When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 47: Evil Spirit’s Face

Chapter 47: Evil Spirit’s Face

Moments later, the waiter reappeared. "Are you gentlemen ready to order, or would you like a few more moments?"

Sam glanced up from his menu. After receiving a small nod from Gabriel, he turned to the waiter. "We’re ready. I’ll have the salmon tartare to start and the filet mignon for the main course, medium rare." He set the menu down with finality.

Gabriel followed suit, his smile reappearing as he regarded the waiter. "I’ll have the tomato basil soup to start and the ribeye for the main course."

"Would you like any drinks?" the waiter asked, pen poised.

"I’ll have a glass of your finest Pinot Noir," Sam said.

"Just water for me," Gabriel added, casting a slightly disapproving glance at Sam over the wine order. He used to caution his uncle against drinking, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

As the waiter retreated, Gabriel leaned back in his chair, fidgeting with the napkin. Kant sighed. The heir was so easy to read. Like prey on a silver platter for manipulative people.

As he thought that, Gabriel’s smile froze, as if he had heard Kant’s inner monologue.

Kant was about to start questioning whether they had accidentally developed some sort of a telepathic connection, but then he noticed Gabriel’s gaze drifting over Sam’s shoulder to the empty air.

A cool breeze passed by, washing a sense of premonition over Kant. It felt similar to the air conditioning being switched on, or a window opening nearby.

"So, uncle, why don’t you tell me more about your trip? How was Sicily?" Gabriel inquired, keeping his smile pinned to his lips while his eyes kept bouncing over Sam’s shoulder whenever he wasn’t looking.

An icy prickle ran down his spine as he stared at the dense shadow standing behind Sam, muttering something. The evil spirit had returned. Except, this time, it had a face.

"Ah, Sicily," Sam began, going off on a tangent. "The vineyards, the history... There’s a distinct tranquility there, the kind of peace you rarely find elsewhere."

Kant furrowed his brow, trying to understand why Gabriel looked like he was sitting on the edge of a knife.

The waiter returned, balancing a tray of elegantly plated dishes. He set down the salmon tartare with a flourish and then turned to Gabriel, ready to serve his meal. "And for you, sir, the tomato basil soup—"

Gabriel feigned a sudden movement, purposefully hitting the bowl, splashing some of the red soup into his own lap.

"Oh, how clumsy of me," Gabriel laughed, getting up. "Just my luck!" He looked up at the waiter, who stood frozen in shock.

Sam watched the spectacle, a mildly disgusted frown crossing his face. "Gabriel, what on earth...?"

"Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Must be the bullet in my head," Gabriel rambled, wiping at the mess on his pants with exaggerated frustration. "I think I should—uh—freshen up. I’ll be right back." He went straight for the restroom, leaving a stunned waiter and a bewildered Sam behind.

Kant followed Gabriel, just as confused, wondering what he was up to this time.

As they entered the restroom, Gabriel leaned against the cool tile wall. "Man, I feel bad for the waiter, but his expression was priceless!" He laughed, but the sound was strained with nerves.

Kant checked the stalls for any eavesdroppers before speaking. "Why did you do that? And what was up with those strange looks back there?"

Gabriel paused, his laughter fading. "You didn’t see it?" He opened the door a crack, his hand resting on Kant’s arm as he pointed. "Look, he’s right there."

The shadow was back. And within it, Victor Hale’s face loomed. He stood behind Sam with a hateful glare, white robes fluttering like ghosts.

"The hell?" Kant blurted out, and Gabriel shoved the door shut, slapping a hand over Kant’s mouth.

"Don’t yell," Gabriel hissed.

Kant stared at him from up close, and apparently, it flustered Gabriel, because he removed his hand and jumped back.

"I didn’t think this would happen. Do you think I accidentally summoned him? Why’s he haunting me?" Gabriel’s voice wavered slightly, eyes darting back to the door.

"To make sure you don’t waste your second chance at life," Kant joked despite himself.

A pointed look was sent his way, followed by sarcasm. "Ha, ha. Very funny. I’m laughing my pants off."

"Are you sure he’s haunting you specifically?" Kant wondered, watching as Gabriel plucked a paper towel from the dispenser and drenched it to use as a wet wipe.

"Who else? You think—" Gabriel looked up at Kant, but saw something else. "Shit!"

He stumbled back, his wet hands slipping uselessly off the sink.

Kant’s arm wrapped around Gabriel’s waist, keeping him on his feet without an issue. "Panicking won’t help."

However, when Kant looked up, he almost dropped the heir down on the tiles.

Hale was right in his face, way too close for comfort. His features were hauntingly pale—sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, drained of all frantic zeal of the cult leader.

The two living men barely dared to breathe, slowly moving back, afraid that any sudden move would provoke the evil spirit.

Kant glanced at Gabriel, but the blue eyes were tightly shut. It reminded him of an ostrich burying its head in the sand. He stepped in front of Gabriel, letting go as he turned to face Hale. But the evil spirit was gone.

"What?" Kant turned around, scanning the restroom in confusion. Gone just like that?

"Ugh, I’m definitely getting nightmares tonight," Gabriel mumbled, standing in the same spot where Kant had let go of him, eyes still closed.

The cold presence of the evil spirit lingered, the lights still flickered slightly.

Kant frowned, scratching his brow. "Is it gone?"

Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, but his expression shifted from puzzlement to alarm in a split second. His eyes widened, then squeezed shut again with a sharp gasp.

"Are you messing with me?" He grabbed onto Kant’s arm furiously, his hands still wet from the sink. "Because I swear—"

And Hale was back again, breathing down Kant’s neck. He ducked by reflex.

"Damn it," Kant muttered, his heart stuttering. "Why does it keep disappearing and popping up like some jack-in-the-box?"

Gabriel’s grip tightened. "What? No, it doesn’t. It’s been standing there since he came in."

"Huh?" Kant glanced down at his aching wrist, where Gabriel’s fingers were digging into his skin.

That’s when it hit him. Could he only see Hale when Gabriel touched him?

"Wait, let go for a second," Kant murmured.

"Why?" Gabriel reluctantly removed his hands but didn’t open his eyes.

As soon as the contact was gone, Hale disappeared as if he had never been there in the first place.

Kant scoffed, shaking his head. He touched Gabriel’s arm again, and there was Hale once more, right where he was standing.

Kant repeated the motion a few more times, poking Gabriel.

It was like a glitch in a game.

Gabriel cracked one eye open to see why Kant was patting him. "What are you doing?"

"Every time I touch you, I can see Hale. When I let go, I can’t." Kant poked Gabriel, then lifted his hand for demonstration, "Now I see it, now I don’t."

"Oh..." Gabriel murmured, fidgeting as he turned his attention back to the evil spirit. "But why isn’t it speaking?"