The Grim Reaper finished speaking, raised his arm, and waved. The Greek Baklava in the vessel sprouted legs as if on their own and ran out. The instant they stepped free, they lost their original luster and sweet aroma, and even wrinkles cracked across their ashen surfaces.
Like Undead among foods, they leapt just like that into the palm of Herpo the Grim Reaper, scattering crumbs from some of the cakes as they jumped.
The Grim Reaper took a bite and chewed slowly, while the silver bowl with its intricate ancient Greek-style carvings was squeezed back into the table. When it emerged again, the bowl held something Allen found extremely familiar: little pocket cakes.
The snacks began hopping one by one inside the silver bowl's barrier, twisting cheerfully as they broke into a tap dance—Allen knew this scene all too well. It was obviously the personal habit his professor, Filius Flitwick, used when entertaining students from his house who visited his office.
Allen's heart sank. That meant Professor Flitwick's soul was not only in Herpo the Grim Reaper's hands, but would also be brought out and used by him before the battle even began. Thinking of the proposal the other party had just mentioned, Allen silently guessed that the Grim Reaper was very likely about to use the professor's soul as a bargaining chip.
"Mr. Herpo, I don't understand. What do you mean by this?" The knuckles of Allen's hand clenched around his staff stood out, and his flat, even tone sounded extremely cold. Right now, rage churned through his chest. He narrowed his eyes and made up his mind that, so long as it did not affect the greater matter, he still had to try his best to save Flitwick's soul.
"Mr. Harris, by now you and I should