When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 40: A Trap

Chapter 40: A Trap

It didn’t take long for Kant to get across the city. Snowflakes swirled lazily in the evening air, dusting the windshield with a light layer that glistened under the streetlights.

Gabriel lived in an upscale neighborhood—not the top tier of luxury, but close enough. As the tall, modern apartment complex loomed ahead, Kant’s focus sharpened.

He parked around the corner, far enough from the entrance to remain unnoticed. Just in case.

Approaching the building with purposeful strides, he glanced around the empty streets. No one was out.

Kant passed the front desk without a word. The security guard didn’t even look up, peering at something on his computer. Kant’s brow furrowed. If the guard wasn’t paying attention, then what was stopping someone else from slipping by unnoticed?

The elevator ride was quiet. Too quiet. Kant’s mind ran over all the possibilities of who was lurking around Gabriel. Was it a stalker? A journalist with no boundaries? Worst case—another hitman? He grimaced at the thought, squeezing his pocket where his karambit was.

The doors slid open with a faint ding, and Kant stepped out onto the ninth floor.

The hallway stretched out before him, softly lit but eerily empty. The tension in his shoulders tightened as he approached Gabriel’s apartment.

His steps slowed when he saw the door.

It was ajar.

Kant’s heartbeat quickened. Was someone inside?

He reached for the handle, nudging the door open slowly. The darkened interior of the apartment greeted him like a yawning void.

With a stealthy move, he pulled the blade from its sheath and stepped inside. There was a scent of something sweet lingering in the air—strange, out of place.

His boots thudded heavily on the wooden floors, so he kicked them off near the door before proceeding. The coolness of the floor pressed against his feet as he moved forward.

From deeper inside the apartment, there was a faint clinking sound. His body tensed, ready for anything.

No footsteps. No voices.

The shadows seemed to shift in the dimly lit apartment as he rounded the corner, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

But when the living room came into view, he stopped, a confused frown crossing his face.

The room was bathed in soft, warm lighting from carefully placed lamps. A large sectional couch was draped with blankets, a movie paused on the screen.

Two mugs of something steaming sat on the low coffee table. The smell of hot chocolate smothered him.

Kant’s eyes fell on Gabriel, who looked up from the couch, surprised.

"Oh, hey, I—"

Kant shot him a sharp glance and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. Gabriel’s mouth snapped shut, his wide eyes following every move as Kant’s gaze swept the room.

Gabriel sat up straighter as he watched Kant move silently from room to room with swift and methodical movements.

Guilt gnawed at him. He hadn’t thought Kant would treat it like a life-or-death situation.

Being followed or having someone hovering outside his apartment occasionally by a nosy journalist or some weirdo wasn’t anything unusual to Gabriel. But he had failed to consider it had an entirely different meaning to a hitman.

Gabriel swallowed, feeling guilt grip him each time Kant carefully checked a door, or paused by a corner to ensure no one was hiding.

This was... not what he had planned. All he wanted was some company and a light-hearted evening.

When Kant slipped back into the living room, Gabriel finally dared to approach him, his voice soft and hesitant.

"Hey, um, listen..." He paused, noticing the karambit in Kant’s hand. He carefully poked the tip of it. It was sharp. Really sharp. "H-How about you put that away first?"

"Wait here. Your door was unlocked," Kant whispered as he sheathed the karambit with a soft click and walked back towards the front door.

Little did Kant know that Gabriel had left the door open as a hint—or rather, an invitation. Something like "see the open door? Come on in!" at which point Kant was supposed to understand it was a trick and come in grumbling. Instead, he was going ninja mode with no danger in sight.

Gabriel bit his lip as he stared at Kant crouched by the door, carefully inspecting the lock below the keypad.

How could Gabriel even explain himself? He had thought he was being clever, but now he felt stupid.

"It’s uh..." Gabriel tried to say it was a false alarm, but the words got stuck in his throat.

After what felt like hours, Kant stood up, satisfied that the lock hadn’t been tampered with. But then he slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing.

That was it. Gabriel had been busted. He inhaled sharply, about to apologize, but Kant spoke first, and fast.

"Didn’t I tell you to stay inside? Just because the suspicious guy left, doesn’t mean you should poke your head out to check. Not only that, but you didn’t even close the door properly!"

Gabriel fidgeted awkwardly. "So, about that..."

"How long did he stand behind your door? What was he wearing? Was he armed?" Kant kept probing.

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. "There... wasn’t anyone." He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him. "At least not today."

Kant’s face dropped, trying to process the revelation. "What?"

"I thought you wouldn’t come over otherwise," Gabriel blurted out, the excuse sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

A scoff slipped from Kant. "Gabriel, what the—" He shook his head, searching for nicer words. "So you didn’t actually need my help?"

Gabriel glanced down, ashamed, the corners of his mouth twitching in an embarrassed frown. "No, I did, it’s just... not with anything dangerous."

"What is it, then?"

Gabriel hesitated, his words barely audible as he mumbled, "I made too much hot chocolate and need your help finishing it."

Kant stood there, lost for words. His brain seemed to buffer, like the world’s first computer trying to process a modern game.

"Hot chocolate?" he echoed, baffled.

Gabriel gestured nervously, the warmth of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. "And movies..."

"Seriously?"

Gabriel gave a guilty nod, his gaze drifting down to his slippers as he shifted his weight on the hallway tiles.