After expressing his thanks, Winston left Smith's table and found an empty booth to sit down in, picking up a newspaper to read.
Smith turned to Fox and asked, "Who's the unlucky guy that got the bounty?"
Fox glanced at the message she had received and replied, "A guy named John Wick."
Hearing the name, Smith chuckled. "He's the one I brought you here to observe today."
Fox looked puzzled. "Observe? I thought you were planning to collect the bounty yourself. But what's there to observe in a retired hitman?"
Both Smith and Fox were familiar with the name "Baba Yaga" John Wick. Smith had introduced him to Fox when they first explored the workings of the Continental Hotel.
Fox had little regard for the Continental's assassins. In her eyes, the Assassins' Guild was made up of Robin Hood-like heroes—especially after learning that a mission failure had once caused a tragedy in her family, reinforcing her belief in the Guild's ideals. Though they'd lost the Loom of Fate, they still carried out their mission.
In contrast, Continental assassins were just rats selling their lives for money. She saw a clear difference between the two. And in terms of skill, members of the Guild far outclassed the rest—particularly agents like Mr. X and Cross with their outrageous sniper abilities.
Smith, noticing her disinterest, simply said, "Take your time. You'll understand soon enough."
-Meanwhile...
After dealing with a wave of Viggo's hired killers, John Wick drove to the Continental Hotel.
Carrying a briefcase in his left hand and a canvas bag over his right shoulder, John walked toward the front desk to check in. His steps were steady, but his face was grim, his body radiating killing intent—clearly, he'd taken many lives the night before. He was like a volcano ready to erupt.
As he reached the reception, a female assassin who had just checked in turned around and greeted him.
"Nice seeing you again, John."
"I feel the same, Perkins."
After a brief exchange, John checked in while Perkins exited the lobby.
Settled into Room 818, John took out his phone to watch a video of his late wife. Then he pulled out the Dragon Ball from his pocket and muttered, "Helen, if this thing is real, I swear I'll wish you back."
He placed the Dragon Ball into a drawstring pouch, sealed it, and hung it around his neck—keeping it close, the safest place he could think of.
After preparing himself, he left the room and made his way to the hotel's underground bar.
At the entrance, he dropped a Continental coin into the slot and stepped inside.
As he entered, he scanned the room and noticed something strange—there wasn't a single Black assassin around. That raised his brow. Normally, the Continental had a large number of Black hitmen; their absence was suspicious.
He walked further in, nodding at Perkins again when he passed her.
Eventually, he spotted Winston sitting in a booth and approached him directly.
"Hello, Winston."
Winston folded his newspaper and looked up with a smile. "Jonathan."
John Wick's full name was Jonathan John Wick. Most people called him John Wick, but those close to him preferred "Jonathan."
As John sat down, Winston removed his glasses and said, "If I recall, you're the one who never cleans up a mess."
John smiled faintly. "More or less."
Winston eyed him and asked, "What brings you here?"
"Losef Tarasov," John replied.
Winston raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"
"I want to talk," John said.
Winston took a sip of his whiskey and echoed, "Talk, huh? I've heard that before, Jonathan."
He studied John closely, then asked, "Let me ask you have you truly turned over a new leaf?"
John, calm and composed, answered, "Just visiting."
Winston's tone became serious. "Have you thought it through? A clean break? You escaped once, but you're in too deep. You might find a way out—but it'll only pull you in deeper."
Ignoring the warnings, John interrupted, "Where can I find him?"
Seeing his persistence, Winston finally said, "You know the rules. Don't bring blood into my house, or face the consequences."
He took another sip, then added, "Have a drink first. Relax."
He picked up his pen, ready to write down the address, but John stood up and interrupted again. "It's personal."
As John walked off, Winston shook his head, thinking to himself: "You really think they'll ever believe you're retired just because you walked away?"
John headed to the intel counter at the bar.
Eddie, the bartender, exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my God, Jonathan!"
"Hey, Eddie."
Eddie pulled him into a quick cheek kiss. "God, it's been four years, hasn't it?"
"Over five," John corrected.
Eddie leaned in, curious. "So how's retirement treating you?"
"It's been good," John replied. "Better than I deserve."
Eddie's tone shifted. "Hey... I'm really sorry about your wife…"
"Thank you," John cut him off.
Eddie looked at him seriously. "I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?" John asked.
"Worn out," Eddie said gently.
John took a deep breath and replied, "I'm retired."
Eddie chuckled and said, "If you're drinking here, you're not."
Then he gestured at the liquor shelf behind him. "The usual?"
"Yeah," John nodded.
Back at the booth, Fox glanced at her phone, then looked over at John Wick and said, "Smith, his price just went up four million dollars."
"Oh, and they're throwing in four Continental coins as a bonus."