"I really like New York as it is now."
At an open-air bar along the Hudson River, Lake, wearing the appearance of the Black King, took a sip of the bourbon in his hand, crossed his legs, and smiled at Winston, who had arrived exactly fifteen minutes later and was sitting across from him. "What about you, Winston?"
Winston ordered a whiskey from a server beside him, then looked at Lake. "The air is indeed much better than before."
Lake laughed lightly. His gaze shifted to the short-haired woman who had just sat down nearby, and he raised an eyebrow. "You are..."
Winston introduced her from the side. "The Adjudicator this time. Mike De'Antoni, a member of the Twelve Directors, is dead."
Lake gave a soft "Oh."
The High Table consisted of only four people—or rather, four organizations.
But...
Beneath these four tables, there was also a twelve-member round-table council. These twelve seats were similar to a management board, responsible for maintaining and operating The Continental Hotel as it was now.
The most famous branch of the Italian Mafia, namely the Family of Anthony, was one of the members of this twelve-person management board.
The moment the Adjudicator saw Lake's face, she immediately understood that what Winston had said earlier was true. Without a doubt, the Black King was certainly part of the High Table—and not merely an ordinary member, but one of the highest-ranking members.
After all, if they had not suddenly discovered back then that the Immortal Consortium was also among the four High Table factions, then, frankly speaking, The Continental Hotel would probably have ceased to exist by now.
But.
The short-haired female Adjudicator hesitated for a moment before looking at Lake. "Your Majesty, Black King, are you here because of John Wick?"
Lake looked at the