Wednesday Addams' Second Personality (Remake)

'Am I still alive?'

Tuesday pondered the mystery of his survival.

It had been six months since he arrived here.

His body had narrowly escaped being swallowed by a lion, bitten by a live bear rug, and electrocuted.

'How the hell am I still alive?'

It was a complete mystery.

The mansion was full of dangers, and even after six months, he lacked the courage to explore them all.

The interiors were filled with dust, spider webs, swords, and other unidentified objects.

It was far from a family-friendly place.

The body's owner was an inquisitive child who would try to explore the creepiest places without fear or hesitation.

Due to the child's indiscriminate behavior, Tuesday had learned how to control his body even when the child was awake.

Wednesday had tried to grasp a sword from an armor display with innocent curiosity. Another hand desperately restrained her actions.

The child frowned and repeatedly tried to reach the sword, only to be stopped again and again.

Frustrated, she bit her wrist in anger and stretched her foot toward the sword.

'You little devil!'

Again, her actions were thwarted by another foot.

Wednesday resumed her struggle with a strange and competitive intensity.

The child twitched on the ground as if possessed.

'♪~' Tuesday began to sing a slow and calming lullaby.

Wednesday finally ceased her struggle and closed her eyes to listen.

Seizing the opportunity, Tuesday discreetly manipulated their legs and crawled back to the cradle.

Every action was executed perfectly, as he had done it more times than he could count.

Wednesday used every available resource to escape the cradle and often engaged in dangerous and troublesome activities.

Tuesday was working as a 24/7 babysitter for free. He could cry tears of blood at any moment.

He no longer cared about the terrifying mansion or the parents; Wednesday was far scarier.

'Do you think you have anoother seven lives to waste, you little rascal?!' Tuesday cursed inwardly.

Taking care of Wednesday was more exhausting than attending multiple shows in a single day without breaks, and he spoke from personal experience.

When he finished the lullaby, Wednesday finally fell asleep again.

Sigh...

'I didn't die for this shit.'

With Wednesday's mind at rest, control of the body returned to Tuesday. However, he didn't move.

He didn't want to waste his efforts, and it would be detrimental to their body to keep moving when they were supposed to be resting.

Tuesday began to organize all the information from the past six months in his head.

He discovered that his voice wasn't normal either. He had the power to attract and influence people's emotions.

At first, he thought his voice just had a calming effect, but when he made Kitty, the lion, fall asleep with his singing, he started to doubt himself.

The effect varied based on the tone and emotion he simulated in his voice. If she sang an upbeat song, the people around him would react accordingly.

This was the second supernatural power he discovered, besides his ability to analyze people's nature and intentions.

His powers seemed somehow related to his work as an idol and his past experiences.

In his previous life, he often had to pay attention to the emotions and intentions of the people around him.

Dirty manipulators, crazy fans, stalkers, corruption, and betrayal—he had experienced many unpleasant situations as a top idol.

He was strongly attuned to his emotions and adept at presenting the best persona for those who wanted to see his fake smile.

He lied with his voice, body, and face to millions of people. That's why he suspected that his powers were connected to his past life experiences.

But now, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

As he finished his thoughts, the door to the room opened.

An old and unsightly woman appeared, her hair white and her clothes in a poor state.

This was the grandmother of this body, usually called "Grandmama."

She was a problematic and clingy woman. She often told Wednesday stories to help her fall asleep and those stories always were followed with revolution, death, and heresy.

Tuesday's vision of her couldn't be worse, mainly after discovering his parents had relied on their education to that bitch.

Tuesday closed his eyes and pretended he was sleeping.

"Shing."

The sound of a sword could be heard in the background. 

Tuesday kept his eyes closed. 

He was used to it. 

His father often played with swords by his side, the same was true for his grandmother and uncle.

The most peaceful person in this house was his mother, who liked to play with carnivorous plants, poison, and spells that she called "liberal arts".

"Tak-"

Tuesday heard the sound of a sharp object right above his cradle.

He felt the tip of his fingers becoming cold as his anxiety raised.

'Throwing with swords?!'

Tuesday knew his family was full of mad bastards, but at least they protected him to some extent.

Even when his father played with swords while holding him, he perfectly controlled trajectory to avoid piercing his body.

But this old and senile woman wouldn't be so considerate.

Her aim was terrible.

"Tak- Tak- Tak-"

He trembled at each sound he heard above or beside his cradle.

'Just finish it already, please...'

He had prayed for all the gods he knew for the woman to just stop and go.

"..."

The sound of the swords suddenly stopped.

Tuesday started to feel an uncomfortable feeling in his body. He was having constant goosebumps.

He discretely opened his eyes and saw the old woman carefully holding a sword aiming for the target above his cradle.

Grandmama seemed to be trying to hit the target this time.

This vision made Tuesday's spirit fall to the bottom, fortunately, he noticed the swords around had been all thrown.

This should be the last time.

The woman moved her body with strength, aiming for the target.

Tuesday saw the sword slowing flowing to the air and the time seemed to have stopped.

His skin prickled with goosebumps. Images flashed through his mind like vivid memories.

A vision of a sword thrusting straight into his chest made him shudder.

When he considered moving to the right, a chilling image of a blade impaling his head surfaced.

Thinking of dodging left, he saw a sharp weapon slicing through his leg.

He was paralyzed, trapped in a web of unavoidable death.

Only one option remained.

'Turn back!'

His body moved with an unusual force, propelling him backward just as the cradle toppled to the ground. 

A sword pierced the air, embedding itself in the spot where his nose had been moments before.

Tuesday held his breath as time seemed to slow once again.

He had narrowly escaped death, but a new threat loomed.

A vision of a sword plunging into the center of his forehead filled his mind. Despair flared in his eyes—his life was still in grave danger.

As he hit the ground, he immediately rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding the sword aimed at his body.

The vision shifted, showing multiple swords raining down, striking the cradle and his body.

Each action made things worse. No matter which direction he chose, death seemed certain.

His mind raced, desperately seeking a new path.

Swallowing his fear, he rolled with all his strength.

The cradle crashed to the ground, shattered by a flurry of sharp swords. The once ominous black cradle was reduced to splinters.

It all happened in mere seconds.

Silence permeated the room.

Tuesday's body was in a rough state, the metallic scent of blood filling the air around him.

He hoped there would be no lasting scars.

Footsteps approached each one echoing ominously in the silence.

Eyes full of awe—not concern or fear—watched him, infuriating the pitiful Tuesday who had narrowly escaped death multiple times because of the old woman.

"Bitch" he muttered.

Six months had passed since he became a girl. His first words weren't "mom" or "dad."

They were a curse for the woman who had almost killed him, accidentally and without remorse.