Alex began the tour for Enid and Wednesday through his gloomy museum — a place where he kept all kinds of cursed objects: diaries, notes, tapes, and evidence of other people’s broken lives.

The girls walked beside him, holding on to him. Wednesday calmly held Alex by the arm, slowly looking around. Her face remained cold and detached, but interest could be seen in every movement. She liked the atmosphere of the museum — dense, unsettling, soaked in other people’s secrets.

Enid, on the other hand, clung to Alex as if he were her only anchor in this place. She constantly looked around, expecting a monster to jump out from the nearest corner or a ghost to appear at any moment.

The first hall Alex brought the girls to was the most harmless in the entire museum. It housed diaries, scraps of short notes stained with blood, disturbing drawings, and other similar remnants.

As soon as they entered, Alex began to explain the purpose of the hall.

“Everything here is safe,” he said. “These items no longer carry an active curse. You can touch them, read them, flip through them — no one will die or go insane.”

Hearing this, Wednesday released Alex’s arm and walked over to the display cases. She opened diaries, skimmed through the entries, carefully studying the handwriting and drawings.

Enid, on the contrary, did not move away from Alex, gripping his hand so tightly that if he were an ordinary human, his bones would have cracked long ago.

Alex gently stroked Enid’s hair, calming her, and began to explain why he collected these diaries — who they belonged to, where they were found, and how the stories of their owners ended.

Wednesday listened attentively, showing no emotion, flipping through one diary after another.

“And why these tapes?” Enid asked cautiously, still not stepping away from Alex and pointing at a shelf with old videotapes. “Does anyone even use this junk anymore? Even your phone looks more modern.”

“I just like classics,” Alex smirked and lightly pinched Enid’s nose. “Like in old horror movies. What looks more authentic — a computer or tapes? Tapes are style.”

“I agree,” Wednesday nodded, pulling one of the tapes out. “Classics never age. And what’s recorded on them?”

“Security camera footage. Doctors talking to patients. Moments when people disappear,” Alex replied calmly. “The one you’re holding is a recording from a cursed apartment complex. A young guy entered the elevator… and when it reached the right floor, it was empty.”

“You mean he just disappeared?” Enid asked with genuine shock. “Where?”

“If the whole building is cursed, then the ghosts took him,” Wednesday said, returning the tape to its place and looking at Alex.

“Almost,” Alex said. “Have you ever heard the scary story about the elevator game?”

“Is that the one where you have to press the buttons in a certain order, and then you can see a ghost?” Enid asked.

“You know about it?” Alex said in surprise.

“Yeah. We study at Nevermore. We love scary stories there,” Enid shrugged. “It’s just that no one said they were real.”

“Better tell us about this building,” Wednesday said, opening another diary.

Alex nodded and began telling the story of the cursed Fan Hua building he had once visited — about the people who vanished inside, the origins of the curse, and those who decided to turn the place into a stage for their own nightmares.

When the topic turned to the Society of Scary Stories, Wednesday showed particular interest — especially after learning that its members were escaped patients from a psychiatric hospital. Alex pointed to folders with their files, allowing Wednesday to study them on her own.

Enid listened too, but clearly had no desire to read medical reports and diaries of people who ultimately turned out to be maniacs obsessed with telling horror stories in a cursed house.

Wednesday quickly skimmed through the last folder and closed it.

“What happened to the hospital?” she asked. “And to them?”

Alex calmly began to explain, not hiding the gruesome details. At that moment, a scream echoed from outside. Then another one. Someone started pounding on the museum doors. Enid flinched and clutched Alex’s arm even tighter. Wednesday, on the other hand, listened to the scream almost with pleasure — the pain and despair in it sounded like music to her.

Alex paid no attention and continued speaking as if nothing were happening. One last scream followed, especially piercing, then a dull thud — and the sound of someone being dragged away.

“What… what was that?” Enid asked quietly.

“I told you — don’t pay attention,” Alex shrugged lazily. “That’s a normal thing here. Someone was just too slow.”

