Contract Form

The Continental Hotel had a long history. It had existed long before computers appeared. Back then, assassins accepted assignments and turned in completed jobs using paper contract forms like these.

Normally, such contract forms came in duplicate. One copy had the key information redacted, along with the target's photograph, and was delivered to the assassin. The assassin completed the assignment according to the contents of the form, after which the Continental Hotel would verify it.

Once verification was complete, the assassin's copy would be stamped, merged with the complete version originally kept by the Continental Hotel, and sent to the High Table's dedicated archives.

And what stood before Lola now was precisely the contract form that should have been stored by the High Table!

Lola could not imagine why records preserved by the High Table had ended up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands, much less why S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records had found their way into Sherlock's possession.

The implications behind this grew more terrifying the more she thought about them. Clearly, this was already beyond what she, the manager of a Continental Hotel, could handle.

Though she was utterly horrified inside, Lola maintained a composed expression. Still, her unconscious movements betrayed the panic in her heart.

After briefly going through the documents Sherlock had provided, Lola closed them and placed them back on the coffee table.

Throughout the entire process, Lola had not even noticed that her hands were trembling slightly.

After taking a deep breath, Lola put on her professional smile again and looked toward Sherlock.

"This is indeed a Continental Hotel contract form. May I ask what exactly you mean by this, Mr. Sherlock? Are you here for revenge, or..."

Before Lola could finish, Sherlock raised a hand to interrupt her. Pointing at the documents on the table, he spoke to her with an amused smile.

"Relax. I've always been a reasonable person. The Continental Hotel is the Continental Hotel, the assassin is the assassin, and the person behind it is the person behind it.

"I know perfectly well that Obadiah is my enemy. But likewise, I need an explanation from the Continental Hotel.

"Of course, I don't need much. I only need evidence and the truth. As long as the Continental Hotel tells me who accepted the assignment and what they did, rest assured, I absolutely won't drag the Continental Hotel into this."

Hearing Sherlock's words, Lola's frown deepened. The reason was simple: at that moment, she would have preferred Sherlock to attack the Continental Hotel directly.

Only then could they preserve the rules upheld by the Continental Hotel, perhaps even use the Los Angeles Continental Hotel as the "smallest" possible price to vent Sherlock's anger.

On the other hand, if they truly followed Sherlock's demand and gave him information about the assassin and the method of assassination, the Continental Hotel's reputation, maintained over countless years, would collapse in an instant. And for the Continental Hotel, a ruined reputation was the one thing they could never accept.

Naturally, Sherlock understood what Lola across from him was thinking. He did not demand an immediate answer. Instead, after seeing her fall silent, he rose to his feet and spoke to her.

"I'll give you three days. During those three days, feel free to contact your so-called High Table, or that Elder hiding in the Middle East. See how they intend to handle this. Or they can send people after me. I'll accept that too.

"I'll return in three days. If you still don't have the answer I want by then, don't blame me for losing my temper and wiping the Continental Hotel's so-called rules from this world.

"Believe me. When others say that, it may be empty intimidation. When I say it, it's a real threat."

As Sherlock spoke, he spread his hands. When his voice fell, red light flashed in his eyes, and scarlet lightning erupted from his palms. Continental Hotel gold coins poured down like a stream, clattering endlessly onto the floor.

Nearly every clang seemed to strike directly against Lola's heart, leaving her staring in stunned disbelief.

Seeing that he had achieved the effect he wanted, Sherlock did not waste any more of his Philosopher's Stone. After sneering at the dazed Lola sitting where she was, he turned and walked straight out of the manager's room on the top floor.

Until Sherlock left the New York Continental Hotel, no one dared step forward to stop him or speak to him. Nearly everyone avoided his gaze.

Only after the sound of the Raptor's engine gradually faded into the distance did the Continental Hotel return to its usual bustle.

Only after Sherlock had left did the receptionist dare rush toward the elevator and head for the top floor.

But when she pushed open the door to the room on the top floor, the sight before her left her dumbfounded. The hotel manager stood there with a dark expression, staring at the documents on the coffee table, while piles of Continental Hotel gold coins lay scattered across the floor at her feet.

If not for the complicated expression on Lola's face, the scene truly would have seemed lavish and decadent.

"Manager!"

The receptionist called out to Lola. Hearing her voice, Lola finally came back to herself somewhat. She rubbed her temples tiredly, then spoke to the receptionist standing in the doorway.

"Christine, contact the High Table. This is no longer something we can handle."

But after hearing Lola's words, the receptionist named Christine clearly seemed to have misunderstood something. Rather than acting immediately, she frowned, thought for a moment, and then said, "Manager, I don't recommend contacting the High Table. In supernatural incidents like this, the High Table's rules have no power to restrain them."

Clearly, Christine had misunderstood Lola's intentions, assuming that Lola wanted to contact the High Table because Sherlock had used force inside the hotel. But after hearing Christine's words, Lola gave a bitter smile. Pointing at the documents before her, she said to Christine, "Compared to what's in front of me, I'd rather that boy named Sherlock had torn down my hotel! Contact the High Table, Christine. Tell them I need an Adjudicator here!"

Hearing Lola say that, Christine could not hide the shock on her face. Following the direction of Lola's finger, she looked at the large circular eagle emblem on the cover of the documents resting on the coffee table, and her pupils shrank as well.

After swallowing, Christine said to Lola, "I will relay your request to the High Table exactly."

With that, she gave Lola a slight bow, closed the room's door, and turned to leave so she could contact the High Table.

Lola continued staring at the documents on the coffee table and muttered helplessly, "The world is afraid it's about to descend into chaos."