On the night of the ball, the dormitory was filled with the faint scent of Enid's perfume and the smell of ancient camphor and subtle preservatives from Wednesday's gown.
Enid wore a starry blue gradient gown, its fine shimmer flowing under the lights like a piece of the night sky tailored and draped over her.
She looked at Wednesday, who was standing still nearby, her tone carrying unmasked surprise and a hint of provocation.
"I really didn't expect you'd want to go to the ball. I remember someone once precisely defined a ball as 'pointless and stupid collective social entertainment'."
Wednesday was facing a small mirror, adjusting the folds of her black mesh gloves. Hearing this, she didn't turn her head; her voice was steady and emotionless, yet it pierced through like a cold, precise scalpel.
"It couldn't be helped. Someone 'personally' invited me."
She emphasized the word "personally" very heavily.
"Hmph!"
Enid immediately crossed her arms and turned her head away, her cheeks puffing out like a little squirrel whose pinecone had been stolen.
She felt she had lost this round—
After all, she was the one who had invited Victor to the ball first.
"Wait."
Enid suddenly realized something and looked at the closed bathroom door.
"Why hasn't Victor come out yet?"
From behind the door, suppressed, furious roars could be heard, like some large beast gnawing at an iron cage.
The corner of Wednesday's mouth moved almost imperceptibly, revealing a hint of something close to pleasure.
"To purchase our gowns, Victor advanced a sum of hundreds of thousands. A significant portion of that came from a certain symbiote gentleman's 'private chocolate reserve fund'."
"Now, the legal owner of the funds has awakened and is currently providing some intense... 'feedback'."
"Hundreds of thousands of dollars?!"
Enid's eyes widened in shock, her voice rising.
"What kind of gown is that expensive?!"
Her gaze suddenly landed on the complex, ancient-looking dark gown Wednesday was wearing.
Wednesday turned slightly, letting the layered black gauze of her skirt flow like night mist, her tone carrying a natural, haughty pride.
"A Victorian antique. Custom-made for a notorious widow."
"Hey! That's not fair!"
Enid couldn't help shouting, feeling the 'gear' level gap between her and Wednesday was too large.
"Do I need to remind you of the appraisal for the 'Tears of the Deep Sea' sapphire necklace around your neck?"
Wednesday raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes sweeping over the brilliant deep blue on Enid's fair neck.
Exposed, Enid no longer hid it; a happy and slightly smug smile instantly bloomed on her face as her fingertips gently stroked the cool gemstone.
"Victor said it suits me well."
Wednesday offered no comment on this appraisal, merely giving a very faint snort.
"But..."
Once Enid's excitement passed, doubt surfaced in her mind.
"Where did Victor get so much money? I remember last week at the Weather Vane Café, he was still wailing that his funds for next month's limited-edition chocolate were almost gone."
"If you were observant enough."
Wednesday's voice carried a cold insight.
"You would find that at least seventy percent of the people in the academy have purchased'special equipment' from Victor."
"Purchased? What does he sell? Handmade cookies?" Enid asked, bewildered.
"Glock 17, nine-millimeter Parabellum rounds, standard extended magazines. Optional color schemes include but are not limited to Cherry Blossom Pink, Tiffany Blue, and Neon Green."
Wednesday rattled off a string of data, her tone as flat as if she were reading a menu.
"As far as I know, the Headmistress ordered a pearl white one with gold trim, paid in cash; it's said she keeps it in her desk drawer to...'soothe her emotions'."
Enid's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"He... he's selling guns in school?! Even the Headmistress bought one?!"
"The Headmistress believes that the most effective way to ensure student safety is to provide them with an equivalent deterrent, sufficient to 'persuade' others to remain polite."
Wednesday explained, the pleasant curve at the corner of her mouth deepening.
"Furthermore, the 'after-sales service' Victor provides is quite comprehensive, including but not limited to free modifications, ammunition replenishment, and... 'practical application guidance'."
"My god..." Enid muttered to herself, her eyes glazed. "Did I... find an arms dealer for a boyfriend?"
Just then, the bathroom door opened with a click.
The two Victors walked out simultaneously, clutching their heads with unsteady steps, their faces wearing the same dazed exhaustion of having been scolded until their souls left their bodies.
When that guy Venom starts scolding, his vocabulary is rich and extremely piercing—a double blow to both the physical and mental state.
"Victor! Are you okay?"
Enid immediately rushed forward in concern.
Azem White (Serum) rubbed his temples, his voice still relatively gentle: "I'm fine, actually..."
Azem Gray (Riot) added gloomily: "But Venom couldn't take the shock and fainted from anger again."
The two Victors let out a long, synchronized sigh of relief:
"Thank God it fainted." (x2)
Outside, the bustle of the Nevermore Academy ball drifted in faintly, like the call of a distant tide.
Azem White (Serum) turned his head slightly, his fingertips brushing the crisp collar and cuffs of his white suit.
Every movement carried an almost instinctive elegance and precision amplified by Serum, as if he were performing a silent ritual.
In sync with him, Azem Gray (Riot) appeared extremely impatient, roughly hooking a finger into the collar of his British plaid suit and pulling outward, trying to combat the rigidity that the Riot trait viewed as a "constraint".
The lines of his collarbone were faintly visible under the silk shirt due to this movement, adding a touch of restless wildness.
Their gazes met briefly in the air; within their shared consciousness, the command was issued simultaneously.
Almost at the same moment, they turned and reached out their hands to the two girls in the room.
Azem Gray's palm reached straight toward Wednesday, his movement carrying an unquestionable dominance bolstered by Riot.
He nodded slightly, the corner of his lips curling into a nearly defiant arc, his voice low and full of certain magnetism:
"My esteemed Queen."
Meanwhile, Azem White's hand reached gently toward Enid, the invitation in his fingertips radiating the warmth and sincerity granted by Serum.
His eyes rippled with smiles, his tone light and protective:
"My lovely Princess."
The next moment, their voices overlapped perfectly, carrying the absolute synchronization of shared consciousness and a hint of manic, mischief-seeking anticipation as they spoke clearly in the dormitory:
"Let's dazzle the room and let the ball burn." (x2)
Wednesday's deep-pool-like eyes glanced at Azem Gray's outstretched hand, not responding immediately.
Her gaze swept between his loosened collar and his eyes, which were filled with aggressive anticipation.
Finally, she slowly placed her hand, clad in a black mesh glove, into his palm in a gesture like accepting an offering.
No emotion could be seen on her cold face, save for a very faint, almost satisfied curve at the corner of her lips that vanished in an instant.
On the other side, Enid placed her hand in Azem White's almost the instant he finished speaking.
A brilliant smile, a mix of shyness and excitement, bloomed on her face, and her starry blue skirt rippled with her movement.
"Let's go!" Enid's voice was full of joy.
Wednesday said nothing, only tilting her chin up almost imperceptibly.
The two Victors smiled at each other, one smile bold and domineering, the other warm and sincere.
Then, with perfect understanding, they led their partners and turned in unison, walking toward the bustling dance floor of shifting light and shadow that awaited them outside.
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