After thanking Smith, Winston stepped away and sat at an empty booth, picking up a newspaper and pretending to read.
Meanwhile, Smith turned to Fox and asked:
"So, who's the poor bastard with the bounty?"
Fox glanced at the message she had just received and replied:
"A guy named John Wick."
Smith chuckled.
"He's the reason I brought you here today—to observe."
Fox looked puzzled.
"Observe?"
"I thought you were going to casually collect the bounty. What's there to observe in a retired assassin?"
Both of them were well aware of the legend of John Wick, the so-called Boogeyman. Smith had introduced him to Fox back when they first began exploring the world of the Continental.
Fox had always looked down on the hotel's mercenary killers. To her, the Assassin Brotherhood were like modern-day Robin Hoods—heroes. Especially after learning that a failed mission long ago had led to the tragedy of her family, she became fully committed to the Brotherhood's ideals. Even without the Sacred Loom, they still lived by the same principles.
In contrast, the Continental's killers were just rats—selling their skills for money, without ideals. And when it came to strength, Brotherhood members completely outclassed them. Especially Mr. X and Cross, whose sniper skills were practically supernatural.
Hearing the disdain in Fox's voice, Smith said calmly:
"Give it time. You'll understand."
Elsewhere—
John Wick, having just eliminated a wave of assassins sent by Viggo, now arrived at the Continental Hotel.
Carrying a suitcase in his left hand and a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder, John walked steadily toward the reception desk. His expression was grim, a murderous aura clinging to him. Clearly, he'd killed many men last night—he was a volcano waiting to erupt.
As he approached the front desk, a female assassin who had just checked in turned to him and said:
"Nice to see you again, John."
"Likewise, Perkins."
After exchanging greetings, John checked in. Perkins disappeared into the lobby.
John was given Room 818. Once inside, he sat and watched a video of his late wife Helen, then pulled out the Dragon Ball from his pocket.
"Helen... if this is all real, I will wish to bring you back."
He placed the ball in a pouch, tied it off, and hung it around his neck—close to his heart, where it felt safest.
After dressing, John left the room and headed to the underground bar.
At the entrance, he dropped in one Continental coin and was granted access.
Inside, he looked around—and frowned. Not a single Black assassin. Strange. Normally, there were many. This felt... unnatural.
He walked deeper into the bar and nodded a greeting to Perkins along the way. Eventually, he spotted Winston seated at a booth and approached.
"Winston."
Winston folded his newspaper and looked up with a smile.
"Jonathan."
Jonathan John Wick. Most knew him as John Wick, but those close to him called him Jonathan.
Winston removed his glasses and asked:
"If I recall... you're not the type to clean up other people's messes, are you?"
John smiled slightly.
"Something like that."
Winston studied him and continued:
"What brings you here?"
"Iosef Tarasov."
Winston raised an eyebrow.
"What about him?"
John replied plainly:
"I want to talk to him."
Winston took a sip of his whiskey.
"Talk, huh?"
"That's a phrase I'm all too familiar with, Jonathan."
"Let me ask you something—have you ever really tried to get out?"
John didn't flinch.
"Just a visit."
Winston's tone grew serious.
"Have you thought about it?"
"All the way out?"
"You got out once. But you were deep in it. You might find a way out again... but the deeper you go, the harder it'll be."
John wasn't interested in the warnings. He cut straight to the point:
"Where can I find him?"
Winston sighed and answered:
"You know the rules. Don't do anything bad here, or there will be consequences."
He sipped his whiskey again.
"First, have a drink. Relax."
"Now then..."
Just as Winston picked up a pen to write down the address, John stood up and interrupted:
"This is personal."
Winston shook his head as John walked away.
"You really think, the moment you step foot back here, people will believe you ever truly retired...?"
John approached the bar counter to gather intel.
Eddie looked up and exclaimed:
"Oh my god. Jonathan!"
"Hey, Eddie."
Eddie gave him a half hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Damn, it's been four years, right?"
John corrected him:
"Over five."
Eddie raised his eyebrows.
"So? How's the retired life?"
John answered:
"Good, Eddie."
"Better than I deserve."
Eddie's voice softened:
"Hey... I'm sorry about your wife..."
John cut him off:
"Thanks."
Eddie stared at him for a moment and said:
"I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?"
Eddie looked him in the eyes and said slowly:
"Worn out."
John took a deep breath and replied:
"I'm retired."
Eddie smirked:
"If you're drinking in here... you're not."
He pointed behind him at the liquor shelf.
"The usual?"
"Yeah."
Over in a nearby booth, Fox checked her phone, then looked at Smith and the bar.
"Smith, his price just went up—four million dollars."
"Oh, and they're throwing in four Continental coins as a bonus."
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]/euridome]
[Thank You For Your Support!]