Charlotte Agency made it safely through the night.
Morning.
"Check in!"
Ding—check-in successful. Received 200 Reputation Points!
Seeing another 200 Reputation Points added to his account, Charlotte Doyle nodded in satisfaction. He now had 8,296 Reputation Points and was not far from ten thousand.
Charlotte Doyle left his room with a bottle of bourbon whiskey and headed for the recovery room.
When he arrived at the recovery room, Charlotte saw that John Wick was soaking in the leftmost of the three newly built cement tubs, his entire body encased in a wax bath with only his face exposed.
Hearing footsteps, John Wick immediately woke up alertly. However, with his face covered in wax, he could not open his mouth to speak and could only make muffled "Mm, mm" sounds.
Seeing John awake, Charlotte walked over and asked, "John, are you all right?"
Recognizing Charlotte's voice, John Wick stopped struggling against the wax on his face.
"I feel much better. I'm just a little thirsty."
As John spoke, the wax on his face began to crack, and some of it even fell toward his mouth.
Charlotte cleared the wax from John Wick's face and said, "Here, have some water."
He then unscrewed the bourbon whiskey he had brought in, poured a small glass, and fed it to John Wick.
As the liquor went down his throat, John felt much better. "Thank you. This is my favorite bourbon whiskey."
"What is this wax bath?"
Charlotte set the bourbon whiskey aside, sat beside John, and explained, "This wax bath stimulates white blood cells and speeds up the recovery process."
"Bruises, cuts, and fractures can heal within hours here."
Hearing that, John Wick was stunned and said somewhat incoherently, "Th-this is far too powerful!"
"With this, there's no need to fear ordinary injuries at all."
Especially cuts and fractures—healing within a few hours was simply absurd. Even if an assassin suffered serious injuries, he could recover by the next day and continue fighting.
John was astonished that Charlotte possessed something so remarkable. Even Winston of The Continental Hotel, or the High Table above him, had nothing comparable.
However, Charlotte shook his head. "As good as it is, it can only treat external injuries. If someone is shot in a vital area with a pistol, there's still no way to save them."
John Wick was not disappointed in the slightest upon hearing that injuries to vital areas could not be treated. To him, the wax bath was already perfect.
With this, John Wick had even greater confidence in Charlotte Doyle becoming one of the Thirteen Seats of the High Table. The wax bath alone could bring Charlotte enormous profits and followers.
"Charlotte, this is already perfect. Its effects are incredibly powerful."
Charlotte smiled and did not continue the topic. Instead, he said, "All right, I'm heading out first. Once the wax melts, get ready to come out. I'll be waiting for you in the Training Room."
The Continental Hotel.
A Black Mercedes-Benz Car pulled up in front of the hotel. A tall woman with close-cropped hair stepped out, wearing a black overcoat and black boots, her fingernails painted black as well. She carried a black briefcase.
She walked toward The Continental Hotel, radiating a capable, icy presence. Before long, she arrived at the service desk.
Charon looked at the woman who had approached the service desk and said, "Welcome to The Continental Hotel. How may I help you?"
She took out a Gold Coin representing her identity as an Adjudicator and slowly pushed it toward Charon with two fingers. She did not say a word, merely stared at him.
Charon picked up the Gold Coin from the service desk, examined it carefully, then set it back down. He picked up the desk phone at the front desk and dialed through the internal line. Once the call connected, he said, "Sir, an Adjudicator wishes to see you."
"Very well, sir."
Charon put down the phone and respectfully told the Adjudicator before him, "The manager is in the lounge."
The Adjudicator glanced at Charon, put away the Gold Coin that identified her, and walked toward the lounge without saying a word.
Winston arrived at the lounge and looked at the Female Arbiter standing there. "I assume you're here to discuss John Wick."
"If so, we can keep this brief."
"I told him to turn around and leave. He refused. That's the whole story."
The Female Arbiter walked up to Winston and said bluntly, "Mr. Wick broke the Rules."
Winston nodded. "Yes."
"I know nothing about his whereabouts..."
Before Winston could finish, the Female Arbiter interrupted, "You misunderstand. I'm not here for Mr. Wick."
"I'm here because Mr. Wick broke the Rules in this hotel. Someone died in The Continental Hotel."
"Correct?"
Winston answered heavily, "Correct."
"In fact, bodies grow colder within these walls."
The Female Arbiter stared at Winston, her expression calm. "I would like to see it."
Winston nodded and led her to where Santino Antonio's body was being kept.
The two made their way to the crematorium. There, on the transport gurney, lay Santino Antonio's corpse.
Looking at the body, the Female Arbiter said to Winston, "Santino Antonio, the newly appointed member of the High Table, was killed by Mr. Wick while seeking sanctuary at The Continental Hotel."
She then bent down to inspect the fatal wound on Santino Antonio's forehead. "It appears he died from a .45ACP automatic pistol round."
Having confirmed the weapon that killed him, the Adjudicator straightened and looked at Winston.
Meeting her gaze, Winston explained, "I could not control Mr. Wick's actions."
The Adjudicator rebutted, "Yet he is still alive because of your decision, correct?"
Winston admitted calmly, "Correct."
Seeing Winston acknowledge it, the Adjudicator continued, "You and Mr. Wick have known each other for many years. It would not be wrong to call you friends, correct?"
"He killed Santino Antonio in front of you, and you chose to stand by and let him go."
"Rather than stop him or kill him."
Hearing the Adjudicator put it that way, Winston immediately sensed trouble. "I excommunicated him from The Continental Hotel."
The Adjudicator did not relent. "But you still gave him one hour to flee."
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