Wednesday Addams never believed in curses, only in people stupid enough to use one as an excuse.
At Nevermore, she solved more murders than the local police ever managed to crack, not out of virtue but out of genuine fascination with how ordinary people fall apart the moment you scratch just beneath the surface. Her method never changed: ignore what everyone already believes, and look at whatever no one bothered to check.
In Rivenspire, where locals still whisper that King Phillip's madness haunts every manor in the region ever since he slaughtered his own family, three nobles had died within a week, each found with their face frozen in pure terror.
The whole village was already muttering the word curse before the bodies had even gone cold.
Wednesday, meanwhile, found boot prints far too crisp to belong to any ghost beneath the third victim's window, and a rare Bangkorai plant drying in a corner of the garden, the very one used to brew a poison that locks a face into a permanent grimace.
She didn't even bother smiling as she announced, in front of the local lord clearly terrified of being exposed, that no ghost has ever needed freshly polished leather boots.