The people around were as modest, their heads bowed over plates and their hands clasped together in silent prayer. The only sound was the soft clink of cutlery against plates and the occasional murmured word.
"Can I take that?" the ghost pointed at Ein's cookie. "You don't like sweets, right?"
Ein glanced at Adriel from the corner of his eye. Before he could nod, the little girl sitting next to him let out a whine of disgust.
One of her tiny fists was holding onto her mother while the other was gripping the cup of juice.
"Mama, I don't want to drink it…" her small voice protested.
"You have to finish your food. Not a drop gets wasted. Those are the rules," the mother flatly responded, looking straight at the mural of the bandaged man on the wall. Her skin was pale as chalk, and her eyes sunken, as though grief had stretched her face.
"That's a strange rule to have," Adriel murmured, watching the little girl turn to Ein with big, dissatisfied eyes.
"Mister..."
The pleading look on the small, round face was almost puppy-like, yet incredibly insistent. Hard to ignore, and even harder to refuse.
Ein sighed, glancing at the little girl's cup. "What, do you want me to drink it?"
The girl nodded, pushing her cup towards Ein. Then, seemingly getting the brightest idea of her life, she pointed at his cookie, "We can trade. My juice for your cookie."
"Hey, that's not how this works!" Adriel interjected.
But Ein accepted the exchange and handed her the treat. "Sure."
Adriel watched miserably as the little girl's grabby hands seized the cookie. "Aw, come on. Since when were you nice to strangers?" he whined, crossing his arms.
"It's just a kid," Ein whispered between sips.
The ghost bitterly accepted defeat and settled down, turning his attention elsewhere.
Dean sat on the opposite side of the dining hall, habitually close to the exit. Ein could see him grimacing at the juice, leaving the glass full with no intentions to touch it.
As the area began emptying, the cult members eagerly moved to wait by the rosewood doors for the prayer. Dean got up before Ein, but was stopped by one of the staff, who insisted he must drink all juice before handing in his tray.
Adriel clearly found watching a hitman argue with the lunch lady lady over a glass of juice comical enough to move closer for a better view.
"Pfft, look at him. Why's he acting like a princess? The juice won't kill him."
Ein unhurriedly took the last bite and rose from his seat to carry his empty dishes back. He passed the bitter-faced Dean, returned his tray, and was about to leave, but his conscience stopped him.
"I'm telling you, those are the rules! Finish it or I'm not letting you leave!" the lady pushed Dean's tray back again.
"What is this place, a kindergarten?" Dean retorted, growing annoyed. "If you care so much, drink it yourself."
Since the days they lived together in the organization, Ein knew Dean was allergic to cranberries. But the guy never flaunted it in case someone would take advantage of it.
Ein sighed. If Dean were forced to drink the juice, he'd be itching all night. Worst case, his throat would swell and he'd suffocate.
For the sake of his own peace, Ein turned around, took Dean's cup, downed the juice, then set it back on the tray.
"There. Done," Ein muttered, leaving the dining hall.
The lunch lady grumbled under her breath, throwing Ein a nasty side-eye. "Rules must be followed for a reason. If you break them, consequences will be yours to bear."
Meanwhile, Dean studied Ein suspiciously on the way to the Main Prayer, wondering what he was playing at.
Adriel let out a chuckle. "Two good deeds in one day? Ein, is the cult's atmosphere having an effect on you? Or have you decided to actually cooperate with Dean?"
Ein didn't respond. He continued walking towards the prayer area, his gaze fixed straight. Being around so many people was starting to make him feel drowsy.
As they walked into the prayer hall, the sounds of murmurs and soft voices hugged them from all sides. The room was dimly lit, and the scent of candle wax and incense deleted everyone's personal smells.
A voice of admiration made its way to Ein's ears. "We finally get see our Leader again. This moment is the highlight of every week!"
"I didn't sleep a wink last night," another member marveled, turning to Ein with hazy eyes. "Prepare yourself. It will change your life! You'll never be the same again!"
"Um, they don't look very sane," Adriel murmured, switching to Ein's other side, further away from the cult members.
Ein moved past the eager crowd, focusing on finding an empty seat in the back row that gave him a good view of the stage. Dean, surprisingly, took a seat right next to him.
"Drinking that juice wasn't a friendship invite," Ein remarked dryly.
Dean crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat with a nonchalant look. "I can sit wherever I want."
Ein shrugged, leaning back against the chair as well. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. Was it getting warmer? Or was he such a spawn of the devil that just being in a place that resembled a church set him on fire?
A few minutes later, the worship began. The lights faded, leaving the stage and the sculpture illuminated. Soft music played in the background, a calm and serene tune that echoed through the hall.
As Victor Hale stepped on the stage, a brief wave of murmurs of gratitude and excitement washed over the hall, but quieting down when the cult leader raised his hand in greeting.
His white hair glistened in the lights and his white robes flowed around his legs in an angelic way.
"My dear children, I welcome you to this beautiful evening."
The room was silent, all eyes on the stage, all breaths held. Victor Hale looked from one row to the next, as if blessing the souls of those present with his kind gaze.
"You have all come here to seek truth, guidance, and salvation. You have all heeded the call to shed the weight of your burdens to earn the favor of bringing back those that are dear to you."
"Today is a special day," he said, gesturing grandly at Ein and Dean at the last row, the spotlight falling on them, "For today we have two more souls who have joined our family."
Ein's eyes winced, the light was blinding. Such dizzying brightness. What were they using for lights here? Strongest LEDs in the world? Whatever it was, it was strong enough to dull his senses.
"Mind you, there are three new souls," Adriel corrected him, standing behind Ein's back. "Are you discriminating against ghosts?"
Despite himself, Ein let out a huff of laughter at the ghost's comment. Discriminating against ghosts? So funny.
Once the spotlight moved back to the stage, Dean sent him a sharp look. "The hell are you laughing at?"
Adriel, on the other hand, was watching the scene curiously, throwing out more jokes. "Should I go sit on the stage behind the preacher and make funny faces? Maybe someone else will see me and freak out."
Ein put a hand over his mouth, muffling a snort at the thought. What a circus that would be.
The ghost blinked, thrown off by Ein's amusement. "You're laughing? That wasn't even my best material..."
Ein waved his hand for Adriel to stop as he slumped down further in his seat, trying to hide his inadequate reactions. This ghost was going to make him blow his cover.
Adriel leaned closer, squinting in the dim hall. "Ein, are you good?"
Ein shook his head as he attempted to regain control of his facial expressions, focusing on the stage instead.
"...Lazarus was a friend of Jesus," fragments of Victor Hale's speech made it to Ein. "He was resurrected from death by Him. A miracle, a gift granted to a select few, a privilege that few have earned. But we can all earn this privilege, too..."
The lights on the stage spun, turning the room into a kaleidoscope of shadow and color. Ein blinked, once, twice, but the fog in his mind didn't clear.
"...trust that our faith will bring the dead back to us, in flesh and spirit. The miracle is within reach for those who prove worthy..."
Others let out exclaims of awe, staring up at Victor Hale with the same look of wonder. Ein too, couldn't help but get mesmerized by the prayer. It felt almost dreamlike, out of this world. Nothing like he had seen before.
"...and you, my children, are the blessed ones chosen by His will..."
They started chanting "we are blessed, we are blessed," and he joined in, for reasons unknown to himself.
Dean's gaze lingered on Ein, his expression hardening as the chanting started. "Hey, look here for a sec."
Next, there was a hand on his shoulder, firm and persistent.
Turning to the side slightly, he found Dean's sharp, stern eyes boring into him.