Pray for the Wicked | ATEEZ

47.

My hand had barely left the aged wooden door nor had my feet crossed the threshold of the pub before I was greeted by a rush of noise, music, and the inimitable smell of hops, malts, and spirits.

The room was hot, cramped, and a faint whisper of sweat accompanied every hesitant breath I swallowed as I left behind the chill evening air and stepped inside, the slam of the door barely audible over the buzz of conversation and song as Hongjoong joined my side.

All around me were rusty brick-clad walls complemented by dark whispers of wood from the bar at the very end of the pub and the wall of barrels behind it. The countertop was brimming with bottles in every hue of the rainbow allowing onlookers a faint look at the dizzying contents inside. Leather chairs and tables were scattered about the wooden floors which were smooth and aged from years of wear.

The jugs and mugs that had been released from their skilfully polished displays and neat rows along the shelves stood randomly spread across sticky tabletops where they now resided in warm hands, filled to the brim with draught beer or cider. The sweet smell of the drinks danced through the air in alluring wisps of intoxication as people moved and brought them to their lips.

Even as the son of Lilith took my hand and led me through the drunken crowd, my eyes stayed glued to the corner where a modest group of musicians sat on crooked stools and fiddled with a variety of tired instruments, laughing at comments and slurred opinions from the people seated nearby.

I turned as he gently tightened his grip on my hand only to be met with the familiar sight of the heirs to the Court of Deadly Sins huddled together around one of the bigger tables. They had chosen a quiet corner bathed in an amber glow from the crooked bundle of candles between them, allowing shadows to dance across contended faces.

San's eyes glowed a curious gold as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him, effectively ripping Hongjoong and me apart as I fell onto the bench between him and Wooyoung, leaving the son of Lilith with empty hands and eyes as he hesitated for a moment, flusteredly looking at the two ravenettes.

"Well, don't just stand there," Jongho sighed, patting the spot beside him and forcing the elder to sit as a plump barmaid sauntered over with two heavy trays brimming with mugs that splashed and spilled as she moved, allowing a gentle rain of beer to join the already stained tabletop.

Yunho quickly helped distribute the drinks, offering me one of the hefty jugs with an expectant look in his eyes. I took it, examining the golden liquid in the brassy depths before letting my gaze meet his once more, watching the look intensify as an unmistakable smile played at his lips. I took a sip, albeit hesitantly, the taste lingering in my throat like a faint whisper of the burn it had left in its wake. He smirked.

"Don't expect us to go easy on you," Mingi said.

"I'm sorry, what-?" I frowned, pausing as a die rolled across the tabletop, its midnight black surface decorated with delicate, golden numbers.

"Here's how it's gonna go," he continued, brushing off my confusion as he offered the others a knowing look. Turning back to me, he said, "The die has ten sides, ten numbers. We go in order of ranks partly because it's less confusing, partly because it never hurts to humble Hongjoong a little." The son of Lilith barely had the chance to object before the storm of words leaving Mingi's lips continued once more.

"With that said, Seonghwa is number one because his father, Lucifer, is the first prince of Hell. From there on, the numbers are Jongho, San, me, Yunho, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Hongjoong. if it lands on a nine, we all drink, and if someone throws a ten, it's your turn."

I found myself nodding, mostly to please him, but as I made another failed attempt to voice my confusion, he once again stole the chance to speak from me.