The Haunting Hour!

The old man guided him to a bustling area not far from the burned-out tavern. Several long tables had been pushed together, adorned with an assortment of dishes that filled the air with mouthwatering scents.

His stomach grumbled at the sight of the freshly prepared food. There were dishes of lamb, chicken, fruits, pork, and various other offerings spread out across the tables.

Around 40 or 50 people were gathered there, quietly enjoying their meal and engaging in hushed conversations.

It wasn't a jovial occasion, but rather a solemn gathering, a proof to the respect paid to the deceased.

"We usually get together like this when we lose someone from the community. But it was only one or two people... never quite like this one before," the old man said, a gentle smile on his face as he patted Azrael's arm and led him towards the gathering.

"Hey, Myla," the old man called out, catching the attention of a young woman who was busy serving drinks to the others. "Could you come over here for a sec?"

The young woman, Myla, rushed over with a big smile, her apron swishing as she hurried.

"Uncle, what do you need?" she asked, her gaze landing on Azrael. "A traveler?"

"Yeah," the old man replied. "And he's hungry. Can you grab him a plate?"

"Sure thing," Myla said, nodding enthusiastically. "Come join us, traveler. We're honoring the departed today."

Azrael nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness, though he kept it hidden behind a polite facade. He managed a small smile and thanked Myla, appreciative of her kindness during such a somber occasion.

"Sit here," the old man gestured towards the chair beside him. "Come on."

Azrael complied, nodding towards the old man in gratitude.

As Azrael settled into his seat, the gathering hummed with conversation and the clinking of utensils against plates. It wasn't overly loud, but there was a warmth and liveliness in the air. No one sat alone; it seemed like everyone was making sure of that. 

Myla returned with a plate piled high with meat, fruits, and vegetables. With a smile, she placed it in front of Azrael along with a fork and spoon, ensuring he was well taken care of amidst the gathering.

"Thank you," Azrael expressed his gratitude to Myla before picking up the spoon. He intended to eat with respect and decorum, but the enticing aroma enveloped him, tempting him to devour the meal in an instant.

His mouth watered as he gazed at the plate overflowing with honey-buttered chicken, roasted pork, fruits, and grilled lamb.

"Dig in however you like, son," the old man encouraged, noting Azrael's hungry gaze. "Forget about etiquette for now and just enjoy it."

Azrael grinned gratefully and picked up the fork, diving straight into the feast. He speared a juicy piece of lamb, its aroma making his mouth water even more. The tender meat practically melted on his tongue, leaving behind a savory taste that lingered delightfully.

Swallowing with satisfaction, he wasted no time before moving on to the honey-buttered chicken, eager to indulge in its succulent flavors.

"Isn't it good?" The old man chuckled, watching Azrael devour the food with gusto.

Azrael nodded, his smile widening as he savored another mouthful. Though he felt the curious gazes of others on him, his focus remained squarely on the delicious meal in front of him.

"The cook here is something else, I tell you," the old man continued, striking up a conversation. "The tavern used to serve the finest dishes, you know... We were fortunate that at least the cook made it through... to keep the legacy alive."

Azrael didn't notice the sudden quiet or the way people looked at him without much expression. He was too busy wolfing down his meal like there was no tomorrow.

Bite after bite, he devoured everything on his plate without a second thought, chewing and swallowing with gusto until there was nothing left.

When he finally pushed his empty plate away, a contented smile spread across his face. He felt satisfied, like he had just conquered a great hunger.

"Refill?" the old man offered Azrael with a smile, glancing around to see that the others were engrossed in their own conversations.

Azrael nodded in appreciation, and just as he did, Myla appeared with another plate piled high with a fresh array of dishes. This time, there were fruits, salads, and baked beef.

Azrael flashed Myla a thankful smile before eagerly digging into the new plate before him. His hunger drove him on, oblivious to the fact that everyone had once again paused to watch him eat.

"He looks like he hasn't eaten in days," the old man observed to Myla, who nodded sympathetically. Azrael paused his eating for a moment to wipe his mouth with a kerchief and gratefully accept the glass of juice Myla offered him.

"Thank you," Azrael expressed his gratitude to Myla, offering her a small smile in return.

"I'll bring you some more," she whispered softly before slipping away.

Myla returned with another plate, this time stacked high with sweet treats – fruit jellies, ice creams, and custards. Azrael's eyes lit up with appreciation as he took the plate, thanking her with a nod. He wasted no time in diving straight into the desserts, relishing each mouthful with obvious pleasure.

Before he could even make a dent in the sweets, Myla was back with more, replenishing the plate with an even greater variety of desserts.

Azrael couldn't help but grin at the sight of the overflowing plate, feeling both touched and amused by Myla's thoughtfulness. He happily continued to enjoy the treats, feeling grateful for the unexpected abundance of sweets.

For some reason, he wanted to eat more of these plates.

"Thank you," Azrael expressed his gratitude to Myla, feeling a sense of satisfaction but also realizing he had indulged a bit too much. "I'm stuffed."

"You're welcome," Myla replied with a warm smile as she cleared away the empty plate. Azrael let out a contented burp and dabbed his mouth with a kerchief, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him.

He sighed happily, feeling thoroughly satisfied after the hearty meal.

Azrael realized he had eaten way too much, and now his body felt like a lead weight. He struggled to lift himself properly, his muscles protesting with every movement. It was as if his whole nervous system was shutting down, leaving him feeling weak and drained.

His eyes started to droop, and just as he was about to drift off, he jolted awake again. Everyone in the room was staring at him, not moving a muscle. The suspicion he had been feeling before came rushing back, sending a chill down his spine.

"Are you full, Azrael?" the old man's voice cut through the heavy silence like a whisper from the shadows.

"Y-yeah," Azrael stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

But a chilling realization crawled up his spine like icy fingers. How did the old man know his name? Azrael hadn't mentioned it to anyone here.

Dread settled in his stomach like a stone as he struggled to make sense of the unsettling revelation.