When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost Chapter 3: Do You Recycle?

The sound of the rain and the taps of his steps on the wet asphalt led the way back.

As they entered the apartnt, Gabriel kicked his shoes off and fell onto the sofa, stretching his ghostly muscles with a groan.

Kant passed him, setting the briefcase on the table. He opened it and took out a yellow box he had tucked in on the side.

The ghost sprang up at the warm sll. "Chicken? You actually brought back a box for !" It looked like he was about to cry from joy.

"You asked," Kant noted casually, opening the box. That was the least he could do.

The steam from the fried chicken was like a gift of life, wrapping around Gabriel, who circled the table enthusiastically. But he stopped before picking a piece. "What’s the ti?"

Kant checked his phone. "Eleven fifty-four. Why?"

Gabriel leaned over the box, staring at the golden skin. "I’ll wait until it’s midnight so I can pretend it’s my birthday gift."

"Suit yourself." Kant scoffed softly, pulling out a chair. He sat down, watching the ghost shift his weight from one foot to another.

The only sounds were the rain hitting the tal ledges, and the distant voices coming through the open window.

It was strange. He had never found silence to be uncomfortable. Was it the guilt of taking the deal on Gabriel’s life gnawing at him?

"You said you were going to et your uncle to figure out sothing. What was that about?" Kant asked, then imdiately kicked himself in the head.

He had always made it a point not to get involved in others’ private business. Especially his targets’ lives. But perhaps since Gabriel was dead, it could be considered a loophole.

"It’s a long story," Gabriel waved his hand distractedly, yet continued talking, "I was going to step back from family business. Now that my father’s health was declining, I was supposed to take his place soon. But..."

The ghost sighed longingly, casting a quick glance at Kant. "But it just felt suffocating, you know?"

Kant gave a slow nod. Although he didn’t know Gabriel’s situation, the feeling of suffocation was an old friend for him. "What dreams did you have?"

Gabriel looked up at him, his brows raised in surprise. "You seriously want to know?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

The ghost humd, his gaze settling on one spot as he seed to get lost in thought. "Dreams..." he repeated.

Kant waited as Gabriel assembled an answer.

"To be honest, I don’t know... I was trying to find sothing I truly cared for in this world... But in the end it felt like the world would only judge ."

Giving a small shrug, Kant said, "Life ain’t a pot of honey."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone says that." Gabriel pushed the box of chicken around absentmindedly. "But does it have to be like that? Can’t people think of others before opening their mouths? Why’s there so little empathy?"

"Empathy?" Kant leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "It’s like recycling—so people do it, so don’t. So throw a glass bottle in the plastic bin and call it a day."

Gabriel leaned over the table with a dramatic sigh, stretching his body along the surface. "And what type of person are you? Do you recycle?"

"Not human emotions."

The deadpan answer prompted Gabriel to let out a snort that blew into a full-on laugh that echoed through the room. He slapped the table before rembering about the chicken.

"Oh! What’s the ti now?"

Kant tapped his phone screen. "Past midnight."

"Nice!" Gabriel straightened, picking out a piece of chicken with a wide grin.

Kant watched the ghost sink his teeth into the at with a crisp crunch, thinking.

So far, Gabriel’s reputation had proven to be far from reality. He was barely hedonistic—if getting excited over chicken could even count as hedonistic. Then again, Kant didn’t know him well. People were different in life and death.

"Mmm." Gabriel licked his fingers and smacked his lips as he reached for another piece. "I know I’m dead, but this is the best thing I’ve eaten in my whole life."

"Puts you in high spirits, huh?" Kant remarked dryly.

Gabriel let out a cackle, pointing at him with a chicken wing. "Ha! I like that! You got more jokes?"

"Knock, knock."

"Ah, no, no. I’m not falling for that. You’ll probably just slam the door in my face again," the ghost pointed out, his eyes curving in amusent.

Kant watched him, reflecting on the earlier conversation about life and empathy. Perhaps killing the heir wasn’t right.

But it was done.

Kant sank his teeth into his lip, thinking. He should have done proper research before accepting the hit. No matter Gabriel’s connection to Everett Holdings, he shouldn’t have made a rash decision.

But there was no way to turn back ti. The least Kant could do now was fulfill the ghost’s wishes to help him move on to the afterlife.

He got up and grabbed his jacket off the chair, turning to Gabriel. "Let’s steal your body."