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6.17% When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost / Chapter 5: Do You Recycle?

Chapitre 5: Do You Recycle?

Ein stood outside Jolly Chicken in his damp parka, waiting for the rain to lessen. He glanced down at the plain briefcase every few minutes, the weight of it heavy in his hand.

Adriel showed up. "Which hole did you fall into?! I turned around for a second, and you were gone! I even circled this creepy neighborhood, looking for you!"

He paused, noticing the suitcase. "What's that? The price of my life?"

"Half of it," Ein put it straight.

Adriel glanced at Ein, raising an eyebrow. "And where's the other half?"

Ein looked back at the chicken joint. Avery was wiping down the table, but he noticed Ein staring and waved. 

"He has it? Why?" Adriel questioned. 

Turning his back on the wide window, Ein explained in a low voice. "Avery takes care of all the formalities and contacting the clients. He's the front while Dean and I do the work."

"The green bomber jacket? It must be a pain working with that guy," Adriel mumbled. 

"We usually work separately, so we rarely meet."

Adriel nodded, his gaze trailing back to the briefcase. After a moment of silence, he asked, "So, how much was my life worth?"

"Five."

The ghost's jaw dropped. "You killed me for just five thousand?!"

"Hundred."

"Oh," Adriel straightened, settling down. "Hm. I guess I can live with that. Or, in this case, die with that..." He let out a dry laugh.

Ein didn't say anything, allowing the minutes to pass in silence. The briefcase suddenly felt heavier in his grip.

"And who..." the ghost spoke after a while, hesitating. "Who ordered it? My death, I mean."

"Like I said, I never meet the clients. You'd have to ask Avery," Ein smoothly avoided the question, starting the walk home. The rain had lessened enough.

He didn't want to tell Adriel that his uncle had ordered the hit. What use would it be to tell him? Upsetting a ghost wouldn't make Ein's life easier. 

The sound on the rain and the taps of his steps on the wet asphalt led the way back.

As they entered the apartment, Adriel kicked his shoes off and fell onto the sofa, stretching his ghostly muscles with a groan.

Ein passed him, setting the briefcase on the table. He opened it, and took out a yellow box he had tucked in on the side. 

The ghost sprang up at the warm smell. "Chicken? You actually brought back a box for me!" It looked like he was about to cry from joy. 

"You asked," Ein noted casually, opening the box. That was the least he could do.

The steam from the fried chicken was like a gift of life, wrapping around Adriel, who circled the table enthusiastically. But he stopped before picking a piece, "What's the time?"

Ein checked his phone. "Eleven fifty-four. Why?"

Adriel leaned over the box, staring at the golden skin. "I'll wait until it's midnight so I can pretend it's my birthday gift."

"Suit yourself." Ein scoffed softly, pulling out a chair. He sat down, watching the ghost shift his weight from one foot to another.

The only sounds were the rain hitting the metal ledges, and the distant voices coming through the open window.

It was strange. He had never found silence to be uncomfortable. Was it the guilt of taking the deal on Adriel's life gnawing at him? 

"You said you were going to meet your uncle to figure out something. What was that about?" Ein asked, then immediately kicked himself in his head.

He had always made it a point not to get involved in others' private business. Especially his targets' lives. But perhaps since Adriel was dead, it could be considered a loophole.

"It's a long story," Adriel waved his hand distractedly, yet continued talking, "I was going to step back from family business. Now that my father's health was declining, I was supposed to take his place soon. But..."

The ghost sighed longingly, casting a quick glance at Ein. "But it just felt suffocating, you know?"

Ein gave a slow nod. Although he didn't know Adriel's situation, the feeling of suffocation was an old friend for him. "What dreams did you have?"

Adriel looked up at him, his brows raised in surprise. "You seriously want to know?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, you're not exactly a friendly guy. Didn't think you'd care."

"...I can listen."

The ghost hummed, his gaze settling on one spot as he seemed to get lost in thought. "Dreams..." he repeated.

Ein waited as Adriel assembled an answer.

"To be honest, I don't know... I was trying to find something I truly cared for in this world... But in the end it felt like the world would only judge me."

Giving a small shrug, Ein said, "Life ain't a pot of honey."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone says that." Adriel pushed the box of chicken around absentmindedly. "But does it have to be like that? Can't people think of others before opening their mouths? Why's there so little empathy?"

"Empathy?" Ein leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "It's like recycling—some people do it, some don't. Some throw a glass bottle in plastic bin and call it a day."

Adriel leaned over the table with a dramatic sigh, stretching his body along the surface. "And what type of person are you? Do you recycle?"

"Not human emotions."

The deadpan answer prompted Adriel to let out a snort that blew into a full-on laugh that echoed through the room. He slapped the table before remembering about the chicken.

"Oh! What's the time now?"

Ein tapped his phone screen. "Past midnight."

"Nice!" Adriel straightened, picking out a piece of chicken with a wide grin.

Ein watched the ghost sink his teeth into the meat with a crisp crunch, thinking.

So far, Adriel's reputation had proven to be far from reality. He was barely hedonistic—if getting excited over chicken could even count as hedonistic. Then again, Ein didn't know him well. People were different in life and death.

"Mmm." Adriel licked his fingers and smacked his lips as he reached for another piece. "I know I'm dead, but this is the best thing I've eaten in my whole life."

"Puts you in high spirits, huh?" Ein remarked dryly.

Adriel let out a cackle, pointing at him with a chicken wing. "Ha! I like that! You got more jokes?"

"Knock, knock."

"Ah, no, no. I'm not falling for that. You'll probably just slam the door in my face again," the ghost pointed out, his eyes curving in amusement.

Ein watched him, reflecting on the earlier conversation about life and empathy. Perhaps killing the heir wasn't right. 

But it was done. 

Ein sank his teeth into his lip, thinking. He should have done proper research before accepting the hit. No matter Adriel's connection to Byers Holdings, he shouldn't have made a rash decision.

But there was no way to turn back the time. The least Ein could do now was fulfill the ghost's wishes to help him move on to the afterlife. 

He got up and grabbed his jacket off the chair, turning to Adriel. "Let's steal your body."


L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS
Buyong Buyong

Average Tuesday night activities: stealing a dead body.

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