned her head and saw Alex as well. She was clearly curious about how yesterday’s story with Mayor Walker had ended—who, as it turned out, was alive.

First, Alex went to the counter and ordered coffee—for himself, Wednesday, and Uncle Fester. Once he had the drinks, he approached their table, and his eyes immediately fell on Nathaniel Faulkner’s journal in Wednesday’s hands. Sitting down across from them, Alex placed the coffee in front of Wednesday and Fester.

Wednesday, in the meantime, stared at him with her cold, piercing gaze—one that clearly said he had forgotten something. Alex tilted his head slightly, unsure of what she wanted from him. Shrugging, he leaned forward and kissed Wednesday on the lips.

After the kiss, Wednesday nodded, as if confirming that this was exactly what was missing. At that moment, a sharp cracking sound rang out. Alex turned his head and saw Tyler hastily picking up the shards of a broken cup from the floor. Alex just smirked slightly. He had noticed Tyler more than once, always hovering somewhere near Wednesday. But he had never considered him a serious threat.

“Mind if I take a look at Faulkner’s journal?” Alex asked, nodding toward the journal in Wednesday’s hands.

Wednesday silently nodded and slid the journal closer to him.

Alex pulled out his phone and began scanning page by page, adding them to his archive. Besides studying the Hydes, Faulkner had also researched other creatures, and this information could prove useful.

After a moment, Alex opened Wednesday’s backpack and began making edits directly in the journal.

Although Faulkner’s journal was old, there were inaccuracies in some places—especially in entries regarding the Hydes. Many things he simply hadn’t had the time or courage to document.

Wednesday squinted slightly, observing Alex’s actions. She noticed that he was supplementing the journal with new entries, and it piqued her genuine interest. She began reading what he had written. One entry particularly caught her attention—about how, in the final stage, a Hyde completely loses its human form and is capable of killing the person who awakened and controlled it.

“Did you manage to figure anything out with the journal?” Alex asked, continuing to make notes.

“I think it’s Kinbott. Xavier’s owner,” Wednesday replied, pointing to a line in Faulkner’s journal. “It says here that one of the most reliable ways to awaken a Hyde is through hypnosis. And that’s exactly what she practices.”

“Xavier? Are you sure?” Alex leaned in closer. “Or, my dear Wednesday, are you keeping something from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you, I just didn’t finish saying it. Just like you,” she said calmly, looking him straight in the eyes. “You yourself said that a person won’t remember that they’re a monster. But they will have dreams where they see it. And Xavier’s private studio is filled with pictures of Hydes.”

Alex and Wednesday stared into each other’s eyes from a very short distance.

In the background, a strange sound suddenly rang out—as if someone were squeezing something out of a tube again.

They both turned their heads at the same time and saw Uncle Fester calmly squirting another portion of ketchup into his mouth.

“Go on, don’t mind me,” he said with a light chuckle. “I’ve seen plenty of this kind of behavior from Gomez and Morticia. I’m used to it. And the fact that my niece is doing the same thing even warms my cold heart.”

“All right, my dear Wednesday,” Alex turned back to her and smiled. “Do you want the truth? I’ll tell it to you. Tonight. How does that sound?”

“The whole truth?” Wednesday уточнила, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah. All of it,” Alex confirmed. “You wanted to know all my secrets. Well, I’ll open that box of mysteries for you.”

He placed his palm against her cheek and slowly traced his fingers along her skin.

Wednesday looked straight into Alex’s eyes and narrowed hers slightly.

She could see that he really was ready to tell her everything, and now she wasn’t thinking about the confession itself, but about the reason why he had decided to do it.

Meanwhile, Uncle Fester watched what was happening with genuine interest—as if he were watching a particularly captivating TV show.

Alex already knew exactly where he would take Wednesday and Enid for the conversation. One place had long been on his mind.

Though he had no doubt that someone would try to kill him there again.

After all, he was planning to bring Wednesday and Enid to a special museum—a place where his entire collection of cursed and truly dark artifacts was kept.

“And what’s with this sudden generosity?” Wednesday asked, not taking her eyes off him.

“You’re the one who says I’m your fiancé,” Alex replied calmly. “So why not make it true?”

He gently stroked her cheek.

“My payment will be all my secrets. What do you think—fair deal?”

“Only if those secrets are truly worth that price,” Wednesday said coldly, running her palm along his cheek. “You know how this will end if you lie to me.”

“Believe me, my dark bride,” Alex said with a faint smile. “Even you will be shocked by them.”

He leaned a little closer.

“But not here. This evening, I’ll take you to a special place. That’s where we’ll talk.”

