The next day, Ethan did not attend a single class.
Why would he? In his first life, he'd already survived university and was a heartbeat away from graduation. Going back to high school felt like being asked to repeat kindergarten.
Besides, he was rich. Painfully rich. The kind of rich that made attendance feel more like a suggestion than a requirent.
So instead of sitting through lectures he already understood, he decided to slack off.
Now he sat in the Quad—the heart of Nevermore Academy. Just like in the Wednesday series, it was a wide stone courtyard ringed by gothic walkways and shadowed walls.
In the center, the fountain bubbled around a large, bleached tree that had long since surrendered to death.
At the edge stood the statue of Edgar Allan Poe, eternally watching over the chaos of teenage outcasts.
Ethan lounged on a bench, unbothered by the passing students, eating a sandwich like this was his natural habitat.
Unlike the rest of the students wrapped in Nevermore's usual black-and-purple uniforms, Ethan wore an all-black version—no purple, just clean lines and expensive fabric. It stood out imdiately.
So did he.
Crimson eyes, sharp features, that effortless kind of handso—students tried (and failed) not to stare as he sat in the Quad eating his sandwich like soone who belonged there and nowhere at the sa ti.
A bright hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder.
"Howdy, Ethan!"
He glanced up to see Enid practically radiating sunshine, her smile bright enough to be its own weather pattern.
Right behind her was Wednesday Addams—monochro, silent, and carrying an aura so cold it could cancel Enid out on contact.
"You know," Ethan said casually, "watching you two together feels like watching two generations—black and white and color."
Enid gasped, delighted. "Oh my god, that is so accurate! We're like a living aesthetic palette." She twirled a strand of her hair. "Do I give pastel rainbow energy? Because I totally feel like pastel rainbow energy."
Wednesday's gaze flicked from Ethan to Enid. "If this is a palette, I am the void," she said, voice flat. "And he's implying you're bright enough to blind the weak-willed."
Enid only smiled wider—complints, even accidental ones, were still complints to her.
Ethan tilted his head. "Enid, who might this be?"
Enid perked up. "Oh! Right—this is my roommate, Wednesday." She gestured like she was presenting a very pretty but very dangerous knife.
"Oh, your na is Wednesday," Ethan said, offering his hand politely. "Pleased to et you."
Wednesday looked at the extended hand the sa way one might examine a suspiciously ticking package.
"I don't shake hands with strangers," Wednesday said, her voice cool and precise. "Especially not with handso ones. They're usually the ones hiding the most disturbing secrets."
Ethan blinked. "Oh. Thanks for that, I guess."
"That wasn't a complint," Wednesday replied without missing a beat. "Don't flatter yourself."
Before Ethan could respond, Enid practically bounced. "Anyway! Ethan—can you, um, share your socials? TikTok, Insta, Facebook—literally anything works!"
Ethan gave a small apologetic shrug. "Sorry, I don't really do social dia. I'm more of a… free bird. But you can have my number. ssage anyti."
Enid's eyes sparkled. Jackpot.
She grabbed his phone with practiced speed, typed her number in, then gave a quick missed call to her own.
Wednesday watched the exchange like soone observing a lab experint—one destined to fail.
To her, social dia was an open grave people willingly leapt into, shouting their aningless thoughts into the void as if anyone cared. A cetery of the intellectually deceased.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are your eyes natural, or is it so desperate attempt at attention-seeking? Contacts? A delusion? A dical condition?"
"They're natural," Ethan said. "Pure-blood vampire."
Wednesday studied him for another second, as if cross-referencing him with every suspicious profile she'd ever filed away.
Before she could say more, Ethan's phone buzzed—a ssage from Uncle Mike
Bike hidden. Sending location.
Ethan stood up. "Alright, girls. I need to go. See you around."
He walked off, leaving the two behind.
Enid watched him go, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Still… Ethan's kinda mysterious."
Wednesday turned slightly. "Amuse . How so?"
"I tried looking him up on Insta, Facebook, Twitter—nothing!" Enid said, tugging her sleeves. "Even a total social outcast like you had sothing online before Nevermore. But him? Zero. It's like he didn't exist before this week."
Wednesday's expression didn't change, but sothing sharpened in her eyes.
"And people are saying Principal Weems personally invited him," Enid added. "Don't you think that's… you know, suspicious?"
Wednesday's gaze drifted to where Ethan disappeared. Her mind was already categorizing him—features, behavior, inconsistencies.
Her internal verdict shifted
From: pretty face
To: active investigation.
"Yes Indeed " Said Wednesday
*****
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