“You still haven’t said where we are,” Enid said in a trembling voice.

“I did,” Alex replied gently, running a hand through her hair. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

“The Red City…” Wednesday repeated thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes. “What kind of place is that?”

“The Red City is a mirror of the real world,” Alex said calmly. “But distorted. Filled with fog, nightmares, and primal terror.”

He paused.

“It is formed from human fears, the desire to survive, desperate memories, and emotions people would rather forget.”

Alex looked at the girls.

“And yes… I use this place as my personal hell. It houses not only my collection of cursed objects, but also creatures that can freeze your blood with a single glance.”

Enid stared at Alex in shock, not fully understanding what he meant by calling this place his personal hell.

Wednesday, on the contrary, grew even more interested. The thought that someone had been unlucky enough to end up here forever intrigued her. She looked at Alex again, clearly expecting him to continue.

Enid, meanwhile, made it very clear with her entire demeanor that she didn’t want to hear anything else — the scream she had heard moments ago was more than enough for her.

Alex only smiled mysteriously and led the girls into another hall.

Enid exhaled in relief, glad that Alex hadn’t continued the topic. But as they passed by the windows, she still couldn’t resist and stole a quick glance outside.

Beyond the glass stretched a crimson city. Red buildings, as if pulsing veins ran through them. A blood-red sky. High above it — a massive scarlet moon and a black sun, as though devouring the light.

Wednesday also looked out the window, but far more attentively. Her gaze caught on a female silhouette sitting on the edge of a rooftop.

Looking closer, Wednesday realized it was a girl in a red dress, with long black hair.

And she was looking straight at her.

Wednesday felt that gaze with her whole body — cold, studying, as if it were slipping under her skin. She only looked away when Alex placed a hand on her shoulder.

Wednesday looked at him… and then back at the window.

The silhouette was gone.

Alex, as if understanding exactly what she had seen, led the girls onward and soon brought them into a hall filled with grim paintings and drawings. In some places, entire chunks of the walls had been torn out, covered in dozens of words and phrases.

“Isn’t there a nicer hall in this place?” Enid asked nervously, looking around. “These paintings give me goosebumps… Why do you need a whole piece of wall covered in writing?.. And whose creepy portrait is that?.. And what even is this? Children’s drawings?”

She pointed at everything in sight, not hiding her discomfort.

“That’s my portrait,” Alex replied dryly, looking at her. “Didn’t you see that face in the painting one of my family members sent for Wednesday’s birthday?”

“In what way is that your face?!” Enid protested. “You have an incredibly handsome face! And this? Sharp teeth, dark skin, horns… The only thing that looks the same is the eyes.”

“I could show you,” Alex said calmly, “but you’d be scared.”

“What do you mean?..” Enid asked cautiously, looking at him.

Wednesday, who had been studying the paintings, immediately turned her head in their direction. Alex shrugged and beckoned Enid over. She tilted her head to the side and stepped closer. As soon as she was near, Alex touched her forehead with his finger.

Enid didn’t immediately understand what had happened, but suddenly she felt an unusual calm — warm and deep, as if she had been wrapped in a soft blanket. Alex looked at Wednesday and motioned for her as well.

She narrowed her eyes, but still stepped closer. Alex touched her forehead with his finger too. Wednesday frowned even more, trying to understand what he was planning. It was a mind-calming spell. A simple precaution.

Alex covered his face with his hand and slowly dragged it downward. When he removed his hand, his familiar face was gone. It was covered in dense darkness, from which only gleaming irises and an unnaturally wide smile filled with sharp teeth were visible.

A moment later, Alex ran his hand over his face again — and everything returned to normal, as if nothing had happened at all.

“What was that just now?” Wednesday asked, slightly raising an eyebrow. “And what did you do?”

“Showed my face,” Alex shrugged. “Remember when I said I wear masks? Well, I took them off.”

He looked at Enid.

“You weren’t scared?”

“For some reason… no,” she replied thoughtfully. “It felt normal. What did you do?”

