When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost Chapter 9: Red Tail Bar

The Red Tail bar, being part of a hotel, was open during the day, making it easier to snoop around under the pretense of being a guest. However, there was one problem—Kant didn’t fit in with the posh crowd one bit.

His black parka that made him appear more like a brooding, forest-inhabiting man, than a wealthy individual coming for a casual drink.

Although Kant had plenty of money, he found no interest in brand clothing and flashiness. Even the car he was driving was an unsuspicious black sedan. And his manners were... similarly unpretentious.

Before they got out of the car, Kant directed, "Once we go inside, I’ll ignore you, so—"

"You always ignore when we’re out in public. No need to announce it," Gabriel grumbled, stepping out through the car door without opening it.

The ghost led him through the main hall and into the bar. He glanced back at Kant every few seconds, then finally said, "You stand out too much. Maybe take off your jacket?"

Kant raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"When in Ro, do as the Romans do," Gabriel threw a proverb at him.

With a sigh, Kant slipped off the parka and hung it over his forearm.

"You know, that black turtleneck suits you," the ghost complinted, walking backwards in front of him. "But why are all of your clothes black? You could wear so color during the day."

They entered an area with a sign in cursive that read "Red Tail Bar." The interior was elegant with velvety, maroon armrest chairs and dark wood tables. Stools were neatly lined up by the polished counter.

The daylight ca in through the tall, narrow windows, the blue hue contrasting the golden light coming from the upside-down wine glass-shaped lamps that hung over the counter.

"Sit here," Gabriel patted one of the maroon chairs.

The angle from there allowed Kant to oversee both the main area and the counter. He glanced at the ghost. Good thinking.

"Once soone approaches you, order a coffee," Gabriel instructed, idly trailing around. "Oh, you should try caffè mocha! It’s my favorite. They make it creamy here."

Kant wasn’t even surprised that Gabriel’s favorite coffee was sothing that was sugarcoated to the level there was barely any bitterness left.

Not even two minutes later, a waitress with a neat bun and perfectly ironed shirt and trousers ca up to his table. She wore a practiced custor service smile and moved with the grace of a well-paid employee.

"Good morning, sir. May I start you off with sothing to drink? We have a variety of coffees and other beverages available. If you need any recomndations, I’d be happy to assist."

Kant didn’t go with Gabriel’s recomndation. "Just an espresso, please."

"Coming right up," she said with a polite nod before leaving.

"Pleaaase," Gabriel dragged, teasing Kant. "So you do know how to say please, huh? Are you only nice to people you don’t know? But wait, you were rude to from the start! We didn’t know each other!"

Kant breathed a sigh, "Focus."

The ghost straightened. "Right, right. Focus." He took a thoughtful look around the bar. "For starters, the waitress you talked to wasn’t here that night."

"But that guy was," Gabriel pointed a finger at the barman approaching the counter in a very obvious way.

Kant hoped that he acted like that only in his ghost form, not when he was alive as well.

"This guy makes a bad martini," he noted, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "Then again, now that I know the drink was tampered with, it makes sense, doesn’t it?"

Gabriel walked back to Kant’s side. "Back then, I thought the barman was new because he looked kind of nervous, so I downed the drink without saying anything. Man, my people-pleasing killed !"

Kant studied the barman. Hair slicked back, his attire perfectly put-together and ironed. He didn’t seem new. His motions were practiced, he was familiar and aware of his surroundings. Perhaps a bit too aware—he sensed Kant’s eyes on him and looked in his direction.

Kant casually looked away, glancing at a tall plant by the window.

"He looks suspicious, doesn’t he?" Gabriel mused, tapping the table. "Do you think he was the one who slipped sothing into my drink?"

Kant couldn’t make an assumption like that based solely on a gut feeling. He tilted his head in a way that was neither a ’yes’ nor a ’no’.

The waitress returned with a steaming cup of espresso, the rich aroma wafting through the air. Before Kant could take a sip, the door to the bar creaked open.

Two n entered, dressed in dark clothes. They moved deliberately, each step heavy, and chose a table in a dim corner across the room.

Kant’s attention caught on them instinctively, like predator slling predator in a forest. One of the n leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The other wore a faint scar slashed across his chin—a mark Kant would never forget.

His heart beat harder, a dull thud echoing in his chest. mories stirred, old wounds reopened: the agony, the betrayal, the face of a friend lost. Luke’s pained expression, the disbelief in his eyes as his life was stolen too soon.

Kant’s fingers tightened around the handle of his espresso cup. His blood coursed through his veins with cold fury. The urge to drag the scarred man out by his collar and make him pay burned like a brand in his chest. Slice that asshole to sashimi and poke his head on a stake.

Gabriel’s voice jolted him back. "Why are you making that face?" the ghost asked, innocent curiosity breaking through the tension. He followed Kant’s gaze, eyes widening. "Do you know them?"

Kant clenched his fists so hard his knuckles ached, willing himself to stay in place. Now was not the ti for revenge. Too many witnesses, and the ghost still attached to him, complicating everything.

Later. After the ghost was gone, Kant would destroy that scarred bastard. Now he knew where to find him. After six years, he finally showed up. Next ti Kant would catch sight of him, he was dead.

Having received no answer, Gabriel got distracted as another man with a receding hairline walked into the bar.

"Uncle!" the ghost exclaid, but his excitent quickly turned to confusion as he watched Sam Everett shake hands with the two n before taking a seat by their table.