Chapter 266: Revenge Claimed II

Luke vanished in the blink of an eye with Shambles. The air distorted with a hollow, dry sound, leaving behind a small object in his place, a pin. Since when Luke teleports outside his line of sight, he can’t see the air particles to switch with.

Pugsley stood still, nervous, adjusting his clothes, fixing his hair. He looked at the door, then up at the ceiling, as if trying to appear casual.

He didn’t quite understand how Luke was going to bring Tuesday. But he waited.

A few minutes later, the space shimmered again.

A soft burst of energy, and suddenly, another person appeared.

A young female figure. Long blonde hair, falling in soft waves. Pale skin like marble, eyes blue as ice. Perfect, ethereal features.

It was Tuesday, but something was wrong.

It took Pugsley a few seconds to realize it. At first, his heart jumped, his chest filled with warmth. But then… the details started to hit him like cold drops.

Tuesday had appeared using Luke’s technique. Shambles.

A technique that, as far as he knew, only Luke could use.

’Well… they’re siblings,’ he told himself. ’Maybe both of them can use it. Or maybe Luke just sent her here with his technique so she didn’t have to walk.’

But then he noticed the clothes.

Exactly the same ones Luke had been wearing just minutes ago. A loose black T-shirt. The pants were also oversized, hanging slightly off her narrow hips. No feminine fit, no personal touch. It was as if… as if someone else had worn them first. As if Tuesday had inherited them on the spot. Or rather… never changed them.

Tuesday stared at him in silence. A slight smile. Eyes half-lidded. Motionless.

Pugsley swallowed hard. His heart was beating slower now.

“Tuesday…” he whispered, a gut feeling scratching at his insides. “Is that… you?”

“Who am I?” Luke asked, tilting his head slightly.

Pugsley took a step back. His mouth parted, lower lip trembling. He raised a hand awkwardly, as if pointing might keep the truth at bay.

“I-it can’t be…” he murmured, disbelief etched in his voice.

Luke’s smile widened slowly, turning sarcastic.

“You seriously didn’t figure it out?” he asked, almost disappointed. “Love really can make someone blind.”

Luke took a step forward with mocking elegance, arms still relaxed at his sides. “Did it never cross your mind that ’Tuesday Poe’ doesn’t exist? That I’m the last living Poe… and everyone knows it. Literally everyone. I’d even say it’s modern outcast history, you know?”

Pugsley opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“You should learn from your sister. How good she is at investigating, connecting dots, finding the truth. But you… you fall far behind in that regard.” He placed a finger on his chest with feigned shyness. “Were you in love with me? Did you want to kiss me, maybe?”

The smile twisted even more.

“The same lips that kiss your sister every day? The same tongue that—”

“SHUT UP!” Pugsley screamed, his voice cracking, eyes wide in shock. He stumbled back another step, as if the floor were burning.

“Why did you do this…?” he murmured, breathing hard, his face pale as a ghost.

Luke watched him in silence for a second. The smile was gone, only a cold, hard stare remained. No trace of compassion.

“Because this is my revenge,” he said at last.

“You spent an entire summer trying to kill me. Traps, improvised explosives, weapons. Every day was another attempt. Your cousins attacked me once and ended up in the hospital. But you… you walked away without a scratch.”

Luke stepped forward, his shadow stretching long and threatening.

“You were spared because of your sister. And that left a thorn in my side. So I decided to return the favor with something a bit more… permanent. Something that won’t heal in a week or with some potion from your grandmother like it’s nothing.”

Luke leaned in slightly, his smile icy. “How does it feel? Is this better than your sister’s tortures? Did I pass? Or was I too soft?”

“SHUT UP, YOU BASTARD!” Pugsley roared, his face red with rage, shame, and humiliation.

His orange aura sparked. Electricity surged around his body, and with a roar he launched himself at Luke, his right fist crackling with lightning.

He was fast. Faster than he’d ever moved in his life.

But it wasn’t enough.

Luke didn’t even blink. He sidestepped with insulting elegance, barely twisting his body. The electricity in Pugsley’s fist didn’t even graze him, it was nullified by Luke’s telekinesis.

Luke looked at him with that same distant expression he wore when in his female form, like Pugsley was a bug that had tried to bite her and failed.

Pugsley was wide open. He knew it instantly. Before he could retreat, Luke had already struck.

His fist slammed into Pugsley’s stomach. The air burst out of his lungs. Saliva sprayed from his mouth like a foamy jet.

The world blurred.

And before he could collapse, a delicate hand, too feminine, too ironic, grabbed him by the hair.

“You look disappointed, Pugsley. But you’re young, you’ll find love,” Luke whispered cruelly.

