Winston continued,
"In fact, the body is cooling… just behind this wall."
The female Adjudicator looked at him coldly and said,
"I want to see him."
Winston nodded and led her to the cremation chamber where Santino D'Antonio's body was being kept.
When they arrived, the corpse was lying atop a transport bed, ready for cremation.
The Adjudicator stared at the lifeless body and addressed Winston,
"Santino D'Antonio… a newly appointed member of the Takadai Shou (High Table), killed by Mr. Wick while seeking sanctuary in the Continental Hotel."
She then leaned in to inspect the fatal wound on Santino's forehead and murmured,
"Looks like a .45 Colt automatic."
After identifying the weapon used, she stood up and looked directly at Winston.
Meeting her gaze, Winston offered an explanation,
"I couldn't control Mr. Wick's actions."
But the Adjudicator retorted,
"Yet he's alive because of you, isn't he?"
Winston admitted calmly,
"Yes."
Seeing his honesty, the Adjudicator continued,
"You've known Mr. Wick for many years. It wouldn't be wrong to say you're friends, would it?"
"You didn't stop him. You didn't kill him."
"You stood by and let him walk away… right after he murdered Santino D'Antonio in your presence."
Sensing the tone shift, Winston grew tense and quickly responded,
"I excommunicated him from the Continental."
But she wasn't finished.
"And yet… you still gave him an hour to escape."
Winston's voice was less confident now, though he still said,
"He broke the rules… in my hotel."
The Adjudicator frowned and said,
"That's exactly the problem—your hotel."
"Where does your loyalty lie?"
Winston, facing her unwavering stance, explained,
"I've served for over forty years…"
She stared him down and solemnly declared,
"Under the High Table. Serving the High Table. Everything under the High Table."
"I know you are loyal. But that does not excuse what happened."
"Let me make it clear—I'm here to judge you."
"You have one week to get your affairs in order."
Winston was stunned.
"What did you say?"
She went on,
"At that time, your successor will be nominated."
"Rules are the only thing that separate us from—"
Winston finished the line,
"From the animals."
The Adjudicator nodded,
"Exactly."
"You have seven days."
As she turned to leave, she paused after a few steps, looked back at Winston and said,
"In the meantime, if you need any assistance during the transition, I'll be in Room 217."
Winston stared at her and responded,
"Enjoy your stay at the Continental."
She gave him a final, deep look before walking away without another word.
Winston now understood the gravity of his situation. For aiding John Wick, the High Table planned to strip him of his position. At best, he'd be allowed to name a successor. At worst, it would cost him his life. He couldn't sit back and wait for fate to decide.
······
Conference Room.
Smith Dole sat in contemplation, weighing how to dismantle the High Table. A direct assault on all twelve families wasn't feasible—even the Assassins' Guild lacked the manpower for that.
After all, these twelve families were the most powerful crime syndicates in the world. Attacking all of them would trigger a unified retaliation. Better to sever one finger than injure all ten.
The Assassins' Guild could hit three simultaneously. After that, they'd be bracing for a counterattack.
Smith scanned the list and began selecting three primary targets.
Just then, the conference room doors opened.
Setting down the files, Smith looked up at the entering figure and said,
"Sit here."
John Wick took a seat across from him and gazed silently.
Smith asked,
"Are your injuries fully healed?"
John reached up and touched his shoulder and neck, replying,
"Completely. Not even a scar remains."
"The recovery chamber here… it's incredible."
Smith nodded—he had confidence in the chamber. Then he said,
"To truly deal with the High Table, we must erase the power structures behind the Twelve Seats."
"Killing the elders alone does nothing. They'll simply elevate successors from their bloodlines."
"Even if the main branch is gone, they'll promote new leaders from lesser lines."
"So we need to eliminate the organizations behind them."
John's face grew serious. Things were more complicated than he expected.
"What do you need me to do?"
Smith explained,
"We've located the headquarters of eleven out of the twelve factions. But one still eludes us."
"We've traced this elder's location to somewhere in the desert of Casablanca."
"But the exact spot remains unclear."
"I need you to find it."
John thought for a moment before responding,
"I know there's an elder based there. But I'm not sure how to locate them."
"However, if I go alone, I stand a good chance of being granted an audience. If I go with others… they won't meet me."
Smith wasn't surprised and replied,
"We'll travel to Casablanca together. But the search for the elder—you must do that alone."
"Find him. And keep yourself safe."
John then asked curiously,
"It's the desert. How will you find me afterward?"
Smith smiled and said,
"You just need to bring a Doragon Bōru (Dragon Ball). It will guide us to you."
Hearing that the Dragon Balls had a tracking feature, John nodded thoughtfully.
At that moment, Smith pulled out a photo and placed it in front of him.
"This is a high-ranking member of the Casablanca Continental. She's your friend."
"She currently possesses one of the Dragon Balls. She's one of your targets."
John looked at the photo of Sofia and was visibly surprised. He hadn't expected her to have a Dragon Ball—but recalling the blood pact she owed him, things might be easier than expected.
······
(End of Chapter)
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