[Perseus POV]
These days feel a little strange. I divide my time between my two girls, and somehow, I survive it — though gossip spreads like wildfire.
People love to talk. Rumors circle endlessly. No one dares speak against me directly; I've always treated others well, and I move with what they call the "cool group." Most wouldn't risk turning me into an enemy. Sometimes I wonder if this is just an American thing, or if I was too lost in books in my past life to notice it there too.
But Enid? She shines too brightly. Last year she made herself a target — girls jealous of her being with me, rivals who picked fights she refused to lose. She stood her ground, but teenagers have long memories. Now those grudges come back sharpened.
The gossip says she bragged she was the superior choice, because she wasn't a normie like Wednesday. They say she bought into fantasy of 'You can totally beat god' in theory… only for God to actually descend and say, 'All right, let's run the ones', in real life.
And then there's the timing. I went from having another girlfriend to suddenly being engaged, while she was left completely out of the loop. She went from equal, on paper, to interloper in reality. What was once her source of pride and confidence has curdled into mockery.
I handled it the simple way: I walked into the rooms of the ones whispering and told them to stop… or be buried alive. That ended most of it.
And yet, I wonder if it is enough? What more can I do for her? Not just against the rumors, but for the fragile side she hides behind glitter and smiles. Do I need to make some kind of statement?
Still, while Enid drowns in petty rivalries, bigger games move in the background.
The plot of Season One. A teacher trying to resurrect a spirit to wipe out outcasts, gathering body parts through her little pet. In the show, it needed Wednesday's blood to activate the ritual.
But this Wednesday? Someone who mastered her visions and more brutal… let's say more real than the version they showed on the Tv Serie. Honestly, I almost pity the mastermind hiding behind the curtain. How long before Wednesday knocks on her door with a knife?
The real question is: how fast will she speedrun it?
Still, my presence here may change things. Maybe some details shift or there are threats the show never hinted at.
As for intervening? I don't care about protecting the script. I know Wednesday enjoys mystery things, so let her have her fun.
While I'm still deciding whether to stay passive or act, my phone lights up. A message from Xavier.
Wednesday got hurt at fencing. Infirmary.
Bianca managed to get to her? Just like the show? I thought it impossible now that Wednesday had trained her gift, made herself stronger. Guess some things are harder to change.
I pick up a red apple from the table and leave. If nothing else, I can at least enjoy teasing her while she bleeds.
[Wednesday POV]
I lie on the infirmary bed, eyeing the nurse the way a predator watches a slow-moving target. She keeps trying to examine the bruises on my face, but I move just enough to make her efforts useless. Her persistence is admirable, but annoying.
Then the door opens. Of course, it's him.
Before I can say anything to send him away, he sits beside me like he belongs there. He pulls a small knife from his coat and begins peeling a red apple with quiet precision.
"I don't need your presence," I tell him in my most uninterested tone. "And I definitely don't want your food."
He doesn't blink. "Sure, darkling. Have some."
He slices a perfect piece and slips it past my lips before I can stop him. Arrogance disguised as kindness.
I glare at him while chewing.
I hate that he remembers. When I was younger and sick, he saw my mother peel an apple for me. Ever since, he always brings one, as if it means something.
"So, my black kitty got scratched in a fencing match?" he says, clearly enjoying himself. "Getting soft, Addams."
"Stalker," I reply flatly.
He shrugs, unbothered, and slides another slice between my lips.
"No good deed goes unpunished," I add quietly.
Silence follows, broken only by the ticking clock. Eventually, I swing my legs off the bed and leave. He follows, as he always does.
As we cross the courtyard, my mind is already constructing Divina, Yoko, and Bianca's downfall — piece by calculated piece. Their demise builds itself in my head like a composition. All because I told Bianca no one here was good enough to touch me, so the three of them came at once and managed to scratch me.
Then I hear it — a sound that doesn't belong. A long, metallic groan, like stone being pried from its place.
I look up.
A gargoyle tears free from the roofline, stone fangs bared in a frozen snarl as it plummets toward me. Its shadow stretches over the courtyard, swallowing me whole.
I don't move. I don't scream. I simply measure the distance and know I won't be fast enough.
But he is.
Perseus's hand clamps around my arm, his grip iron and unyielding. In one smooth motion he spins me aside, a step too elegant for something born of panic. The world tilts, the air rushes past, and the gargoyle smashes into the stones behind us.
The gargoyle crashes to the ground behind us, shattered pieces spraying across the stone path.
I stare at the ruin. The broken pieces scatter in a grotesque pattern across the flagstones, almost ceremonial. Almost a headstone. And I remember the vision from the ritual.
Beside me, his voice cuts through the silence, low and theatrical.
"My fool," Percy murmurs, with mock gallantry, "what a beautiful day to not die."
I look up into his eyes, those infuriatingly perfect eyes framed by that stupidly symmetrical face, and I hate how fast my heart is beating.
My voice stays even. "It didn't fall by chance. Someone planned that."
His expression changes. The amusement fades slightly and something heavier settles behind his gaze.
"You know who it is?" I ask.
He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he studies me, as if weighing how much truth to hand me.
"Yeah," he says at last. His voice is calm, too calm. "But I figured you'd enjoy the chase. You always did like the kind of mysteries that nearly get you killed."
I should have pushed him away. I should have told him I don't need him caring more than I ever asked him to.
But I didn't.
Instead, I looked at him, and for a few seconds, there was no courtyard, no broken stone, no enemies lurking in the dark. Just his eyes on mine, steady, unblinking, and the silence between us, thick with everything we've never said.
Then, slowly, deliberately, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't poetic. It was quiet, like the moment before a storm.
Three heartbeats, maybe four. Then I pulled away, colder already, picking up a shard from the broken gargoyle.
"I'm going to find out who did this," I said, my voice as calm as the blade I was already sharpening in my mind, "and I'm going to make them scream."
But even as I spoke, I didn't let go of his hand.
************
Author Noter:
Yeah, yeah, it's short… that's why you're getting an extra chapter today.
Big thanks to Slayer76 for suggesting and helping shape the logic behind the gossip.