“A mind-calming spell. So you wouldn’t panic. It always works,” Alex smiled.

“Very convenient magic,” Enid chuckled nervously. “Because I definitely would’ve run away if I’d seen that face. And… how long will it last? I’m not scared right now, but… rather…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I just don’t really care.”

“Until the end of our tour,” Alex answered. “I’ll tell you everything. Or rather — show you.”

“Including who you really are?” Wednesday asked calmly, noting how much colder and more rational her thoughts had become.

“Yeah, my dear Wednesday,” Alex smirked. “But for an appetizer…”

He snapped his fingers.

“I can show you one of my personalities. Ta-da…”

A scythe of Death appeared in the air.

After Alex’s words, a long black scythe materialized in his hands, with a massive blade carved with skulls. Wednesday raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to examine the weapon more carefully. Enid, still under the effect of the mind-calming spell, also stepped closer and began studying the scythe with curiosity.

Alex watched them with a faint smile, not interfering and allowing them to examine the artifact. He was curious how long it would take them to realize what exactly he was holding. Wednesday frowned slightly and looked at him.

“Is that the scythe I think it is?” she asked, cautiously touching the blade with her finger.

“Yeah. That’s the one,” Alex replied, immediately dismissing the scythe and letting it dissolve into the air.

Enid blinked and tilted her head to the side.

“I don’t understand something… How did that creepy scythe even appear in your hands? And what did you mean when you said this was one of your personalities?”

“That’s the scythe of Death,” Wednesday said calmly, crossing her arms. “If you put everything together, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

“I… I kissed Death?!” Enid grabbed her head in horror. “I’m not going to die, am I? Or am I already dead?! What am I supposed to do now?!”

Wednesday looked at her and sighed heavily, shaking her head.

Alex, meanwhile, watched with mild amusement as Enid panicked despite the spell. She began muttering to herself and nervously pacing back and forth.

Wednesday massaged the bridge of her nose and glanced at Alex. He silently showed her the ring on his finger. One look was enough. Wednesday quickly understood that this very ring was the reason he had become what he was.

Noticing this, Alex leaned in slightly and quickly kissed her on the lips. Wednesday rolled her eyes, but for some reason, the thought that her first boyfriend had been Death itself sounded exactly the way she liked it.

“Wait, stop,” Enid suddenly halted and looked at Alex. “I kissed Death… but I didn’t die. Or did I?”

“No, you didn’t die,” Alex replied calmly. “To put it briefly, I became Death just a couple of days ago. And it’s all because of this ring.”

He showed Enid the ring on his index finger.

“Phew…” she exhaled with relief and placed her hand on her chest. “Uh… what happens next?”

“Nothing,” Alex shrugged. “Or did you expect a line like, ‘I came for you, Enid’? Well… technically, I did come for you… but for a different reason.”

He smirked.

Enid pouted and lightly slapped his hand.

“I’m more curious about something else,” Wednesday interjected, crossing her arms. “What happened to the previous Death? You can’t just put on a ring and become Death.”

“Well… the previous Death died,” Alex replied with a stone-cold expression. “Irony at its finest. Death died. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

He spoke in a flat, almost robotic tone.

“Wait, what do you mean Death died?!” Enid’s eyes went wide. “Is that even possible?!”

“Ask Dean,” Alex said irritably. “He killed her, not me. I was forcibly made Death. They just shoved the ring on me, said, ‘You’ll understand everything,’ and disappeared.”

He looked at the ring with obvious displeasure.

“And I still don’t understand anything. And, by the way, I can’t take it off. I already have enough work as it is.”

Alex began complaining about everything at once, as if someone had flipped an invisible switch.

Enid and Wednesday had never seen this side of Alex before and, to put it mildly, were surprised by his state.

The women of Alex’s family simply sighed wearily as they listened to yet another tirade from their husband about how much he hated working… yet still worked.

They knew perfectly well: if Alex started complaining, it was going to last a while. So they calmly returned to their tasks, setting aside the devices they had been using to watch the broadcast. It wasn’t the first time they had heard this.

