When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost Chapter 8: Following Ghost’s Whims

"Perhaps you could dress in red robes and dance around a bonfire, chanting prayers all night. See if that makes your wish co true," Jones gestured with his hand sarcastically.

"Real funny."

"Glad I could entertain." Jones humd a random tune as he moved on with the cleaning.

Kant’s gaze flicked to the ghost yawning beside him, then back to the table.

Realistically, such a thing as paranormal wishes coming true should have either never been possible in the first place. Or, at the very least, they should have had so serious rituals or even sacrifices to be made.

Although... Kant looked back to Gabriel sitting on a nearby stool, swaying left and right like a bored seaweed. Technically, they did make a sacrifice. This guy’s life. Did it an that the cost of two wishes coming true was one life?

But it was absurd. Kant hadn’t consciously wished to see Luke’s soul for months. So why would it co true now, out of all tis? And with the wrong soul?

Gabriel huffed, impatiently rattling the stool he was sitting on. "Can we go now? Jones isn’t telling you anything useful. Just google it later."

Kant kicked the stool to stop it from shaking, and Jones glanced back at the clatter.

"What are you throwing a tantrum for?" Jones chided. "Go ho if you’re not gonna help. And look over the deal. I need an answer in two days."

"Yeah, yeah," Kant murmured, standing up.

"Also get so proper rest before you go mad and rekindle your belief in Santa Claus," Jones comnted, waving at him with the cleaning cloth on the way out.

Kant walked out, grumbling, "I never believed in Santa to start with."

The ghost tagged along behind him, " neither. If Santa was real, he’d go bankrupt after one year of purchasing millions of gifts."

"I think the part about flying reindeer pulling a sleigh that weighs tons was more unrealistic."

Gabriel chuckled as they made their way towards the car, parked by the side of the road. Once Kant buckled in and started the car, the ghost turned to him in all seriousness.

"Hey, Kant, can we go to the Red Tail bar and check the surveillance caras? To find out who tampered with my drink?"

"Is that why you were so eager to leave?" Kant shot a question back.

"Well, partly," Gabriel mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "I want to know who did it... But I also thought—what if I possess my body to et my uncle like that? He frequents the bar."

Kant leaned back in his seat. "And then what? What will you do after you et your uncle? You think he’ll let you leave?"

Knowing his uncle wanted Gabriel dead, nothing good could co out of such a eting.

The ghost mused, "Well, I can tell him that I’ve developed an illness that makes my heart temporarily stop... If I put on so makeup, like blush, I could pass as a living person. So could you buy so makeup for ?"

Kant couldn’t help but scoff at this half-baked idea. "Your body will eventually deteriorate and start to reek. Then what? Will you say you forgot to use deodorant?"

"Fine, putting the part about possessing my body thing aside, can we just go to the bar for now?" Gabriel insisted.

"Later. I have to go ho and read the file," Kant set his foot down, pulling out of the parking spot.

The ghost pressed, "Now? There’s still ti. You can read it tomorrow, no?"

"I have to research the target before making a decision. I won’t make the sa mistake again," Kant said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Gabriel shifted in the passenger seat restlessly. "Then can you just reject that deal? You don’t even have the ti for that right now. And for how long will you live to kill anyway?"

Kant let out a long sigh, watching the ghost from the corner of his eye. "Is finding out who tampered with your drink that important to you?"

Gabriel nodded, keeping up with his big sad eyes look.

"Fine." Kant gave in and turned the car around. "We’ll go to the bar, take a quick look around, then go ho. Does that work for you?"

"And don’t forget to stop by a beauty shop on the way," the ghost comnted, back to his chipper deanor after getting his way.

Kant sent him a denying look. "I’m not buying you makeup. And you’re not going to see your uncle while you’re dead. That’s final."

"What ’final’? You’re not the boss of ," Gabriel retorted, bristling up.

"I’m the one who’s alive, so I’m in charge," Kant announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

The ghost shook his head. "But I’m the owner of the body, so I should have a say in this."

"No. Everyone knows you’re dead by now. If you walk around freely, people will think a zombie apocalypse has started. Worst case, you end up in a lab."