Their new house was big.

Placed at the outskirts of the city and right next to a ruined church was where he had found it.

Even the “Keep out”, “We warned you” and “Housing bad spirits” signs had kept him away from the house that must have been a masterpiece of architecture year before years, but now was rather a sad sight to see.

Broken windows, cracked doors, muddy grimey floors.

Hakyeon had deemed it perfect, not a real graveyard or ruin, but better than nothing.

He was flopping down on a wet sofa, a squelching sound under his weight, when he heard other people enter the house.

Other people would have been fine, fine if it had only been two other people as planned, but to Hakyeon´s annoyance more than two appeared in the living room´s doorway.

Raking his eyes over every single one of them he stated their facts in his head.

Jung Taekwoon, a devil, Abigor, some kind of high ranking creature from the pits of hell, grew up in Europe, about 3000 years old but stopped aging at what Hakyeon assumes is 23, friend and partner for over 1000 years now. They had made contact when the other had stumbled upon the café Hakyeon used to have in the underground scene of, back then, ed up London, emptying his whole fridge while Hakyeon had been busy closing the front door. He had whooped the other over the head with a frying pan, making the pan dent horribly and the other choke on a piece of bread, bloody read jam smudged around his mouth.

Tipping his head to the right, his pitch black hair falling in his eyes, he crooked his lips into a grin.

Next to Taekwoon was Jaehwan.

Puffy brown hair covered by the hood of his black cloak, Jaehwan looked immensely less impressive than Taekwoon. Oh how Hakyeon loved when people underestimated Jaehwan. He was a bad omen, a celtic spirit whose mere appearance at your door step could mean your sudden death. A friend of Hakyeon, whom he had gotten to know after a rough bar fight back then in 1870´s Dublin and one too many beers.  

Those had been good times, rough, but good.

Three more people were standing behind them and if Hakyeon had not known better, he would have judged them as measly humans, if there had not been that smell.

That smell of rotting human behaviour, crooked morals and as he noticed with a twitch of his eyebrow, blood and grime, but maybe that was just Jaehwan´s cloak, none of them knew when he had washed it the last time.

“Taekwoon.”

Head tipping up quickly, Taekwoon was fixing his eyes to Hakyeon´s  which were glowing a mix of pitch black and aggressive, acid yellow.

“I send you to pick up Jaehwan and you bring me what?”

Sitting up straight and crossing his legs over each other, Hakyeon lets his eyes wander over the devil.

“I told them they could come.” Jaehwan chirpes in.

How any omen of death could be so cheerful and that at such an unearthly time in the morning, Hakyeon had never figured out.

“You told them they could come?”

Black lines were forming on Hakyeon´s tanned skin, thin and seemingly see-through.

“Well actually, they forced us to let them come and then  Jaehwan offered and…”

Taekwoon was mumbling more than actually pronouncing words and in this moment Hakyeon really doubted his life choices.

A deathly omen that was annoyingly happy and a raging devil from hell that was too socially scared for his life to speak out loud and both of them had been forced by three mere strangers to let them come along on their way to the new home Hakyeon had found for them.

Classical.

That´s how life went for other immortals maybe, but not for Hakyeon who had the reigns in his hold.

“Jaehwan, you think you bring some, whatever they are, here because of which reasons?” Hakyeon drawled out, fixin