He threw him with just one hand as if he weighed nothing.

Pugsley rolled across the floor like a ragdoll, landing on his back, gasping, covered in dust.

But Luke wasn’t done. He walked toward him with slow, steady steps, as if his revenge had no urgency.

When he got close enough, he started kicking Pugsley. Not hard enough to break bones, not even to leave real injuries. Just enough to bruise his pride. To make him feel small.

Quick, dry kicks, laced with contempt. “Pff… you stink. And you wanted to be part of my family? What a joke,” he spat, disinterested.

Another kick.

“Now you know actions have consequences.”

Another.

“Wasn’t this what you liked? Wasn’t this how Tuesday treated you? Cold and cruel… Didn’t you melt every time she ignored or humiliated you? Weird fetish you’ve got.”

Pugsley didn’t respond. His hands were trembling. His cheeks were flushed. He got up with difficulty, avoiding Luke’s gaze. He staggered, breathing hard, and without saying a word, began running toward the exit.

Luke let him go. Satisfied to have finally carried out his vendetta.

Pugsley reached the door, and stopped dead.

There, arms crossed, stood Wednesday. Quietly leaning against the frame, as if she had been watching for a while. She said nothing. Just looked at him with those eyes black as bottomless wells.

Pugsley froze, panting, his heart still pounding with rage and humiliation. His eyes met hers.

There was no compassion in Wednesday’s gaze. Not a hint of tenderness. Only coldness. Judgment. Calm disdain.

“You… knew?” Pugsley whispered, still shaking.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, as if the question itself were a personal insult.

“Seriously?” she said with a sigh heavy with disappointment. “Are you stupid, or just incredibly naive?”

Pugsley looked away.

“Everyone knew. Mom, Dad, Fester, Lurch… even Thing. Literally, Thing,” said Wednesday, looking at him as if sharing genes with him were a curse.

Silence thickened in the room.

Wednesday leaned in slightly toward him, her voice lower, sharper. “You sow stupidity, you reap humiliation. You tried to kill your sister’s boyfriend all summer long. Did you think Luke wouldn’t get his revenge? First mistake. We always taught you that revenge is one of the most important things in our world. Second mistake: you tried to kill someone way stronger than you.”

Pugsley didn’t answer. He just ran out of the room.

Wednesday walked up to Luke until she was standing in front of him, “That was a great vendetta,” she said simply.

Luke smiled. “Thanks… I learned from the best.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, accepting the compliment with a look of calm pride. Then her gaze turned a little more intense.

“Watching the whole thing unfold, from the very first moment… when Pugsley saw you and had that lovesick idiot face… it was fascinating. Watching his expression slowly shift into disbelief and despair. It honestly turned me on,” she murmured with a cold, almost sensual tone.

Luke’s eyes widened slightly. He stepped closer, ignited.

“Then maybe we should—”

Wednesday raised a hand to stop him. Her face was calm but firm, “You’re in your female form. Don’t even think about touching me.”

Luke froze, frustrated, and huffed. “Damn potion. Just when you were getting so receptive…”

Wednesday turned slightly, not looking at him. “Control your libido, princess,” she said dryly.

Luke smirked faintly. “Well, since you don’t want to touch me romantically… let’s train.”

“Good,” Wednesday nodded. That was what she had come for, aside from witnessing the vendetta.

“Oh, I’ll call Enid to train too,” Luke added.

Wednesday glanced at him sideways, inspecting his feminine expression with interest. “That’s good,” she said. “A very good sign.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “What sign?”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, satisfied. “That you thought of including her on your own. Without anyone reminding you. The plan is working, and we’ve only been living together for four days.”

Luke didn’t deny it. He just let out a soft breath through his nose.

“Maybe… I also want her to see me like this. I want to see her reaction,” Luke admitted.

Wednesday watched him silently for a moment. “To see if she still loves you no matter the form?”

“Maybe. I want to know if the Mate Bond is really that powerful… And let’s be honest. My female form isn’t that different from the male one. My features are still there. Just softer. More refined. More… magically irresistible.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but a faint curve formed on her lips.

“And actually,” Luke added with a mischievous smile, “if we ever had a daughter, and she took after me… maybe she’d look like this.”

Wednesday looked at him. In complete silence.

“Though I hope she doesn’t inherit my sarcasm. That would make her a nightmare to raise…” Luke added.

Wednesday exhaled softly through her nose, her face as neutral as ever, but her eyes sparkled with something she couldn’t fully hide. “I hope she doesn’t inherit your ego. Because then we really are doomed.”

“Oh, please. Look who’s talking about egos,” Luke said, shaking his head, and with that, they began to train.

…

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