The dim glow of candlelight flickers against the dark walls of Nevermore Academy’s library. It’s well past curfew, but Wednesday Addams never concerned herself with such trivial rules. She sits comfortably in a large, antique armchair, legs tucked beneath her, a thick leather-bound book resting in her lap. The scent of aged paper and melting wax fills the air, a comforting contrast to the bitter chill of the night.

Beside her, Thing lazily taps his fingers on the table, keeping rhythm with the soft, eerie melody she hums under her breath. Outside, the wind howls through the trees, but inside, all is still. No irritating voices, no unnecessary conversations—just silence, solitude, and the lingering thrill of a freshly uncovered mystery waiting to be solved.

For once, Wednesday feels… at peace. Not happy, of course. That would be disgusting. But content in her own morbid way.

She turns a page. "Death? How delightfully tragic."