Chapter 106: Ever Tried Lemonade That Costs $100 a Glass?
Jennifer's voice carried a hint of languid magnetism, each word like a feather gently teasing Edward's senses. Her captivating eyes, under the dim light, glowed with an alluring charm, as if they could draw in one's very soul.
Edward chuckled, closing the door behind him, and the entire room was instantly enveloped in a sensual atmosphere. He walked step by step to the bed, looking down at the enchanting beauty before him.
"Waiting for what?" He asked knowingly, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
Jennifer extended her slender fingers, her fingertips lightly tracing her sexy collarbone, slowly moving down along the edge of her silk nightgown, her gaze never leaving Edward's face.
"Of course... waiting for Master to take care of me," she licked her full red lips, every movement filled with fatal temptation.
After becoming a succubus, Jennifer's power and perception were greatly enhanced, but at the same time, her dependence and craving for Edward also grew daily. This longing wasn't mere lust, but a bond originating from the depths of her soul. Edward's scent, to her, was like a drug—an addiction she couldn't break.
Edward leaned down, pinching her delicate chin, his thumb feeling the smoothness and warmth of her skin. "You miss me that much?"
"Every single moment." Jennifer made no attempt to hide her feelings. She wrapped her arms around Edward's neck, flipped him over, and pinned him onto the soft bed, taking the dominant position.
She looked down at the man beneath her, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall, a few strands playfully brushing Edward's cheek, causing a slight tickle.
"Master, you smell so good," Jennifer took a deep breath, a look of pure intoxication on her face.
"Oh really?" Edward clasped his hands behind his head, watching her leisurely. "Then you'd better savor it."
As night deepened, the temperature in the bedroom continued to rise...
The next morning, when the first ray of sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, Edward had already quietly left. He didn't disturb anyone, only leaving a gentle kiss on Jennifer's forehead.
Mounting his beloved Fenrir motorcycle, accompanied by the low and powerful roar of the engine, Edward, like black lightning, rode away from the familiar neighborhood and embarked on his journey to Washington State.
The wind roared in his ears, and the scenery on both sides rapidly receded. This feeling of riding free on the open road gave Edward a long-lost sense of liberation and exhilaration. No little devils to worry about, no troublesome matters to deal with—only him and Fenrir, and the road ahead leading to the unknown.
He wasn't in a hurry. It was more like a spontaneous road trip. He rode during the day, enjoying the scenery along the way, and at night, he found a motel to crash in, enjoying the rare peace and quiet.
Three days later, as Fenrir's tires rolled over the land of New Jersey, the sky had already begun to darken. Edward glanced at a road sign that read "Westfield."
"This'll work," he murmured to himself, preparing to rest for the night in this seemingly peaceful suburban town.
He slowed down, cruising slowly through the town's streets, looking for a suitable motel. Just as he passed an intersection, an absurdly simple stand caught his attention.
It was a stand made of a few beat-up wooden crates, with the crooked words "Lemonade" and "Orange Juice" scrawled on it. The handwriting looked like a child's, and the marker was smudged, as if it had endured plenty of weather.
Two kids sat behind the stand.
One girl, about ten or eleven, with skin so pale it was almost translucent, wearing a black dress that seemed completely out of place. She had two long, dark braids, a cold expression, and her eyes held a darkness and maturity completely unsuited for her age.
Next to her sat a boy who looked slightly older, a bit pudgy, also dressed in black, idly poking the ground with a small stick, a vacant, confused expression on his face.
This combination, no matter how you looked at it, gave off seriously creepy vibes.
Edward's inner snark reflex kicked in. Are all kids these days this extra? Cosplaying goth to sell lemonade?
Out of curiosity, he parked Fenrir on the side of the road, took off his helmet, and walked over.
"Hey there, kids," Edward said, putting on what he considered his most friendly smile.
The chubby boy looked up at him, said nothing, and then continued poking the ground.
The girl in the black dress didn't even bother to look up, merely asking in a flat, monotone voice, "What do you want?"
This cold reception left Edward feeling rejected. He rubbed his nose and pointed to the large jar of yellowish liquid on the stand.
"Lemonade. How much for a cup?"
The girl finally looked up, her black eyes calmly fixed on Edward, as if looking at an inanimate object. She slowly extended one finger.
Edward guessed, "One dollar?"
The girl shook her head.
"Ten bucks?" Edward raised an eyebrow, thinking the price was already steep.
The girl still shook her head expressionlessly, then clearly uttered a number in her cool, flat voice.
"One hundred dollars."
The air seemed to freeze at that moment.
Edward's smile faltered. He tapped his ear, wondering if he was having auditory hallucinations from too many hours on the road.
"Say what now? Run that by me again?"
"One hundred dollars per cup," the girl repeated without a hint of humor in her tone. "Cash only. No checks, no credit cards."
Edward was utterly speechless. He studied the expressionless little girl in front of him, then looked at the boy next to her who was absorbed in playing with dirt, his mind racing.
This was highway robbery! Faster than knocking over a 7-Eleven!
"Kid, is your lemonade made of liquid gold, or does drinking it grant you superpowers?" Edward couldn't help but snark.
A subtle change finally appeared on the girl's face—a mixture of contempt and impatience.
"Neither," she said coldly, her voice carrying an oddly formal cadence. "This is necessary funding for my family's restoration. We are the displaced Addams family, conspired against by a treacherous lawyer and a greedy creditor. They sent someone to impersonate our long-lost Uncle Fester, seizing our ancestral estate and mansion."
She paused, then continued in a tone as if reciting from a dark play, "Now, we are forced into this tedious and insipid normal human society. To survive and gather resources to reclaim everything that rightfully belongs to us, we must stoop to selling these beverages brewed from the suffering and tears of mortals."
Edward listened, completely dumbfounded.
Holy shit, with that dramatic delivery, she'd kill it on Broadway. And the Addams family? That name definitely rang a bell.
He could sense that the girl in front of him wasn't lying.
Although her emotions were tightly controlled, the deep-seated rage and resentment, like an undercurrent in the abyss, couldn't escape Edward's perception.
Moreover, a faint, very peculiar energy lingered around these two children. It wasn't evil magic, nor divine light, but a unique aura mixed with death, darkness, and stubborn obsession.
Interesting.
A smile returned to Edward's lips. He no longer saw this as a simple encounter but developed genuine interest.
He looked at Wednesday's icy little face and slowly said, "Your story sounds pretty wild. But one hundred dollars a cup for lemonade—I still think that's steep."
"Then please leave and stop interfering with our business," Wednesday dismissed him without ceremony.
"Hold on now." Edward extended a finger and wagged it in front of the girl. "How about we make a deal?"
A flicker of wariness crossed Wednesday's black eyes.
The smile on Edward's face became somewhat mysterious. He lowered his voice, speaking in a tempting tone, "You give me a free cup of lemonade, and in exchange, I'll tell you your future and how you can most quickly reclaim your family's property. Sound fair? You'd be making a killing on this deal."
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