Meanwhile, Alex continued leading Wednesday and Enid down the corridor, not stopping his grumbling for a single second.

Enid tried to comfort him, even without fully understanding the sheer amount of work he carried on his shoulders, though some of the responsibilities were shared by his wives, helping to support him.

Wednesday, on the other hand, calmly endured the stream of complaints, simply listening and drawing mental conclusions. Soon, Alex stopped in front of massive doors.

“Here we are, in the final hall,” he said as he stepped inside. “This is where the truly dangerous things are kept. Despite their seemingly harmless appearance. In other words, this is my collection of atomic bombs.”

Enid shuddered and immediately pointed to the object in the center of the hall.

“Oh my… what is that creepy book… with a face?”

“It has two names,” Alex replied calmly. “Necronomicon Ex-Mortis. It’s also called Naturom Demonto. The book is, in a sense, alive. Essentially, it serves as a doorway for evil entities from another dimension.”

He paused briefly.

“There is only one copy. But it is connected to its versions in other dimensions.”

“Terrifying…” Enid grimaced. “I won’t even ask why you’re keeping it instead of destroying it. Can it even be destroyed? You’re… Death. You should be able to do that.”

“You said ‘other copies in other dimensions,'” Wednesday interjected, looking at him intently.

“That’s exactly what it means,” Alex nodded. “The multiverse theory is real. Time, parallel worlds—they all exist. Most mortal theories aren’t fantasies, just fragments of truth that people laugh at.”

He thoughtfully ran a hand along his chin.

“For example, writers like Lovecraft. You’ve read him, haven’t you?”

“What does a writer have to do with this?” Enid asked, confused.

“If I start explaining it in words, it’ll take too long,” Alex sighed. “So I’ll ask again. Are you sure you want to know everything? As I said, it’s a one-way path.”

“Get to the point,” Wednesday said coldly. “We already agreed. I’m yours, you’re mine. Stop asking questions.”

Alex smiled calmly and looked at Enid. Wednesday also turned her gaze to her, waiting for an answer.

Enid hesitated. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth… but looking at Alex, remembering how he had supported her and everything he had done for her, she realized she didn’t want to turn away from that feeling. She slowly nodded.

Seeing this, Alex smiled broadly—but immediately grew serious, realizing how this could end. He quietly cleared his throat, composing himself.

“My love,” he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Please, open the doors to the square where we met Sheriff Breaker.”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her gaze growing colder. She was a step away from drawing her knife. Even Enid frowned slightly. A moment later, one of the doors turned blood-red. Without a word, Alex led the girls forward.

Wednesday walked tensely, recalling the girl in the red dress she had seen through the museum window. Alex opened the door. Beyond it stretched a long red corridor, extending into the distance. Red lamps illuminated an endless number of doors, too many to count.

Alex went in first. Wednesday and Enid followed, looking around with curiosity, trying to understand the purpose of all those doors. He walked calmly, ignoring the sounds coming from behind the closed panels. He stopped only at one door—a gray one.

When Alex opened it, they found themselves in a grim reflection of one of New York’s streets—Caldera Street. Wednesday and Enid stepped out after him. Wednesday immediately took in the atmosphere and even closed her eyes, savoring it.

Enid, on the other hand, saw only an empty street lit by streetlamps and neon signs of abandoned buildings. Abandoned cars stood along the road, as if they had walked into a frozen nightmare film.

Alex lit a cigarette and headed toward a fountain with a bench beside it.

“Here we can talk properly,” he said with a smile, sitting down and patting the space on either side of him. “I don’t want the screaming of various idiots to interfere with you processing the information.”

“What do you mean, ‘processing’?” Enid asked, sitting beside him.

“In the literal sense,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Instead of explaining, I’ll just transfer everything to you at once. If I try to explain it with words, it’ll take forever, and you’ll remember only half of it anyway.”

“And what exactly are you going to transfer?” Wednesday asked calmly, sitting down on his other side.

