Victor paced under the dim lights of Uriah's Heap, examining his surroundings with great interest.
His gaze swept over a row of stuffed squirrels wearing exquisite little dresses and stuffed foxes wearing top hats. His face was filled with pure confusion.
"Whoa," he mumbled to Venom inside him, "is it me falling behind the times, or has the definition of 'antique' broadened to include 'dressing up dead animals'? The owner actually said this stuff is a best-seller? This aesthetic is truly... Nevermore."
Just as he was considering letting Venom taste the "retro flavor" of these specimens, the shop door, hung with a bell, was pushed open. Victor turned around.
"Enid?" He blinked, surprise showing on his face.
"Whoa! I am truly curious what magic Wednesday used to convince you? I remember your little notebook was filled with pages of strategies and check-in maps for the rainbow fudge at 'Pilgrim World'."
Enid's cheeks flushed instantly. Her eyes dodged his, hands unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes: "I... I just suddenly wanted to experience the historical and cultural atmosphere! Yes, history and culture!"
Victor raised one eyebrow exaggeratedly, leaned in closer, lowered his voice, and spoke with a sly smile:
"Oh~ Dear Miss Sinclair, do you know? Every time you tell a little lie you don't quite believe yourself, your little claws can't help but go poof and pop out just a tiny bit."
"What?!" Enid jumped in fright, quickly hiding her hands behind her back and nervously feeling her fingertips—only to find she hadn't popped her claws at all.
"Just kidding~" Victor laughed immediately, like a fox that successfully stole a chicken, his eyes curving into crescents. "Just a cute little test. Looks like I guessed right."
Enid's face turned even redder, practically smoking.
Victor chuckled lightly, stepped forward very naturally, wrapped his arm gently around her waist, and led her outside.
"Let's go for a walk. I know you can't stand this place. When you hate something, the corners of your mouth turn down immediately, just like a kitten whose dried fish was stolen."
His movements were fluid and intimate, as if practiced countless times.
Victor's sudden closeness and whispered words made Enid feel dizzy, her heart beating like it was hiding a rabbit.
The certainty in his words, implying "I know you better than you know yourself," made her heart flutter, feeling both shy and inexplicably delighted.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" The chubby female shop owner of Uriah's Heap shrieked, trying to stop them with her presence.
"You are volunteers here today! Your Principal specifically instructed you to properly..."
"Oh! Respected Madam!" Victor turned around immediately, wearing a face of utmost sincere concern, interrupting her.
He pointed out the window at a ragged figure that had just run around the corner. "That homeless guy just now! He seemed to have swiped that expensive-looking vintage camera from your counter without paying!"
"What?! My camera!" The shop owner turned pale, instantly forgetting about Victor and Enid. "Quick! Go chase it back for me! That thing is worth a fortune!"
"Of course, Madam! Leave it to us, we will do our best to retrieve it!" Victor promised solemnly while hugging Enid, smiling as he backed out of the shop.
Once outside, Enid looked left and right immediately, asking in a whisper: "Um... which direction did that homeless guy run?"
Victor grinned, his arm still naturally resting on Enid's waist, leading her leisurely in the direction opposite to the corner.
"Oh, judging by my professional tracking experience," he said pretentiously, his tone relaxed and happy, "he definitely ran to the 'Weathervane' cafe."
"We can go there to 'search carefully,' and while we're at it, order some chocolate brownies and two signature milkshakes to replenish our strength. After all, chasing thieves is physical work, right?"
Enid immediately understood Victor's meaning. Her eyes lit up instantly, nodding excitedly: "Oh! Of course! Let's go there to... um... 'search with full force'! I mean, go there to enjoy... cough! Go there to execute the mission!"
The two exchanged a smile and walked tacitly toward the Weathervane cafe, which smelled of coffee and desserts, leaving Uriah's Heap and its taxidermy animals completely behind.
---
The Weathervane cafe was filled with the rich aroma of syrup, roasted coffee beans, and warm cream, a world apart from the stale wax smell of Uriah's Heap.