Wednesday removed her hand from his cheek and gave a short nod, signaling her agreement.

Seeing that he had managed to convince her, Alex allowed himself a smile, then his gaze slid toward Tyler. Alex had two goals. The first was to tell Enid and Wednesday the truth about himself. The second was to lure both girls out of their dorm room.

He was well aware that because of his interference, no serious conflict had ever formed between Enid and Wednesday. There had only been minor everyday quarrels—like Wednesday’s typewriter being too loud, or Enid grinding her teeth in her sleep.

But even those little things faded quickly. That was exactly why Alex decided to act differently. He wanted the girls to leave the room, so that Marilyn could wreck the place and steal the journal.

All of this was part of the final stage of his plan—a grand finale involving the resurrection of Joseph Cracklestone… and the subsequent beating of Joseph himself. Alex wanted Marilyn—aka Laurel Gates—to survive. She needed to be interrogated to determine whether she was connected to the British branch of the Men of Letters.

Alex continued sitting in the café with Wednesday and Uncle Fester until Sheriff Donovan walked in, holding flyers with the image of a wanted criminal.

Taking one of the flyers, Alex couldn’t help but smile—Uncle Fester had been declared wanted for bank robbery.

After sitting a little longer, Alex promised he would stop by the dormitory that evening and warned Wednesday to be ready. She nodded, still lost in thought about what exactly he was going to reveal. The more Alex shared with her, the clearer it became to Wednesday that this was only a small fraction of his secrets.

Leaving the café, Alex didn’t head straight back to the hotel. He had a conversation ahead with his grim ghostly wife—the one whose jealousy was sometimes so intense that it almost always ended in an attempt on his life.

Turning into a narrow alley, Alex saw a red door in front of him. He opened it and stepped inside. Entering the Red City, he immediately heard cries of pain, despair, and pleas—but he paid them no mind.

Stepping further, he found himself on the roof of an ordinary building. There, dangling her legs over the edge, sat Zhang Ya, watching the city. Alex sat down beside her and also dangled his legs, observing a strange wooden monster chasing yet another unlucky person down the street—a distorted, mannequin-like figure holding a knife.

Zhang Ya leaned her shoulder against Alex and slowly swung her legs, never taking her eyes off the scene below. Alex knew she was aware of his plans.

Even so, he felt obligated to spend time with her, so she wouldn’t feel abandoned—even though she was by his side twenty-four hours a day, acting as his shadow.

“My love…” Alex whispered, wrapping his arms around Zhang Ya’s waist. “If you feel lonely here, maybe we should find you some company?”

He gave a slight smirk.

“Our little gremlins are always causing chaos and rarely come to visit you. And I know how much you love them. So I thought…”

Zhang Ya slowly turned her head toward Alex and tilted it slightly, trying to understand what he was hinting at.

Seeing the confusion on his wife’s face, Alex decided to share his thoughts with her—about saving two children who had faced a fate no less cruel than her own.

He began with the story of Alesse Gillespie. Alex recounted everything from the very beginning, leaving out no detail: what Alesse had endured and how it had all ended. Zhang Ya listened silently, not uttering a word.

However, with each passing moment, her gaze grew colder. And though she never showed emotions on her face, her anger reflected across the entire Red City. The sky above it cracked like shattered glass, and the wails of ghosts and creatures grew louder, fiercer, and more piercing.

Feeling Zhang Ya’s rage wash over her, Alex embraced her, understanding exactly what she was feeling. The same fury burned within him—rage over the fate that had been dealt to Alesse. When he finished his story, Zhang Ya looked at him and slowly nodded, signaling that she did not object to his plan.

Seeing this gesture, Alex immediately realized: the residents of Silent Hill who had managed to survive until now were in for a truly horrifying fate when they arrived in the Red City.

After sitting a little longer beside his ghostly wife, Alex decided to leave the Red City.

He kissed Zhang Ya on the lips, stepped back—and behind him appeared the red door. Alex walked through it. He found himself in the forest near Nevermore.

Lighting a cigarette, Alex exhaled smoke and reflected on his next steps: after Jericho, Silent Hill—and other nearby towns directly connected to it—would be his next destination.

But first, he had to deal with the visions that Sam was receiving from the fake Lucifer.

Leaving the forest, Alex headed toward the dormitory. He already knew that Tyler had told Marilyn that Wednesday would not be in the room today, and that stealing Folgner’s diary would be easy.

Reaching the dormitory, Alex stubbed out his cigarette and calmly walked inside. Ascending to the top floor, where Enid and Wednesday’s room was located, he knocked lightly on the door.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, and Enid appeared in full attire—her usual bright outfit, a wide smile on her face. She immediately grabbed Alex’s hand and practically pulled him into the room.

