When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 66: Recycled Hope

Chapter 66: Recycled Hope

"So you were fired for killing someone under the guise of research, and that’s when you decided to build a cult?"

Gabriel’s question triggered Hale, throwing him back into the repetitive cycle of slander.

"That’s when I met Sam, the snake, the deceiver, the devil with a mask of flesh! As we talked of purpose, that man was counting the money under the table!" Hale bellowed, his shadow stretching before sinking in defeat.

"However... he made Lazarus Blessing possible, that I cannot deny." He turned to look at Gabriel, his hand on his chest. "My dear followers—the people who have witnessed death—they put their trust in me. They heard my words."

Gabriel rubbed his chin, feeling a bit crazy while trying to hear him out, yet he couldn’t deny he was fairly curious to find out what was going on in the ex-cult leader’s head.

Hale seemed to be reminiscing, murmuring, "Believing in yourself gives you the strength of a warrior, but being believed in gives you the strength of an army."

"What made you think people could be resurrected in the first place?" Gabriel inquired.

Hale’s gaze turned back to the window, as though the world outside could answer questions that no one else could. A deep sigh escaped him, his chest heaving with a weight only he could feel.

"Some things are better left unsaid."

"So you won’t tell me?" Gabriel rested his chin in the palm of his hand, waiting.

The evil spirit held his stillness, watching the city in the distance with a distant gaze. But his secrecy soon expired with an impatient exhale.

"It was in the beginning of my career. I had a student. She had a bright, open mind and a powerful spirit. But she had an illness... The cruelty of life. We’re endowed with mind, spirit, and body, but no one gets all three."

"Why not? Most people have all three," Gabriel said, but quickly corrected himself in the face of the ghostly presence, "Well, the living do."

Hale clicked his tongue. "That is what you think. But even you only have two. Your mind is filled with ignorance, weak when faced with adversity."

Gabriel laughed, offended. "Excuse you, I’m not..." He sighed, waving for Hale to continue. "Whatever. You had a student who had an illness, then what?"

Hale’s fingers twitched, his shadow sagging to his feet with regret. "We spoke of rebirth. She believed the body and mind are changeable vessels, but the spirit alone remains unchanged, moving from vessel to vessel, yet retaining the depth of its experience."

"But we don’t have memories from our past lives. How could we possibly retain all that experience?"

"It is what you call intuition," Hale explained, momentarily possessing the calm of a professor. "Knowledge that’s unseen, but felt. Something inexplicable that guides you. Your spirit’s wisdom."

Gabriel nodded slowly, leaning forward. Although he never considered himself to be a spiritual person, it made sense to him.

Hale sighed, straightening his robes. "Our disconnect was that she believed rebirth could only happen by the laws of life. Once the body dies, the spirit leaves the body, then wanders the world until it gets reassigned to a new body at its birth."

"That makes sense too, hypothetically. You die an old man, then get born as a new baby," Gabriel remarked, bouncing his leg.

"But it’s not the only way of being reborn. It can’t be," Hale insisted, approaching the desk. "There is always more than one way to do something."

"Uh, I’m not sure it applies to everything, especially something like this."

"You’ve seen scientific discoveries, things that were previously unimaginable, made possible! What makes spiritual discoveries any different?"

Growing more erratic, Hale tapped the desk. "Child, you’ve seen it with your friend and experienced it first-hand. You were reborn into your own vessel!"

"Alright, pause," Gabriel leaned back in his chair when the evil spirit got too close, "for starters, Kant’s soul left his body for a while. I wouldn’t say he was reborn—"

"Did he not act different? Were his actions exactly the same as before?" Hale pressed.

Gabriel’s leg stilled as he thought about it. "Well... maybe a little different? But who wouldn’t act a little different after a near-death experience?"

"It wasn’t just a near-death experience, it was death itself!" Hale exclaimed, starting to pace, his gloomy shadow following him. "Those who have experienced clinical death and returned to their bodies experience what people call ’spiritual awakening’!"

Gabriel pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. "You don’t see Kant meditating, do you?"

Hale paused, looking at him with a deep, century-old frustration. "Do you think meditation is the only way you connect with your spirit?"

"Err... No?" Gabriel murmured unsurely, feeling like a student who had angered the teacher.

"People who have experienced the spiritual awakening often find themselves misaligned with their past actions and seek change." Hale slapped his hand on the desk, so hard that the small paperweight bounced. "You are a prime example, yet you doubt it!"

"Hey, hey, easy now!" Gabriel quickly removed the object, hiding it in one of the drawers. "That’s enough chaos for the day. Take a breather."

There was a long pause as Hale stared at the drawer. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. "I suppose I owe you an apology... for earlier." He straightened, his shadow shifting uncomfortably.

Gabriel lifted his gaze, skeptical to the point he was certain he was wearing Kant’s expression. "When you threatened to crack my skull open over some documents?"

Could evil spirits really apologize?

"Those were not just ’some’ documents. They’re crucial to our plan! Next, we must get the ledger. Make your preparations," Hale urged, his tone shifting back to business.

Gabriel’s expression flattened. "Apology, my foot." He slumped back in his chair. "Sure, why would you be sorry for something you’ll probably do again?"

He stared at his browser, resisting the urge to look up shamans on his laptop. The thing was—the only shaman he trusted to have appropriate supernatural knowledge was Kant’s grandma. But he couldn’t remember the way to her house, and Kant was unreachable.

Gabriel glanced at his phone: no new messages, no incoming calls. That couldn’t be the end of them, could it?

He slowly typed out another message, then pressed send, not really expecting a reply.

(Hey, is everything okay?) 10:07 PM

A small green check marked the message as read.

Gabriel sprang up in his seat, his heart beating in anticipation. Kant read the message? He did!

(Sorry, I was busy. I’ll explain later, but right now I need your help. Can you be at the Red Tail bar in one hour?) 10:08 PM

Rushing, Gabriel kicked the chair back to get ready, startling Hale.

The evil spirit gaped at him, clearly bewildered. "What did you see on your phone? Why are you causing a ruckus?"

"Kant asked for my help!" Gabriel bolted across his apartment, switching into the most energetic state he had been in the past few days.

"Help? With what?" Hale questioned, watching him wrestle with his sweatshirt.

"I don’t know," Gabriel huffed, pulling the collar over his head, "but it’s the first time he asked me to show up. Whatever it is, I’ll figure it out when I get there."