“Everything,” Alex replied with a faint smile. “About my family. About my work. About who I am. And even about what is really going on in this universe.”

And before Wednesday and Enid could fully realize what was happening, Alex had already touched their foreheads with his fingers. The next instant, a flood of information crashed down on them—too vast, too dense for the human mind. Both girls lost consciousness at the same time.

Enid and Wednesday slumped against Alex’s shoulders, and he calmly held them, not letting them fall. Alex waited patiently, knowing that once they woke up, there would be questions. A lot of questions.

From his shadow, Zhang Ya appeared silently. She looked at her husband with an empty, emotionless gaze, making it perfectly clear what she was thinking.

Alex only smirked and formed a heart shape with his fingers. Zhang Ya responded with her usual look—long and cold—then slowly began to retreat back into the shadow. She sank into it unhurriedly, never taking her eyes off Alex until she disappeared completely.

When the shadow became ordinary again, Alex lifted his gaze to the sky of gloomy Noir York. There were no stars, no light—only an all-encompassing, crushing darkness.

Some time passed. Wednesday was the first to wake up. She slowly turned her head toward Alex and studied him for a long, thoughtful moment.

“So what do you think, Wednesday?” Alex asked quietly, placing his palm against her cheek and gently stroking her skin. “Were my secrets worth the price you paid?”

“Right now I’m thinking about whether I should stab you with a knife,” Wednesday said calmly, looking straight into his eyes.

“You can try,” Alex smiled, pulling his hand away. “But it won’t work. I’m not that easy to kill. Zhang Ya tries often enough. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“I’ve already figured that out,” Wednesday replied evenly. “And that’s without even mentioning the other girls… Demon King.”

“Oh, for all that is holy! What even is this?!” Enid suddenly shouted.

Alex and Wednesday turned to her at the same time. Enid sat with wide eyes, staring at her hands. Her claws had elongated, her fingers sharpened, and her body had partially changed. She now had wolf ears, a tail, and sharp teeth.

“Calm down,” Alex said with a light chuckle. “This is normal.”

He briefly explained what had happened and exactly what he had done. Enid listened, still in slight shock, when another piece of news hit her: from now on, she would no longer fully transform into a werewolf—only partially, at any time.

Enid nodded slowly, her expression like someone who understood everything… yet whose mind was utterly blank.

“So, ladies,” Alex said with a smile, “any more questions? We can sit here, and I’ll answer anything you want to know.”

“Your father…” Enid began cautiously, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded.

“Your brothers…” Enid continued, still looking at him.

“They’re the ones,” he nodded again.

“I… became a mother?” Enid asked, doubt clear in her voice.

“You could say that,” Alex replied with the smile of a proud father. “I’m sure my little gremlins will like you. Yes, they’re a bit mischievous… but incredibly cute.”

He smirked.

“Umu—the cutest little princesses in the entire multiverse.”

Enid could only nod silently, sitting with her mouth slightly open, still in her half-wolf form. She had no idea how to even comment on everything she had just learned. Yes, the information about Alex’s daughters was now fully in her head—without gaps—but that didn’t lessen the shock at all.

Wednesday, however, was concerned with something entirely different. She was interested in Alex’s work—what he actually did, how this world functioned, and, of course, the scenario itself.

Being herself, Wednesday couldn’t help but appreciate Chuck’s carefully crafted game—especially how he positioned Dean and Sam as the main characters of the story. Folding her arms across her chest, she pondered how elegant the structure was… and how much more beautiful it became when Alex intervened.

Quietly, subtly, almost lazily, he dismantled the villain’s plans step by step, as if playing chess against an opponent who didn’t even suspect the game was already lost. The thought gave Wednesday an almost sadistic pleasure.

She turned her gaze to Alex. He, with a stone-cold expression, answered the stream of questions from Enid, who had fully shifted into her usual hyperactive mode.

“Oh, right. Almost forgot,” Alex said, pulling out two phones. One was pink, the other black. “These are for you.”

“I don’t use technology,” Wednesday said dryly, looking at the black phone in his hand.