Wednesday sat at the table, rereading Folgner’s diary. Seeing Alex, she closed it and turned, measuring him with a cold gaze. The reason was obvious—he had invited Enid.

“For starters, I need to brief you,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Think of it as a short instruction.”

“And where exactly are you taking us? A romantic dinner?” Enid asked, tugging at his hand.

“As I told Wednesday earlier today, it’s time to tell the truth about me,” Alex replied calmly. “I warn you right away: this is a one-way road. In other words—there’s an entrance, but no exit.”

Enid tilted her head in confusion and nodded hesitantly, not fully understanding why he spoke this way.

Wednesday frowned slightly at his words but nodded as well. Seeing that both girls had agreed, Alex took a deep breath. His shadow began to lengthen—and this did not escape the attention of Enid and Wednesday.

Enid stepped back, astonished. Wednesday, however, watched with interest as Alex’s shadow began to change. In the next moment, the Red Door rose from it, blood slowly dripping from its surface.

“This… what is that?” Enid asked, horror in her eyes, pointing at the door.

“As obvious as it may seem—it’s the red door,” Alex replied. “Where it leads, however, is another question.”

He stepped closer.

“The place I’m taking you will allow us to talk without extra ears. As I said, it’s far too complicated to discuss here.”

Alex placed his hand on the door handle.

“If neither of you has changed your mind—follow me.”

Without saying a word, Wednesday rose from her seat and walked over to Alex. Enid, however, looked noticeably hesitant, anxiously staring at the red door, which she found terrifying. She turned to Wednesday, who was already standing next to Alex, and noticed her moving her lips.

Enid easily made out the word. Wednesday had called her a coward—once again. That was enough. Enid clenched her fists and stepped forward with determination, suppressing the tremor in her knees. Seeing this, Alex calmly opened the red door and stepped through first.

Wednesday followed him without a single question, leaving Enid alone for a moment. Gathering the last of her courage, Enid closed her eyes and stepped after them. On the other side, she slowly opened her eyes and realized with surprise that she was in a space resembling a vast museum hall.

The high ceilings disappeared into darkness, display cases and pedestals lined the walls, and the air was heavy with a suffocating, oppressive atmosphere. Wednesday was already scanning the surroundings with clear interest, fully sensing the gloomy aura of the place—and judging by her expression, she liked it.

“What is this place? A museum?” Enid asked, glancing around.

“Well… technically, yes,” Alex replied, lighting a cigarette. “But in reality, this is my personal collection of cursed objects.”

He paused.

“Books, boxes, records, diaries. Stories of people whose lives should never have ended the way they did. The collection… is quite extensive.”

“And where exactly is this museum?” Wednesday asked, shifting her gaze to Alex. “We went through a door, after all.”

“And now, a brief introductory briefing,” Alex said. “The place we’re in is called the Red City.”

He raised a finger.

“First: Enid, you should not peek out the windows or try to figure out what’s happening outside the building. For now—don’t.”

Second finger.

“Second: if you hear screams, cries, or anything like that—just ignore it.”

Third.

“And third: do not touch anything here. These things aren’t called cursed for nothing. My collection… is dangerous.”

“Then why did you bring us to this creepy place?” Enid asked, her voice trembling, tears welling in her eyes. “Couldn’t we have had a simple candlelit dinner? A bit of romance… instead of being led into a museum of cursed objects?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Alex said gently. “When the tour begins. Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

He leaned down and lightly pinched Enid’s cheek.

“You want to know what I’m going to tell you too, don’t you?”

Enid looked at him with tearful eyes and nodded softly, quietly sobbing, signaling that she would try not to be afraid. Wednesday, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in observing the hall, clearly intrigued by the secrets this collection might hold.

Noticing her interest, Alex beckoned Wednesday over. She raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. Alex raised his arms so that both girls could take him under the elbows.

Wednesday calmly wrapped her arm around him. Enid, however, embraced Alex tightly, gripping him while warily looking around, as if expecting a ghost or monster to emerge from the darkness at any moment.

Smiling quietly, Alex took the first step forward. And so began their strange date—a tour through the museum of cursed objects, which would end with a revelation capable of changing Enid’s and Wednesday’s lives forever.

To be continued…

(Overall, I think it’s time to wrap up the Wednesday arc and move on. I’ll certainly try to finish it quickly so we can move on. And I think we should have a vote on which town comes next after the minor events in the main story. I think we should let you choose whether Silent Hill or Derry comes first.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep