When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 57: Disruption

Chapter 57: Disruption

[FLASHBACK]

Gabriel’s father, William, always came home early, like clockwork.

"How was school?" he would ask as soon as he stepped into the foyer, slipping off his polished shoes. The same question every weekday.

"Good!" Gabriel’s answer was automatic, his eyes flickering toward the driveway, searching for the second car. "I got a nine in math!"

William glanced at him briefly. "Why not a ten?"

"Uh, I solved two problems wrong." Gabriel awkwardly followed him to the study. He glanced at the briefcase his father had brought in. It was already open, papers stacked neatly on the side table where the maid had left coffee.

"Did you do your homework?"

"Not yet."

"Then get on with it." William gave a distracted wave and nudged Gabriel out of his study. "Let me know if you need a better math tutor. I’ll arrange it."

The door clicked shut between them, as it always did, signaling hours of quiet typing and muffled phone calls. Gabriel stared at it for a while, then left to find something to entertain himself with.

At six o’clock, William reappeared.

They sat at the dining table that was too large for two. The maid set the plates in front of them, smiled at Gabriel briefly, then vanished like a shadow.

"I helped with the dinner today," Gabriel leaned over the table and pointed at the bowl of colorful vegetables sitting on the side. "See? I made the salad!"

His father scooped himself a portion, brow furrowing critically. "Why are the cucumbers so unevenly cut?" He took a bite, then frowned faintly. "And why is it so salty?"

"What?" Gabriel stopped chewing and stared at the bowl.

Now that he looked at his salad again, it looked far from the good-looking ones their chef made. Gabriel’s looked like a glaring disaster, out of place. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, feeling something weird and cold that he couldn’t quite name.

"Gabriel, don’t interfere in the kitchen. We have enough staff to do the work. Just focus on your studies."

Gabriel frowned and glanced at the window distractedly, trying to ignore the disappointment. He squinted, trying to find the fingerprint smiley face he had left that morning, but it was already gone. It had been wiped off like any other stain.

About a month later, Gabriel showed up holding a test paper with a bold star on the corner.

He barged into his father’s study with an exclaim, "I got a ten on the math test!"

His father glanced at the paper, took it, flipped it over, then stared at the single lost point from a perfectly flawless score. He sought out the mistake and handed it back to Gabriel. "You should be more attentive. It was a mistake of carelessness."

As his father sorted his documents from his briefcase as usual, he continued, "What about geography? You were quite lacking there the last time I checked. How long will you be getting average grades?"

"I’ll get to it," Gabriel muttered, folding the test paper with sharp moves. So, so annoying. Why couldn’t the man just be happy for once?

William’s eyes narrowed at his frustration as Gabriel grumbled under his breath. "You need to work harder if you want to achieve anything in this world, Gabriel. No one will let half-baked work slide once you step into the real world."

And into the real world he stepped. One careless move, one stupid love letter made his home life unbearable.

"You can’t be... this," his father couldn’t even say the word. "No men in this family has had such," his father gestured vaguely, "inclinations."

Gabriel swallowed the offense and tried to defend himself. "Well, it’s not something genetic or a trait you can pass down, it’s just—"

"It’s not normal, Gabriel. It goes against the rules of nature," his father said sternly, brows tightening.

Gabriel stood silent, his world spinning a little from staying stiffly still for so long. It felt like they walked in circles. William didn’t even try to understand.

"Listen, before I met your mother, I barely looked at women. All you need is to meet a—"

"No, no, no," Gabriel interrupted, rubbing his forehead with a cold hand. "I’m telling you, it’s not something I can change!"

His father leaned his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers. "Have you tried?"

"...Tried what?"

"Being with a woman. It’s because you haven’t done it that you get these thoughts. Once you spend a night with a girl, you’ll see," his father insisted.

Gabriel shook his head and let out a strained exhale, staring out the window. What was even the point of arguing over this?

It was bad enough that he felt like a total idiot after seeing the stupid letter he wrote to the stupid boy in his class, pinned on the school’s stupid announcement board for everyone to see. If only he hadn’t signed that damn thing, he could deny it all.

Gabriel felt like ripping his hair out. When his father confronted him about it after hearing about it from the school’s secretary, he should’ve denied, denied, denied. Instead, he told the truth like the fool he was, and now it was just another flaw his father wanted fixed.

The next day after school, Gabriel dragged his feet home against his own will, stalling on the way everywhere he could.

He stood in the snack aisle of a convenience store for ten minutes, picking a variety of sweets, hoping one of those would fill the hole in him. After buying enough to stuff his bag full, he slowly paced outside the gates of their house, kicking pebbles for a few minutes until he got cold enough to enter.

Gabriel slipped through the foyer and trudged up the grand staircase, his footsteps swallowed by the thick carpet. Nobody noticed him come home. He exhaled in relief as he slipped into his bedroom and closed the door. But when he looked up, he froze.

There was a stranger sitting on his bed.

A woman. Brunette in an elegant, sleek black dress. Young, but visibly older than Gabriel. She was holding one of his sketchbooks, flipping through it with a bored expression.

For a moment, Gabriel wondered if this was some misunderstanding, some misplaced guest. "Uh, hello," he greeted her awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Miss, but you’re not supposed to be here. It’s my room."

Gabriel stepped back towards the door to ask the maid who this was, but when he twisted the handle, it didn’t budge.

Did the lock get jammed? What was going on?

"Gabriel, I’ve been waiting for you." The smooth, feminine voice flowed through the room. The woman closed the sketchbook and set it aside.

He frantically pulled at the handle, but it was... locked? Wary, Gabriel turned around to face her, at a loss of what to do. "Uh, who are you?"

"You can call me Natasha." Her shiny heels clicked gently against the hardwood floor as she approached him. "I’m here to make you feel good," she whispered, running her fingers over Gabriel’s arm.