A satisfied smile stretched over Jefferson's lips as he engaged in conversation with the two goons, seemingly unconcerned with his surroundings.
They laughed heartily and patted each other on the back like old friends. The waitress brought a platter of three whiskey cups to their table.
Ein's brows furrowed as he heard the clinking of glasses. Celebrating something? He glanced at Adriel, whose expression was a mix of puzzlement and naivety.
The ghost scratched the back of his head, trying to justify what he saw, "My uncle has never been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve. I'm sure he's grieving in private..."
Ein's jaw tightened as he looked back to the table. The longer he stared at the man with the scar on his chin, the clearer he could recall Luke's fearful expression and the scarred man's cruel delight—that sick, sadistic grin.
"I've never seen these guys before," Adriel thought out loud. "Are they new clients? But my uncle seems to know them well."
Ein's fingers dug into the table as he glared at the scarred man. Of course, Adriel wouldn't have met them. They weren't Byers Holdings' office workers. They were underground goons, who took care of the dirty work.
"I'll go listen in," the ghost murmured, walking over to the dim corner.
Ein gave him a barely perceptible nod and kept watching, taking a stiff sip of his coffee while keeping an eye on the bartender.
One bonus with Adriel being a ghost was that eavesdropping caused no risk. He walked casually towards the table, not bothering with stealth. In fact, he was so obvious that Ein could hear his steps confidently striding over.
The ghost sunk into the fourth velvety chair, crossing his legs as he looked at his uncle, then at the other two men. Then he glanced back at Ein and waved with a wide grin.
"It's so funny, they can't see or hear me at all!" he yelled across the area.
Adriel tapped whiskey glass in Jefferson's hand. "I told you to stop drinking," he grumbled, tapping the glass. "It's bad for your heart."
His uncle froze, as if feeling a sudden chill. His eyes darted to the side, but he saw nothing. Meanwhile, the other two men continued their conversation, oblivious to the ghost's antics.
Adriel snickered, tapping the glass again. "That's right, put the glass down. The ghost of your nephew came to tell you to make better choices!"
Jefferson hastily set the glass down on the table and frowned, rolling his wrist as if it was to blame for the odd sensations.
Meanwhile, Ein watched from the distance, his anger dampened as the ghost kept messing around with the living. A part of him wanted to let Adriel continue messing around just to see how far it could go.
Adriel shifted his weight in the chair, amused at his uncle's compliance. "You can't see me, but you seem to sense my presence. Or can you hear me?" he said, leaning forward on the table expectedly.
Jefferson's phone started ringing, and the man got startled by the sound. He cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving the table to take the call.
"Guess not," Adriel murmured, slumping in his seat.
With his uncle gone, the man with the scar on his chin said, "Isn't it suspicious that the heir passed right before the shareholders' meeting? And now Jefferson is appointed as the next in charge."
"You think he had something to do with it?" the other man asked in a hushed voice.
"Without a doubt. I wouldn't be surprised if he did it with his own hands," the scarred man replied, bringing the cup to his smirking lips.
The ghost scowled and hit the bottom of his whiskey glass. "I dare you to say it again, you shit-talker!"
The drink spilled all over the man's shirt. He jumped back in surprise, then grabbed a napkin and tried to dry his shirt off with a huff.
The other man with him stared at the mess, bewildered. "That's karma for ya. Spewing nonsense about shit you don't know."
"It's clear as a day. The timing matches, so do motives. I'm not against it anyway," the scarred man muttered, still wiping his shirt. "No one wanted to have that kid in charge. You know it, I know it, we all know it. Don't act all saintly."
Ein couldn't hear what they were talking about over there. He puffed an exhale, scratching his brow as he saw Adriel stand up. It looked like he was going to kick the chair to throw the man out of his seat.
The scarred man continued, seemingly unbothered by the eerie events unfolding around them. "The company would go to shit. Kid was soft-hearted and indecisive. I heard he was into men too. Pretending to date women to keep up with the appearances. It's about time for that kind to disappear."
Adriel's eyebrows twitched, his fists clenching. He kicked the table hard, rattling the items on it.
The two goons jumped up, trying figure out what was going on. Meanwhile, the ghost turned and walked out of the bar, forgetting about Ein.
"The hell," Ein muttered under his breath, tossing a twenty dollar bill on the table before following Adriel, who didn't slow down nor look back.
The ghost turned a corner into the disposal alley of the hotel. Ein halted right before the corner.
Jefferson Byers was standing a few meters away. Tall walls loomed on either side, hiding the morning sun.
Adriel strode up to his uncle and leaned in with his ear next to the man's phone to listen in on the phone call.
"What do you mean?" Jefferson raised his voice, but quickly lowered it, glancing around anxiously. "How can a body just disappear? Someone obviously stole it," he hissed into his phone.
Ein almost felt like laughing. Little did the man know this thief was standing right behind the corner, watching him along with a ghost accomplice.
"It wasn't stealing, it was my body," Adriel defended himself. "We just took it back."
"What blind spots? Are you taking me for a fool?" Jefferson muttered, getting agitated. He huffed, rubbing his forehead. "Tell me, how can hospital surveillance cameras have blind spots?"
Ein rubbed his itching nose with a grimace, preventing a sneeze.
Adriel, who was watching him while listening to the call, didn't miss the chance to tease. "Aw, is this weather too chilly for you? Can a hitman even catch a cold?"
Jefferson Byers finished his phone call, and extra footsteps approached. The two goons that were sitting by the table in the bar came out to the disposal area. Ein stood still, his eyes narrowing.
Damn it. He was out of the range to hear their hushed conversation.
The ghost was back by his side, getting in his face, "Look at you sweating. Think you might have a fever?"
Ein shook his head, trying to gesture for Adriel to go back there to keep listening, but he didn't get the hint.
"Your lifestyle must be why you got sick," the ghost commented, leaning against the wall. "You skip on sleep, survive on fried chicken. That's not very healthy."
Ein closed his eyes, rolling them behind his eyelids. Was he seriously forced to listen to a ghost criticizing his lifestyle?
The two men and Jefferson split up after their little chat, steps retreating behind the personnel door as they left the disposal area.
Adriel crossed his arms, staring at Ein. "How are you even in such a good shape if you live like this?"
"Is that what's important to you right now?" Ein muttered as he slipped out of his hiding spot.
The ghost kicked a cigarette butt across the ground, mumbling something. But seeing Ein walk away without him, Adriel sped up and jumped into the car.
"Hey, just a silly question..." Adriel dragged. "Do you think my uncle will take my place now that I'm gone?"
Ein didn't even need to think about it. Of course, it was going to be Jefferson Byers. It's not like he ordered Adriel's death for no reason. With the heir out of the way, he was the next in line. Money was worth more than a human life in this world.
"No reply, Mr. Reindeer?"
"Huh?" Ein turned to look at him with a baffled expression.
Adriel pointed at his face, "Your nose is red."
Ein let out an irritated huff, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. "Can you lay it off for a moment?"
The ghost let out an obnoxious chuckle, humming, "Rude-Ein, the red-nosed reindeer."