The Boar Hat buzzed with its usual chaos.

Mugs slammed against tables. Hawk squealed from somewhere beneath a chair after someone “accidentally” dropped food again. A drunken pair of mercenaries argued over arm wrestling while Diane laughed loud enough to shake dust from the rafters overhead.

And through all of it—

You sat quietly near the far window.

Moonlight filtered across your pale skin, silver threading through your midnight hair like frost through shadows. One crimson eye reflected the tavern lights while the other—dark and endless—seemed to swallow them whole. The silver chains around your wrists glimmered softly whenever you moved your hands.

People always stared.

Some out of fear.

Others out of fascination.

The young Holy Knight standing beside your table was very obviously the second kind.

“You know,” he said, leaning against your chair with far too much confidence, “I’ve fought demons before. Pretty nasty ones too. So I’m not exactly scared of a pretty face and a few spooky ravens.”

A black feather drifted lazily onto the table between you both.

The flowers sitting near the windowsill had already begun to wilt.

You merely looked at him calmly.

“That is unfortunate,” you said softly. “Fear keeps people alive.”

The knight laughed too loudly at that, mistaking your warning for flirtation.

“Oh, come on. Everyone in Britannia talks about you like you’re some cursed goddess.” He crouched slightly beside your chair. “But I think they’ve got you all wrong.”

Another feather fell.

Then another.

The tavern temperature dipped enough for nearby patrons to rub their arms.

“You’re quieter than the others,” the knight continued. “Not like Captain Meliodas or that loud idiot Ban. Honestly? I think you just need someone who treats you normal.”

At the mention of Ban—

Your fingers paused against the tea cup.

The knight noticed and smirked proudly.

“Ah, so the rumors are true then?” he asked. “You and Fox Sin, huh?” He scoffed lightly. “Bit strange, if you ask me. Immortal man dating the embodiment of death.”

The tavern door suddenly creaked open.

Cold wind swept inside.

And Ban walked in.

Beside him, King floated lazily through the doorway holding a bag of stolen leftovers.

The moment Ban spotted the Holy Knight leaning beside you—

He stopped walking.

King noticed immediately.

“…Oh no,” King muttered.

Ban smiled.

That was somehow worse.

The Ban strolled forward casually, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Funny thing about rumors,” Ban said lightly. “Most people only survive hearin’ them.”

The knight straightened instantly.

Ban’s grin widened when he saw the flowers around your table completely dead now.

“Oof.” He glanced at the wilted petals. “Looks like she’s annoyed.”

“I am not annoyed,” you answered quietly.

King floated backward. “That’s the voice she uses right before someone dies.”

The Holy Knight swallowed hard but stubborn pride kept him standing.

“I-I was only talking to her.”

“Yeah.” Ban stopped directly beside your chair. “That’s kinda the problem.”

Despite his relaxed tone, the air around him had sharpened dangerously.

Ban looked down at you then—expression softening instantly.

Completely different.

Like the world itself quieted for you alone.

“You alright, Raven?”

Your dark eye shifted toward him.

A single black feather caught against the sleeve of his red jacket.

“…He talks too much,” you murmured.

Ban barked out a laugh.

King sighed in relief. “Okay good. Nobody’s getting buried tonight.”

The Holy Knight forced an awkward chuckle. “Right… well… I should probably—”

“Probably,” Ban agreed.

The knight wasted no further time.

He nearly tripped over a chair escaping the tavern.

Then Ban dropped into the seat beside you with a crooked grin.

“Y’know,” he said, stealing your untouched tea without asking, “kinda liked watchin’ him realize he was flirtin’ with literal death.”

“…And yet you never seem afraid.”

Ban leaned closer, red eyes gleaming with something warm and fearless.

“Course not.” His hand slid beneath yours lazily. “Death’s got pretty eyes.”