This World Is Unusual

John Wick had a dream. In it, his beloved wife, who had just passed away, told him to live well. Together, they walked along a beach by the sea, enjoying the beautiful sunset...

Until a faint pain reminded him that he still had a mission to complete. A group of petty thieves from who knew where had sneaked into his house in the middle of the night, killed the dog his wife had bought to keep him company, stolen his beloved Ford Boss 729, and arrogantly beaten him unconscious.

He apologized to the figure in his dream. He had no choice but to wake up...

John Wick slowly opened his eyes. The bright lights made him uncomfortable, and the pain in his body made him frown. His stomach, back, face, and the back of his head had all taken heavy blows. It did not feel good.

Yet what made him feel even worse was the smell of frying steak reaching his nose.

"Mr. Wick, a comfortable life has made you let down your guard. Who would have thought that the legendary Night Demon would have his dog killed, his car stolen, and himself beaten unconscious by a few petty thieves in the middle of the night, in his own home... Sorry, let me check the time. It's 2:20 now. Counting the time it took me to get here—oh, esteemed Mr. John Wick, you were knocked out by a few unknown petty thieves for one hour and thirty-two minutes."

John Wick ignored the damned mockery. With a strained grunt, he got to his feet, smoothed back his disheveled long hair, and frowned at the man sitting on the sofa in the living room some distance away. He was wearing pajamas, eating steak, and drinking a bottle of 1974 Romanée-Conti dry red