“Everyone in my family does,” Alex said calmly, placing the phone in her palm. “They can’t be tracked. They work in any dimension. Trust me, they’re extremely useful. Even Zhang Ya uses them.”

“You mean…” Enid immediately grabbed the pink phone. “…it’s just like yours? That’s awesome!”

“You can order anything, anywhere with it,” Alex said with a smile. “Even torture instruments.”

He looked at Enid, then shifted his gaze to Wednesday.

“Then I guess I’ll keep it,” Wednesday said without emotion.

“Even clothes? Food? Meat? Everything?” Enid pressed the phone to her chest, as if Alex might change his mind and take it back.

“Everything,” Alex nodded. “If it’s registered in my guild.”

Enid beamed and, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck and kissed him on the lips. As a girl obsessed with shopping, she simply couldn’t pass up the chance to order anything at all, with delivery straight to her doorstep—and without any restrictions between worlds.

Wednesday, meanwhile, lowered her gaze to her phone. Following the memories now in her head, she opened the guild app… and, without hesitation, placed an order. A torture kit.

A moment later, a small portal opened beside her. A little yellow-and-black robot stepped out, holding a box.

Enid, still hugging Alex, noticed this and slowly turned her head.

“What’s in the box?” she asked cautiously, looking at Wednesday.

“A new torture kit,” Wednesday replied evenly, taking the box. “I’ve been meaning to update the old one.”

She opened the lid. Inside, the tools were neatly arranged with almost frightening pedantry. Enid wrinkled her nose, glanced at Wednesday, then at Alex, whose neck she was still holding onto.

Alex only chuckled quietly. He understood perfectly well that Wednesday was more than capable of taking over part of his duties—loosening tongues. Something he used to do himself. With her experience and temperament, she could make anyone talk.

Meanwhile, Wednesday was already transferring the tools into a new, tidy black bag, assessing the quality of the craftsmanship. The thought of testing them on someone seemed… quite tempting.

After sitting a while longer and talking, Alex suggested they head back.

Neither Wednesday nor Enid objected. They already knew everything they needed to know and understood perfectly why this conversation had to take place here—in a place where no one could overhear them.

Wednesday wanted to stay a little longer. This gloomy atmosphere felt surprisingly close to her. Here, she felt almost at home. But she knew that all it would take was a request to the mistress of this place, and the doors would open again.

A red door appeared before them. They stepped through it—and in the next instant found themselves in the dorm room. The room was completely trashed, as if someone had been searching for something. Enid froze in shock. Wednesday, on the other hand, instantly rushed to the hiding place where Faulkner’s diary had been concealed. Opening it, she immediately realized—the diary was gone.

“AAAAH!” Enid screamed, pointing in one direction.

Alex and Wednesday turned at the same time toward where Enid was pointing—and saw Thing, pinned to a wooden beam by a knife.

Alex frowned slightly. Before leaving, he had discreetly left Thing a note—a warning, just in case something went wrong. And yet…

Wednesday sprang forward and, in an instant, was beside him. With a sharp motion, she pulled the knife free.

Enid stood frozen, unable to believe her eyes, as if the sight had knocked all the air out of her.

Without saying a word, Wednesday scooped up Thing and rushed out of the room.

Alex immediately lifted Enid into his arms, stepped onto the balcony, and jumped down. Landing, he saw Wednesday running out of the dormitory—and instantly appeared beside her. Grabbing her, he teleported without wasting a second.

The next moment, they were at the beekeeping club barn—where Uncle Fester was hiding.

The instant her feet touched the ground, Wednesday tore herself from Alex’s grasp and burst into the barn.

“Uncle Fester! Help! Hurry! Thing isn’t moving!” she shouted.

Fester, who had been sleeping peacefully just a second ago, saw his old friend in a horrifying condition—and instantly sprang to his feet.

“Put him on the table,” he ordered curtly.

Alex and Enid entered after her. Fester was already trying to bring Thing back to his senses. Enid clutched Alex’s hand tightly, doing her best not to burst into tears.

