Pearl Street's Continental Hotel.
When Lake walked into the Continental Hotel, he immediately felt that tonight's atmosphere was different from yesterday's. Yesterday, there had been only a few people in the hotel lobby, but today it felt almost overcrowded.
The Textile Factory had been wiped out.
The time when the Continental Hotel would expel Carlos and issue a bounty on him was drawing near. At this moment, the bounty concerning Carlos was probably already going through the proper channels.
He took the elevator up to the bar.
Whoa!
Lake raised his eyebrows and was slightly surprised to see that the bar was nearly packed. He then sat down across from Carlos, who was the only person sitting at his table.
A sharp swish rang out.
Lake clearly felt a string of gazes fall upon him.
Lake chuckled and turned toward the many assassins in the bar who were watching him, intentionally or otherwise, then raised his middle finger.
It was a provocation.
Without a doubt.
But the many assassins turned a blind eye, merely shifting their gazes from Lake back to Carlos, who sat across from him and looked as though he wanted to drink himself unconscious, one glass after another.
Lake also withdrew his gaze and looked at Carlos. "Well? Are you satisfied with how I handled things?"
Carlos looked up and spoke sparingly. "Aren't you afraid this will be exposed and the Continental Hotel will hunt you down?"
Lake shrugged. "Will you tell them?"
Collusion between an assassin and a law-enforcement officer was a grave crime.
After all, one existed in the darkness and the other in the light. Black and white were as incompatible as fire and water, and no one wanted to see fire and water merge.
Unfortunately...
I'm exactly the kind of person who can merge black and white.
Besides...
Even if the Continental Hotel traced this back to the NYPD, all it would find was that Carlos had used the NYPD's power to eliminate The Assistance. After all, Carlos's confession had been submitted as evidence.
Carlos could claim that Lake had done all this, then use the information about Lake contacting the NYPD to exchange with the Continental Hotel for another form of punishment—in other words, expulsion without a bounty.
Carlos could choose that option, but he couldn't.
His son Wesley was still being held at the NYPD. Until he knew exactly what kind of relationship Lake had with the NYPD, Carlos would never do such a thing.
"Account."
"Here."
"..."
Carlos looked at the bank account registered overseas that had been pushed in front of him the moment he finished speaking. He raised his head and smiled at Lake. "You don't seem worried that I might regret this."
Lake replied casually, "No. What you're worried about and afraid of—I'm neither worried about nor afraid of."
So what if the Continental Hotel hunts me down?
Once I put on my glasses...
Even if Lake stood in the Continental Hotel's lobby face-to-face with everyone there, they would think he was merely a rookie who had just entered the assassin world.
Besides...
No matter how this played out, Lake was confident that if he fought the Continental Hotel to the bitter end, the one that would ultimately close its doors would definitely be the Continental Hotel.
So the things Carlos worried about and feared meant nothing to Lake.
Soon.
"It's done."
After transferring his savings into the bank account Lake had provided, Carlos looked at him. "You can check."
Lake said nothing and did not take out his phone. As an assassin, he did not have a phone.
But Lake had a special way to check his account.
Cheat system, top-up, overseas bank account 602-005-24-678!
With a thought.
Ding!
Top-up successful.
Fifty-nine thousand seven hundred US dollars!
"..."
Lake raised his eyebrows and looked at Carlos. "That's all?"
What the hell?
It's one thing for me to be broke, but you're an assassin ranked at least among the top ten in the world, and this is all you have? Are you trying to fool me?
Carlos was somewhat suspicious of how Lake knew the exact amount, but he still shook his head. "If you knew you were going to die no matter what, would you keep your savings?"
Lake opened and closed his mouth.
That reason was utterly flawless. If I knew I was going to die no matter how hard I struggled, why would I keep my money? Of course I'd spend it on good food, good drinks, and good times all in one go.
So...
After Carlos defected from The Assistance for the sake of his faith, he had gone to the Continental Hotel every night to enjoy all kinds of services. Not only had his savings dwindled, even his gold coins were pitifully few.
Carlos took the last dozen or so gold coins from his pocket and pushed them in front of Lake. "This is everything I have. I probably won't be needing them soon anyway."
Lake looked at the gold coins before him and thought about the transfer of less than sixty thousand dollars in his account.
My heart...
So after all that work, I don't even have enough for a single lottery draw?
Lake took a deep breath and looked at Carlos unwillingly. "Didn't you ever think of leaving some money for that guy? From what I've heard, his living conditions aren't very good."
It wasn't merely that his conditions were poor. They were so tragic that anyone who heard about them would cry in sorrow.
He lived in a cheap apartment beneath the subway, while his girlfriend was cheating on him. The most miserable part was that he knew about it himself, yet still chose to remain unmoved.
Lake didn't know why Wesley had made that choice, but he felt that if he were Wesley, with that humiliation hanging over his head, he would drag those two people to hell with him even if it cost him his life.
The hatred of being cheated on was a grudge that could never be settled without death.
There was no room for negotiation.
Carlos shook his head. "He has his own life."
Lake was already speechless.
With a father like this, Lake felt sorry for Wesley. He clearly had the chance to become a rich second-generation heir, yet because of his father, he had ended up in his current state.
If only Carlos and Wesley weren't Americans but people from the Eastern Kingdom.
At the very least, if they were from the Eastern Kingdom, Lake dared guarantee that Carlos would definitely leave his son a large sum of money—not enormous, but more than enough to live on.
Unfortunately...
The differences between Eastern and Western education had led to differences in their outlooks.
Lake sighed. "Forget it. There should still be a two-million-dollar bounty to fight for later. What do you think?"
He had originally thought that after this series of moves, he would earn at least five million dollars.
But...
The first round had involved showing off too much. He had killed Sloan before he could even ask for the password.
The second round had failed to account for the differences between Eastern and Western education, causing his earnings to fall far short of what he had imagined. They were worlds apart.
But no matter what, the third round should guarantee him two million dollars, right?
Fortunately.
At least it wasn't a case of making a flurry of moves as fierce as a tiger, only to end up with a result of zero point five.
That was what Lake thought. He couldn't possibly let himself work so hard only to end up without even enough for a single lottery draw.
Carlos nodded.
He was going to die either way. There was no difference between dying at someone else's hands and dying at Lake's hands. Since death was unavoidable, it was better to do Lake a favor than die without value. At the very least, Carlos had seen the word "integrity" in Lake.
But...
Carlos's gaze swept across the many assassins in the bar. "I'd like to give it to you, but can you beat them all?"
The corners of Lake's mouth curved upward as he followed Carlos's gaze.
What met his eyes were assassins of every skin tone, all of them staring at Lake as though they wanted to swallow him whole.
Lake spoke lightly. "A pack of mongrels. Whoever dares to take it, I'll kill!"
Before you continue