Wednesday walked up to Vic, observing Winnie twitching her little nose at the Hyde claw. Her calm voice carried a barely perceptible hint of skepticism.
"I don't doubt your ability to acquire the Queen of England's crown, but can this little creature determine the truth based on scent alone?"
"Hehe~" Vic grinned smugly, lowering his voice.
"This is the special skill of the Wayne family, and this little one is the best of the best. Her nose is more sensitive than the most precise mass spectrometer."
"Wait, the Wayne family?"
Enid covered her mouth in shock, her eyes wide as saucers.
"That legendary pure-blood werewolf couple? The living legends of the werewolf world?!"
"I've seen their photo on the front page of Werewolf History! I always thought Winnie was just... a genius who wolfed out super early. I had no idea she was a pure-blood!"
"That's right."
Vic nodded, his eyes showing a trace of pride for the little one.
"Her situation is the exact opposite of yours. She has to wait until she grows up and her power stabilizes before she can maintain a human form. Though, the Waynes generally prefer staying in wolf form."
Enid digested this shocking information, then suddenly remembered what Vic had said earlier.
"So when you mentioned the Dracula family who took you in..."
Vic curled his lip into a smile that said isn't it obvious?
"Aside from Count Dracula himself, what other vampire would have the guts to use that title?"
"Hmm, besides them, I also know Frankenstein's Monster—Frank—who loves to gamble and constantly loses his limbs to me. And Murray the Mummy, the Pharaoh who always tries to give me grave goods. Oh, and Griffin, the famous Invisible Man, who loves pranking the girls' locker room..."
Watching Vic count them off on his fingers like family treasures, Wednesday and Enid were stunned.
What kind of god-tier, cross-species, history-spanning super network was this?!
Wednesday instantly understood many things. Like why those "Plague Doctors" knew Vic's last known location was Transylvania but never dared to actually go and catch him.
If they really went, it would probably be no different from a group delivery order for Count Dracula.
Just then, Winnie's petite nose stopped twitching. She opened her eyes, and within those clear irises belonging to a pure-blood wolf, a light flickered—target locked.
"Mmhmm. He works at the Weathervane coffee shop."
Winnie spoke extremely professional content in her sweet, milky voice.
"He has curly brown hair. Even though the smell of blood on him is masked very faintly by the scent of coffee beans, but... in the last few months, he's killed at least seven people."
"Oh, and I smell a name on a crumpled payslip in his pocket—Tyler Galpin."
At this moment, even Wednesday's eternally frozen expression cracked.
She whipped her head around to look at Vic, her dark pupils screaming, "She can smell THAT directly?!"
This ability was even more convenient and direct than her psychic visions!
Vic wore a brilliant smile that said I'm so proud, and shrugged. "That's why it's called a special skill."
Wednesday shot a disdainful glance at Enid beside her, her toxic tongue instinctively activating. "Both are werewolves, and yet. Tsk tsk."
Enid instantly puffed up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her face flushing red.
"Why are you looking at me! That's a pure-blood werewolf! Her talent points are maxed out! How can I compare when I'm a mixed-blood who still only gets pimples and sharp nails on a full moon!"
Venom mumbled from the side, "Hey! I knew that coffee boy had a scent that made me drool hidden on him! I was right!"
"Shh, don't disturb me, there's more..."
Winnie closed her eyes again, sniffing even more intently at the residual aura, her little brow furrowing tight.
"It's a woman... she woke him up. She lured him into becoming a monster... She guided him from being confused and terrified at the start to gradually becoming addicted to the power and... pleasure of killing."
"That woman's scent is very unique. It's mixed with soil and the smell of specific plant sap..."
Winnie's eyes snapped open. Her small hand pointed precisely at a gentle, elegant female teacher chatting with several parents not far away.
"It's her."
Vic and Wednesday's pupils constricted abruptly. Their gazes instantly locked onto the person they knew all too well—
It was their dorm mother and botany teacher, always wearing a warm smile and endlessly patient with students: Marilyn Thornhill.
"Ha. Standard detective novel plot. The person who looks least like the killer is actually the killer."
Vic crossed his arms, watching Ms. Thornhill, his tone laced with amused commentary.
"But what is her motive?"
Wednesday frowned, her cold gaze tracking the seemingly gentle botany teacher.
"A seemingly ordinary person devoted to botany, with no apparent conflicts... why go through such trouble to resurrect a dangerous ancient entity like Crackstone? It is illogical."
He bent down and scooped up the little wolf girl, who was still analyzing the scents.
"She... she can even smell the motive?"
Wednesday's usually stoic face showed another crack of disbelief.
In this moment, she even felt a rare, subtle disdain for her own psychic abilities.
Vic knew Winnie's sense of smell was magical, but he didn't know the mechanics. It didn't matter.
He spoke in a tone that suggested this is totally normal: "You know, werewolf powers. Gifted talents."
Holding Winnie, Vic put on his harmless, brilliant smile and walked briskly toward Ms. Thornhill.
"Good morning, Ms. Thornhill!"
Vic's voice was light, greeting her like an old friend.
Ms. Thornhill turned around, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, almost imperceptible.
She seemed not to have expected Vic to come over specifically to greet her, but she quickly recovered her warm smile.
"Oh, good morning, Vic. Enjoying Parents' Weekend?"
Her gaze fell on Winnie in Vic's arms, carrying a polite curiosity. "And this is...?"
"Oh, she's sort of my little niece."
Vic grinned, holding Winnie forward slightly, acting naturally like he was showing off a family treasure.
"Cute, isn't she? She's just a little shy with strangers."
Winnie blinked her big eyes cooperatively, looking innocent and naive.
Ms. Thornhill hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take Winnie. Her movements were slightly stiff as she held the child, trying hard to maintain her kindly expression.
"She is indeed very cute..."
But she held Winnie for a very short time. Almost a few seconds later, she quickly handed the child back to Vic, as if something about Winnie made her uncomfortable.
"I still have some preparations to attend to, so I'll be going."
Ms. Thornhill's tone quickened slightly, her gaze averting from Vic.
"I hope you and your... uh... whole family enjoy the weekend."
Just as she turned to leave, Vic spoke suddenly, his tone casual as if chatting about the weather.
"Ms. Thornhill, that potted tomato plant you gave me before? It started bearing fruit recently."
Ms. Thornhill turned back slowly, a look of confusion on her face, seemingly not understanding why Vic brought this up out of nowhere.
"That... that's wonderful. Congratulations."
She forced a slightly dry smile, her tone a bit absentminded.
"Take good care of it, and the fruit will be sweeter... Sorry, I really must go."
With that, she turned and left somewhat hurriedly, her steps faster than usual.
Vic held Winnie, watching her retreating figure, the smile slowly fading from his face.
"Well, my dear little nose?" He looked down at Winnie in his arms. "Any results?"
Winnie's small face scrunched up. She nodded her little head vigorously, her clear eyes full of disgust and a hint of nausea.
"Uncle Vic."
Her milky voice was full of certainty.
"I don't like her! The... the 'malice' on her is so strong, so thick! It almost made me throw up! It's like... like lots of scary things hiding under rotting dirt!"
She waved her small hand exaggeratedly in front of her nose, as if trying to disperse the invisible, unpleasant stench.
Vic's eyes darkened.
A little wolf's instincts and sense of smell were never wrong.
That thick malice hidden beneath a gentle facade, strong enough to make even a pure-blood wolf pup sick, was the most definitive proof.
Marilyn Thornhill, their dorm mom and botany teacher, was indeed the mastermind who awakened and controlled the "Hyde," orchestrating all this chaos and death.