Even Wednesday—usually cold and restrained—couldn’t hide her anxiety as she stared at the motionless hand. But Fester’s attempts brought no results. Alex let out a heavy sigh, gently freed himself from Enid’s grip, and stepped closer. He carefully touched Thing with the tip of his finger.

The wound in the center of the palm began to close. Another moment—and one of the fingers twitched. A second later, Thing suddenly sprang up, standing on his fingers as if nothing had happened. Enid exhaled in relief and pressed a hand to her chest. Wednesday let out a breath as well—and unexpectedly hugged Alex. Fester ran a hand over his bald head, wiping away sweat, having already mentally said goodbye to his old friend.

“Ah, Thing…” Alex said, lighting a cigarette. “I told you—be careful. Did you at least see who did it?”

“You knew everything?” Wednesday asked sharply, looking at him.

“I did,” Alex replied calmly. “And before you get angry—Thing agreed to the plan. And secondly, this worked in our favor.”

He placed a hand on her head. Wednesday frowned and looked at Thing. He raised his thumb in a thumbs-up.

Thing began rapidly explaining with gestures what had happened after they left: how black fog had appeared in the room, followed by a figure in a cloak, its face hidden by the same fog. How the uninvited guest had turned everything upside down.

And the last thing he remembered was being pinned to the beam with a knife when he tried to hide Faulkner’s diary again.

At the same time, Alex texted Dean, briefly ordering him to head to Nevermore and giving him the meeting point.

“A stab in the back…” Wednesday hissed, clenching her fists. “A coward. I swear, I’ll personally torture the one responsible.”

Alex smirked and nodded toward Thing.

“Technically, he doesn’t have a back. He’s a hand.”

In response, Thing demonstratively showed Alex his middle finger. Without blinking, Alex returned the gesture. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hand and calmly explained that they needed to wait for Dean before continuing the conversation. Wednesday frowned, but still nodded.

About ten minutes passed before Dean entered the barn. He looked around, raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and stopped by the entrance.

“So, what kind of meeting did I miss?”

“Well…” Alex began, lighting a cigarette. “Someone tried to kill Thing. And it looks like we already know who’s behind it.”

“He’s a hand,” Dean remarked skeptically. “How do you even kill him? And what do you mean, ‘we know who did it’?”

Alex smirked.

“Let’s just say… I left a little surprise in the diary. The very one that was stolen.”

Wednesday snapped her head toward Alex.

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I was adding notes today?” he continued. “Well, between the lines I left a tracking rune. When our mysterious villain picked up the diary, the mark activated.”

He paused, clearly savoring the moment.

“And now—drumroll—I know who the culprit is.”

“Awesome,” Enid breathed out and immediately grabbed Alex’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, pink girl,” Dean waved her off. “You’ll have time to feed his ego later. What’s the plan?”

Alex cleared his throat and got down to business. He explained in detail what needed to be done and in what order. First, warn Larissa Weems so she could evacuate all the students from the school. Then wait for support from the Bureau to isolate the area and ensure there were no civilian casualties.

Alex spoke clearly, without unnecessary emotion, laying everything out like a multi-move game of chess. Everyone listened attentively, committing the details to memory.

Wednesday and Enid understood why he was acting this way—Alex couldn’t afford to show more power than absolutely necessary. When the plan was fully laid out, it became clear that all they could do now was wait until every safety measure was in place.

Wednesday understood her role perfectly. Bait. And it didn’t bother her in the slightest. On the contrary—the thought of revenge warmed her far more than any fire. Dozens of ways to deal with the culprit were already forming in her mind. And the pleasure she would take in it.

To be continued…

(I thought it was time to wrap up this mini-arc. I think I’ll finish it in one or two chapters. While I was writing this chapter, I was simultaneously thinking about how to finish everything. I’m still debating whether to show the Oldest House, because I have a couple of plans for the Oldest House, and it’s not hard to guess what awaits Alex there. Hmmm…)

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

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep