At the center of the ceiling, white candles were fixed in the shape of a seven-pointed star. Their flames pointed downward, hanging from slender wicks like golden lantern berries.
As the candles warmed, translucent drops of wax melted and rolled down the wicks into the flames with faint hisses, casting a soft glow.
Several green vines reached out with thin tendrils that curled like claws around the white candles. Tender leaves spread their arms, greedily drinking in the heat radiating from the flames and leaving mottled shadows in the gentle candlelight below.
Around the oval conference table, the seven members of the Seven Deadly Sins stared silently at the potted vine in its center. No one spoke. Apart from Beelzebub's munching, the room was silent.
Friedman could not even hear anyone else breathing.
Vampires had extraordinarily sharp senses, yet in this room, beneath those robes and masks, the gift he had always prided himself on seemed as dim as the candlelight.
A flame flickered.
The leaf shadows on the table rippled like little boats, and the room's stifling mood eased with them. Before the wavering flames had fully steadied, a figure appeared soundlessly beside the vine amid the shifting shadows.
The Sin Eater of the Seven Deadly Sins.
An old fossil who never keeps his word and clings to his position.
The long-lived man behind the Bat Mask grumbled inwardly as he looked at the Sin Eater's White Mask, smooth as an egg.
"Good evening, little ones!"
The faceless man sat cross-legged in the middle of the conference table and raised a hand in greeting, his voice bright with cheer. "So sorry. I took a little nap this evening and nearly forgot about the meeting... Then, on my way here, I saw a big black dog blocking the road, with