When the first ray of morning sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains into the dorm room, Enid Sinclair was dreaming of swimming in a sea of rainbow syrup.
Then, she heard a "slurp—slurp—" sound.
"Mmm... who's drinking soup so early in the morning?" she mumbled groggily, turning over and burying her face in her unicorn pillow.
"It's not soup," Wednesday's voice came from the opposite bed, cold as ice, "it's some kind of mixture from hell."
Enid's eyes snapped open.
Victor Black was sitting cross-legged on his "toilet kingdom" territory, with a bowl of pitch-black noodles in front of him, drizzled with a thick brown sauce that looked like some kind of excrement mixed with asphalt.
Venom leaned half its body out from his shoulder, using its tendrils to scoop up the noodles and slurp them into its mouth like spaghetti.
"Good morning, ladies!" Victor grinned, his teeth stained with suspicious black residue.
"Want some? I just got back from the cafeteria. Honestly, the academy's food has zero creativity, so I cooked it myself..."
"Ta-da! Squid ink noodles with chocolate sauce—double the richness!"
Wednesday and Enid simultaneously wore expressions that screamed, "How can humans do this?"
"You call this food?" Wednesday's voice sounded like it had just been dug out of a morgue freezer. "This looks like cursed swamp sludge."
"Tastes like it too!" Victor cheerfully added, slurping another big mouthful. "Venom says this stuff has more chew than brains."
Venom nodded: "And the chocolate sauce masks the fishy taste of the squid ink. Perfect."
Enid's nose twitched. Her werewolf sense of smell instantly caught the bizarre sweet-and-salty mixed scent. Her stomach let out a protesting gurgle.
"You... how did you even think of mixing these two things together?" she asked with difficulty.
Enid felt that this plate of food—well, let's call it food for now—was basically the Frankenstein of the food world.
"Inspiration comes from life!" Victor raised a fork, twirling a clump of black noodles. "Last night, I saw Wednesday eating squid ink noodles and Enid munching on a chocolate bar, and then my genius brain had a flash of insight—"
"—and then short-circuited," Wednesday coldly interrupted. "Normal people would think these two foods shouldn't meet, not create a taste catastrophe."
Victor didn't mind at all. He even enthusiastically pushed the bowl forward: "Don't be shy! Venom prepared two extra servings!"
Wednesday and Enid exchanged a look, reaching a rare consensus—they absolutely would not eat this stuff.
Wednesday gracefully got out of bed. She walked over to Victor, looked down at the bowl of "food," her gaze as if examining a corpse that had been rotting for three weeks.
"Let me guess," she said slowly. "Your taste buds were eaten by Venom in childhood, right?"
"Hey!" Venom protested. "I only eat brains and chocolate. Don't slander me!"
Victor grinned and stuffed another mouthful: "Don't be so picky, Wednesday! Life is about daring to try new things!"
"Life should also be about daring to admit mistakes," Wednesday said expressionlessly. "For example, you should admit right now that this bowl is a desecration of the culinary arts."
Enid covered her nose and leaned in a bit closer. A few strands of her short golden hair stood up from static, like a startled little animal.
"I... I actually really like chocolate," she whispered. "But this is just too..."
"Too perfect?" Victor looked at her expectantly.
"Too disgusting!" Enid finally couldn't help blurting out.
Victor dramatically clutched his chest: "Oh! My heart is broken! Venom, they don't understand our art!"
Venom licked its lips: "Don't be so mean, girls. Want a taste?" It used a tendril to scoop up a small clump of noodles, offering it to Wednesday and Enid.
Enid recoiled like a cat with its fur puffed up.
Wednesday stared at the clump of brown-and-black substance, her eyes as if looking at a murder weapon.
"If you try to pollute the air with that stuff again," she said softly, "I'll give you an enema with chocolate sauce."
Venom: "Is she serious?"
Victor nodded: "I think so."
Enid sighed and rubbed her temples: "Victor, normal people don't add chocolate to squid ink noodles."
"But I'm not normal!" Victor declared righteously.
Wednesday: "On that point, I can't argue."
Half an hour later, the trio plus a symbiote appeared in the Nevermore Academy cafeteria.
Enid carefully sat as far away from Victor as possible, holding a plate of normal human food—fried eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a chocolate milkshake.
Wednesday only took a cup of black coffee, as if her body ran on bitterness and hatred.
Victor... Victor returned with a large plate of "experimental breakfast."
"Look!" he announced excitedly. "I improved the recipe!"
On the plate was piled:
Sausage slathered with peanut butter;
Scrambled eggs drizzled with maple syrup;
Bacon sandwiched with strawberry jam;
And a bowl of cereal soaked in cola.
Enid's fork froze in mid-air: "Seriously?"
"Of course!" Victor scooped a spoonful of cola-soaked cereal. "Venom says carbs and fizzy drinks are a perfect match!"
Venom emerged from his shoulder, licking its lips: "We watched a food documentary last night."
Wednesday took a sip of coffee, her eyes lifeless: "I hope the director of that documentary has committed suicide by now."
Just then, Bianca Barclay walked past with her tray. Her silver eyes swept over Victor's "cuisine," and the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Do you werewolves all eat this kind of stuff now?" she asked Enid, a hint of subtle sympathy in her tone.
Enid immediately distanced herself: "I'm not familiar with him!"
"Hey!" Victor protested. "We're roommates!"
Bianca sneered and was about to leave when Victor suddenly held up a peanut butter sausage: "Want a taste?"
Her expression was as if she'd been splashed with sulfuric acid.
"I'd rather eat my own vocal cords."
Wednesday clapped softly: "Finally, someone speaks my mind."
After the breakfast disaster ended, the three stood before the academy's course announcement board. Nefermore's schedule was written in blood-red ink, like some kind of mystical rune array:
"Werewolf Sociology" (Location: Moonlight Courtyard)
"Advanced Fencing and Assassination Arts" (Location: Second-floor Training Ground)
"Siren Hypnosis Theory and Practical Application" (Location: Black Lake Dock)
"Toxicology and Pastry Making" (Location: Kitchen/Lab)
Wednesday's finger went straight to the fencing class, her black robe swirling: "I'm going here."
Victor immediately leaned over: "Fencing? Cool! I can be your sparring partner!"
Wednesday gave him a cold glance: "If you come within three meters of me, my sword will 'accidentally' pierce your throat."
"Wow, so fierce!" Victor chuckled and stepped back, then suddenly turned to Enid. "Then I'll go with Little Wolf Girl to the werewolf class!"
The tips of Enid's ears instantly turned pink.
"Wh-who allowed you to call me Little Wolf Girl!" she stammered, her nails unconsciously extending and retracting. "And outsiders aren't welcome in werewolf classes!"
Victor pulled out a book from nowhere titled "How to Tame Your Little Wolf Girl," flipping noisily to a marked page: "The book says werewolves love being scratched behind the ears—"
"That's for dogs!!!" Enid snatched the book and smacked him on the head with it. Her short golden hair puffed up like a dandelion, and the base of her tailbone felt strangely warm—heaven knows why she felt that way when she hadn't even grown a tail yet.
Wednesday had already turned to leave, but her voice drifted back: "Remember to record it. I want to see how he dies."