~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

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After dealing with jet lag and catching up on several days of missed work, the girl turned in early to rest.

Henry, meanwhile, made a trip to the Continental Hotel—and deliberately entered through the front door.

The fact that he could walk in without issue confirmed he hadn’t been excommunicated like John Wick would be in the future—cast out of the system, marked for unlimited assassination by all contract killers until death.

At the front desk, the concierge greeted him with a professional smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Henry Brown. How may I assist you?"

Henry placed a gold coin on the counter and slid it forward.

"Is Charlie in the café? I need a cup of coffee to wake myself up. Been a long day—things are a bit... fuzzy."

"Mr. Fisher is at his usual table. You’ll find him there. I’ll have your coffee prepared—double espresso?"

"Perfect. Much appreciated," Henry said with a smile, heading toward the café.

---

Along the way, quite a few people pointed at him.

Some were familiar—like the woman from the airport who had tried to stab him with a syringe.

But inside the Continental, business and violence were forbidden. No deals, no revenge killings. So everyone kept their distance.

Henry didn’t bother provoking anyone either.

As for the two burly men who had been chased by police earlier—they were here too. Which meant they’d managed to escape.

Their expressions were full of resentment, like they wanted to walk over and punch Henry.

They didn’t.

Because they didn’t dare.

---

Ignoring the crowd of would-be tough guys, Henry entered the café.

Charlie Fisher sat in a tailored suit, looking every bit like a dignified figure from The Godfather—one of the respectable Corleone family men after the war.

Honestly, if not for Mooney Fisher, Charlie had more than enough presence to be a boss himself.

Henry approached and, with the polished manners of a British gentleman, greeted him:

"Good afternoon, Charlie. May I sit?"

"Please."

As soon as Henry sat down, a waiter arrived with his coffee.

"Mr. Brown, your double espresso."

At the Continental, service always followed payment. No coin, no service—no exceptions, no matter how familiar you were.

Since the coin had already been paid, Charlie got straight to the point.

"I heard you took a sniper round to the head. Direct hit?"

Henry smirked. "You could ask the sniper if he’s willing to admit he missed."

"The armory manager got quite the complaint. Tungsten rounds couldn’t penetrate—what, are we supposed to bring out anti-materiel rifles and treat you like a tank?"

"Please don’t," Henry laughed. "One shot today already gave me a headache. If you bring out something like that, I’m dead for sure."

"If I believed that," Charlie said dryly, "my IQ would be lower than Forrest Gump’s."

"Relax. That guy’s too kind to mock anyone."

---

After a bit of banter, Henry asked, "So—what’s my bounty?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Thinking of collecting it yourself?"

"If it’s high enough, why not?"

"Unfortunately," Charlie said, "it’s only one hundred thousand dollars. Any more, and that family you nearly bankrupted couldn’t afford it. Or rather—they’re not willing to."

"About what I expected," Henry nodded. "Otherwise you wouldn’t have sent such... underwhelming attempts. If you’re coming after someone like me, shouldn’t you at least bring proper equipment?"

Charlie clicked his tongue. "I should record that and play it for them. Might boost morale. Though first, they should probably thank you for sparing their lives."

"I can’t exactly fight back," Henry said innocently. "I’m just... durable."

Charlie gave him a look.

"Honestly," he continued, "you should just grab an Uzi with an extended magazine. Next time someone comes for you, charge straight at them. Once you’re close enough, unload. With your... ’talent,’ that tactic would be unstoppable."

Whether Charlie knew more than he let on—or genuinely thought that was the optimal strategy—neither of them pressed the matter further.

---

Henry asked, "Am I the only target?"

"Worried about escalation? Collateral damage?" Charlie shrugged. "Accidents can happen, sure. But one target, one contract. Unless specified, extra kills don’t mean extra pay. That’s the rule."

"No unlimited pursuit, right?"

Charlie widened his eyes dramatically. "What did you do—anger the heavens?"

"From that family’s perspective, I probably did worse."

"Relax," Charlie said. "If enough contractors report failure due to... uncontrollable factors, the bounty can be canceled. That means the difficulty exceeded expectations.

"At that point, the client either gives up—or increases the reward. More money attracts better killers—or more expensive methods.

"You don’t think people run this business at a loss, do you? Nobody’s spending a hundred grand bounty just to buy a nuke to kill you. Risking your life is one thing—paying out of pocket is another."

Henry sighed. "I’m more worried that a low bounty makes idiots think I’m easy prey. I’ll get harassed nonstop."

"Again—don’t worry," Charlie said. "If a contract remains incomplete past a certain time, we cancel it ourselves.

"Because if it can’t be done within the timeframe, that means the difficulty was underestimated. No extra pay, no deal."

Henry asked, "But I’ve seen bounties stay open for years. What about those?"

"Special cases," Charlie replied. "Usually tied to the High Table—violations that demand death without end.

"Most contracts have a deadline—no more than thirty days. You won’t see a target with a bounty hanging over them for eight or nine years before someone finally completes it. That’s not allowed. The hotel would step in.

"Many contracts are time-sensitive. Like a crime boss wanting a defector killed before trial. If the hit happens after the trial’s over and the boss is already locked up—what’s the point?

"So just last a month," Charlie finished. "Not too hard, right?"

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