It took Russell about fifteen minutes to clean the green slime from his head. When he turned around, he found that Wednesday had not left. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed, staring at him expressionlessly.
“Is there still a spot I missed?” he asked hesitantly.
Wednesday shook her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Follow me.”
Russell did not refuse. He took a few steps and arrived beside Wednesday, walking side-by-side with her.
Seeing the atmosphere was a bit somber, and with many questions swirling in Russell’s mind, he turned to Wednesday and asked,
“But you were actually able to conjure bullets just now. That really opened my eyes.”
“I took those from my home,” Wednesday rolled her eyes at Russell. “My father loves to hunt, but he never lets me touch his hunting rifle.”
“That’s normal. After all, it’s still too dangerous for you. It’s understandable that Mr. Adams is worried about your safety,” Russell spread his hands. “I’m different. After all, I’m the only one left in my family. Without a gun for self-defense, I wouldn’t feel safe.”
“What’s it like to be alone?” Wednesday was a bit curious. Since her birth, she had spent most of her time in this mansion with her family. Even when she went to school, it was with her younger brother, Parsley. She had never truly lived alone.
“Neither good nor bad,” Russell thought for a long time before giving his answer. Compared to staying in the orphanage with everyone, he felt that living alone was much more comfortable. Of course, it would be even better if he had family companionship.
“That’s why I envy you, Wednesday,” Russell said with a smile. “Although your playful antics with Parsley seem a bit… too intense for me.”
Parsley Adams is Wednesday’s younger brother, one year her junior.
“You’re right,” Wednesday nodded.
The corridor before them was cramped and narrow, densely lined with rooms on both sides. The room doors were also unusual, featuring windows separated by iron bars, much like prison doors.
Although the rooms were empty, Russell felt as if something was peering at him as he passed by. But when he turned his head to look, he saw nothing.
A wizard’s home, it’s normal for there to be unusual things, Russell thought, not dwelling on it too much.
“Hundreds of years ago, this place was used as a prison. The Adams at that time were engaged in smuggling. Many short-sighted wizards coveted the Adams’ wealth and tried to secretly make a move against them, but in the end, they all died in here.”
“Legend has it that their souls cannot rest and still wander the places where they lived,” Wednesday suddenly stopped, turned around, and stared directly at Russell, a smile on her lips.
“You felt it just now, didn’t you? That feeling of being watched.”
“That’s right,” Russell nodded, not hiding anything. “You mean, those ghosts were watching me just now?”
“I don’t know,” Wednesday’s answer was somewhat unexpected to Russell.
“No one knows what it is, but if you have that feeling, it means your talent is quite extraordinary,” Wednesday said before saying nothing more.
The end of the corridor connected to the castle’s dining room. A hunched, white-haired old woman was waving a spoon, busy at the stove. Pots, bowls, and pans floated in the air, making crisp clinking sounds, and flames danced around her, yet they didn’t ignite her in the slightest.
“A little poisonous mushroom, and a little old shoe heel,” she muttered constantly, her eyes growing more focused, and her movements becoming increasingly frantic.
“Esmeralda, my grandmother,” Wednesday introduced.
“Hello, madam, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Russell waved in her direction.
Perhaps due to her intense focus, Esmeralda did not respond to Russell’s greeting. Instead, the spoon in her hand suddenly broke free and flew in front of him. Russell could even see suspicious red liquid remaining at the bottom of the spoon.
“Let me see who this is,” a smooth voice emerged from the spoon handle. It spun rapidly around Russell, making clicking sounds. Esmeralda was completely unaware that the spoon was no longer in her hand, her left hand still making stirring motions in the air.
“It seems Wednesday has reached the age of first love,” the spoon let out a strange laugh. “I have to say, her taste is good. You have my charm from back in the day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spoon, can I take that as a compliment?” Russell found it very amusing. He never thought he would be complimented by a spoon one day.
“Of course, of course,” the spoon trembled incessantly in the air. “This is the first time I’ve seen Wednesday bring a boy home. Kid, she’s got her eyes on you!”
“Shut up, Spoon,” Wednesday said coldly. Russell, however, showed no reaction; he just thought the spoon was talking nonsense.
Just as the spoon was about to say more, Esmeralda finally realized the spoon was no longer in her hand. She looked down and saw the bubbling red liquid in the pot was about to overflow.
“You’re slacking off again!” She waved her hand in the air, and the spoon, as if pulled by an invisible force, flew back into her hand as swiftly as a shooting star. It was at this moment that she finally noticed Russell’s presence.
“Hello, child, sit down and rest for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon,” she chatted with Russell while plunging the spoon into the pot and stirring continuously.
As soon as the spoon entered the liquid, the previously bubbling liquid instantly calmed down. If Russell had looked into the pot at that moment, he would have noticed a large mouth opening at the bottom of the spoon, constantly devouring the liquid in the pot while simultaneously spitting something out. A rich aroma immediately surged from the pot.
“Okay,” Russell nodded, sitting somewhat awkwardly at the flaking dining table. Wednesday followed closely, sitting beside him.
“Here’s the soup,” Esmeralda brought the pot to the dining table and thoughtfully ladled soup into Russell’s bowl.
Russell looked down. In the red soup floated an unidentified, greenish-black object, slender with hands and feet, about the size of a palm. It looked like an alien.
“Adams’ special dish, Cornish Pixie Broth,” she smiled kindly. “Let me know if you want more.”
“Aren’t we waiting for the others?” Russell poked at the object in his bowl with his spoon, watching it float in the soup, completely lacking an appetite.
“Don’t worry, they have urgent matters to attend to,” she grinned and cackled, her voice somewhat like a dying owl. “You two eat slowly. There’s still a pot of potion brewing in the basement, I need to go check on it.”
Soon, only Russell and Wednesday remained in the dining room.