When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 89: Misfortune Comes In Pairs

Chapter 89: Misfortune Comes In Pairs

Kant roused in the middle of the day. He slumped upright, one foot still in dreamland, blinking blearily at the room.

The spot in the bed next to him was cold, the owner of the apartment nowhere in sight.

Kant rubbed his face, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was the middle of the day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling rested.

A piece of paper was left by the clock.

It read: "Good morning! I had to leave for work, but you were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast’s on the dining table! :)"

Kant pressed his knuckles to his lips. Memories of the last night resurfaced in vivid detail.

Everything from hiding behind the tree to drunkenly blurting out everything on his mind to Gabriel, to the moment on the bridge across the city canal, the way back, and...

Instead of cringing or regretting it, Kant was left with a tingly feeling. His heart beat almost painfully. What was this? Some early cardiac trouble?

He stood up, paced a little, fighting the urge to crush something. In the end, he distracted himself by taking in little details about Gabriel’s life.

Kant even dared to take another peek in the colorful nightstand drawer. It was like an entire sex store tucked into a small corner. Felt inappropriate just looking at it.

He waited. And after a few hours of lingering in Gabriel’s world, the clock struck seven. Yet there was no sign of Gabriel. Perhaps work had held him longer.

At eight-thirty, Kant found himself still sitting on the couch, staring at the black TV screen. He wasn’t restless. Not yet. But something about the silence felt... off.

Kant grabbed the remote and turned it over in his hand. Perhaps he was restless after all. He flicked on the television, not expecting much. Just to fill the quiet.

And then he saw it.

"Breaking news: Jefferson Byers, chairman of Byers Holdings, has collapsed and is now hospitalized in critical condition."

Kant’s eyebrows raised in an expression of half-disbelief, half ’I knew the karma would catch up—or the evil spirit, in this case.’

The newscaster continued, voice smooth and professional.

"With Byers Holdings already under public scrutiny, sources close to the family reveal concern over the company’s future. The Byers family has faced a string of misfortunes over the past year, leading many to question whether their legacy can survive yet another blow."

The screen cut to footage of a hospital entrance, reporters swarming outside. A few stony faces of businessmen and security personnel flashed across the screen.

Gabriel didn’t show. No one said his name. Still, Kant got up, took his jacket, and left.

. . .

The hospital buzzed with movement—reporters clustered by the entrance, security keeping them in check. Kant lingered at the edge, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the scene.

The Byers name was everywhere. News vans, hushed conversations, flashing cameras.

Kant moved forward, pushing past the initial chaos. Inside, the air was clearer, but still thick with tension.

All-exposing lights glared from above, casting everything in a harsh, unflattering glow. Nurses moved briskly, their shoes tapping lightly on the linoleum, but there was no sense of rush, only a quiet, pressing urgency.

An ever-present smell of antiseptic mixed with something familiar from his youth clung to his senses.

Security stood firm near restricted areas.

Kant scanned the lobby. If Gabriel was here, he’d be in the family-only zone, behind the guards. His mind raced, wondering how to get past.

But there was no need to overthink.

A nurse exited a storage room on his left. Kant slipped in behind her, his foot catching the door just enough to avoid drawing attention.

He emerged in scrubs and a mask, pushing a supply cart he’d grabbed as a prop. Hopefully, no one would notice.

The wheels squeaked as he moved down the hallway, his heart picking up pace when he reached a door that required a keycard.

He patted his pockets for the small device he always carried. Damn it, he didn’t have it on him.

A nurse walked by, swiping her card. As she entered, Kant moved to follow, but she stopped. Turned.

The air tightened.

His breath was shallow, and despite the cool air from the AC brushing against his skin, he was sweating. A faint beep echoed from somewhere deeper in the hall.

"How many times do I need to ask you to fix the wheels?" she scolded him. "It’s late in the evening, and the constant squeaking is getting on my nerves. Is it that hard to oil them? I swear."

Kant murmured an apology, bowing his head, and drifting down the hallway.

Once he rounded the corner, he left the cart behind and moved swiftly, checking doors, scanning the rooms. No sign of Gabriel.

Did his intuition reach its expiration date? To think he might have come to creep around a hospital for nothing.

Kant shook his head. He should have called first. Why had he jumped over his ass without thinking first?

Then, a voice rung out. Sharp. Tense. Cutting the sterile quiet in half.

Kant followed the sound, pausing by the bathroom. It sounded like someone was arguing on the phone... and that voice was exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

He pulled the knob, but as soon as he did, the voice cut off. The door was locked. After some anxious shuffling inside, it opened.

Gabriel burst out, almost slamming into Kant, who’d remained standing close by. "Whoops, sorry!" He squeezed past without looking at him.

"Wait," Kant put an arm up to stop him, and the ball of nerves bounced right into it.

In that brief moment of contact, a petulant figure flashed in the corner of Kant’s eye. So that was who he was arguing with.

Gabriel backed away, awkwardly mumbling another apology. Then he did a double take, squinting slightly.

Kant pulled down his mask.

Gabriel exhaled, leaning against the wall. "Oh, thank God." He scanned the scrubs, then added, "But how did you get these?"

"Stole ’em," Kant put it straight.

The light above flickered, the sound resembling someone clicking their tongue disapprovingly.

"Right, Hale’s here," Gabriel pointed over his shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair, huffing a defeated laugh. "Guess who he was pestering while I was enjoying his absence?"

"Your uncle," Kant concluded dryly. He took Gabriel’s cold hand, and an obnoxious, loud complaint rang through his ears.

"If you refuse to work to bring karma to Jefferson, I’ll do it directly!" Hale harped, his voice distorted in an eerie way. "What do you not understand?! The retribution is inescapable!"

Gabriel glanced down at their connected hands, a very small smile surfacing before the irritation took over as Hale shouted more righteous nonsense.

"He’s been going at it non-stop," Gabriel whispered to Kant. "I think his evil-spiritedness is getting an upgrade."

"What are you plotting? Don’t whisper behind my back," Hale snapped.

"It’s not exactly behind your back if you’re right in front of us, is it?" Gabriel snarked back.

The evil spirit stepped forward. "You’ve been too daring with me, young man," he shook his finger, "do not forget—you’re only alive thanks to me. I can take your body away anytime I please!"

And that was his only warning, because in the blink of an eye, Hale entered Gabriel’s body and tore away from Kant’s grasp.

"I will not let you team up against me!" Hale declared in Gabriel’s voice.

Kant barely had a second to process it before footsteps echoed from the hall.

"Damn you." He grabbed Gabriel—Hale—by the wrist and shoved him backwards into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The lock clicked into place.