Victor found a window booth with practiced ease, collapsing into the soft sofa as relaxedly as if he were home. He picked up the menu and ordered skillfully: "Two chocolate lava brownies, add an extra scoop of ice cream, two vanilla milkshakes, pile the whipped cream on top like a small mountain, thanks~"
Enid sat opposite him, cupping her slightly cool cheeks with her hands, trying to cool down her burning face, but with little effect.
Her eyes were bright, staring unblinkingly at the guy opposite who was enthusiastically studying the menu for new items.
"So..." Enid's voice carried a trace of joy and curiosity, "are we considered... executing a 'secret mission'?" She lowered her voice, as if really planning some great operation.
"Of course!" Victor put down the menu, leaning forward, his expression as serious as if drafting a battle plan.
"Our mission is: Ensure the precious assets of Uriah's Heap are not taken out of the Nevermore jurisdiction by the homeless man. And the Weathervane cafe, according to reliable intel, is one of the key hubs for fencing such stolen goods."
He winked: "We must establish strict surveillance here, lie in wait patiently, and consume their... um... dessert reserves as part of our counter-strategy."
Enid giggled, feeling light as a feather, like soaking in warm honey water.
The brownies and milkshakes were served quickly.
Victor scooped a large half of the ice cream ball from his brownie and dumped it into Enid's cup without explanation.
"Eat more," he grinned. "Tracking suspects is physical work. Look at you, you've lost weight training for the Poe Cup recently."
Enid looked at her instantly super-abundant milkshake, feeling the sweetness in her heart about to overflow.
She lowered her head, taking small bites of the sweet, rich brownie, feeling ten thousand times happier than eating rainbow fudge at Pilgrim World.
"Victor," she suddenly looked up while eating, her eyes holding a trace of rare seriousness and worry. "What about... your fifty-thousand-word essay? The Principal seemed very serious."
The smile on Victor's face froze instantly, as if doused with a bucket of ice water.
He put down his fork in exaggerated slow motion, let out a sigh heavy enough to be theatrical, and slumped against the sofa back as if deboned.
"Oh... the essay..." He dragged out the word, his voice filled with despair and hopelessness. "That fifty-thousand-word academic torture... requiring me to prove that 'explosive chocolate balls are environmentally friendly and harmless'... anti-human and anti-common sense..."
He sat up abruptly, grabbing his already messy hair with both hands, looking pained: "God! Just thinking about it gives me a headache! Fifty thousand words! This is more torturous than making me eat licorice-flavored chocolate for a week straight!"
Seeing him act like the sky was falling, Enid couldn't help but burst out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth, her blue eyes full of sympathy and amusement.
"But!" Victor suddenly came back to life, slamming the table and startling Enid.
That signature brilliant smile, full of manic vitality, bloomed on his face again, his eyes shining astonishingly bright.
"As the saying goes—behind every seemingly unsolvable problem, there hides a crazier solution waiting to be discovered!"
He leaned in mysteriously toward Enid, lowering his voice as if sharing a shocking secret: "And I, have long thought of a brilliant idea!"
"What idea?" Infected by him, Enid also lowered her voice curiously, leaning forward unconsciously.
"Since the Principal asked for an 'essay'," Victor winked slyly, "she didn't specify it must be written by 'me' personally, right?"
He wagged his finger triumphantly: "So, I decided... to outsource!"
"Outsource?" Enid was stunned, blinking. "This kind of essay... can be outsourced? To whom? Upperclassmen? I'm afraid they wouldn't dare take this kind of... um... topic, right?"
"Open your mind a little, my dear Enid!" Victor snapped his fingers with a grin.
"Upperclassmen? Too ordinary! My target is—a professional! Proficient in explosive chemistry and academic fabrication, writes for money, guarantees passing plagiarism checks! A perfect match!"
A drop of cold sweat ran down Enid's forehead. "This professional sounds a bit too professional... Is he reliable? Who is he?"