Fox spoke up:
"If I'm not mistaken, that scar on his face looks fresh."
"Seems like this retired Boogeyman isn't all that impressive after all."
"So he's back at the Continental… planning a comeback?"
"If that's the case, I wouldn't mind collecting a little bonus. After all—"
Smith gently took her hand and said:
"See? You're getting ahead of yourself."
"The show hasn't even started yet."
Eddie returned with a glass of whiskey and a napkin with lipstick on it, along with an address scrawled in cursive.
"Compliments of the house."
Hearing that, John Wick turned toward the booth where Winston was seated—raising his glass in a silent toast.
Having received his first answer, John pulled a Continental coin and his phone from his pocket.
He opened a photo of the One-Star Dragon Ball and placed the phone on the bar.
"I want information on this item—or anything like it."
He pushed the coin toward Eddie.
Eddie picked up the phone and took a look. His eyes widened slightly.
After Smith Dole's earlier request, the hotel's intel network had been set into motion. No leads had surfaced yet—until now. He didn't expect John to show up with something so similar, and so soon.
Eddie pocketed the coin and said:
"Funny you ask. If you'd come before today, you'd probably leave empty-handed."
John raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Eddie continued:
"Just today, a guest submitted a request with a similar image."
"He left word that if anyone came asking about it, they should speak with him directly."
"And he's here right now."
Eddie pointed toward Smith Dole.
John blinked in surprise.
This wasn't the kind of intel he was expecting. He'd thought there'd be some dusty legend, maybe a few old records—not someone sitting a few feet away.
After a moment of thought, John turned and walked toward Smith's table.
Fox nudged Smith with her shoulder, teasing:
"Four million dollars is walking this way."
Smith chuckled, completely unfazed by the number.
As a legacy organization over a thousand years old, the Assassin Brotherhood held wealth and influence beyond imagination. Compared to that, money was trivial.
After all, the U.S. had only existed for a little over 200 years. Any artifact from the Brotherhood's founding was already a priceless antique.
John Wick arrived at their booth, placed his phone on the table, and said:
"Eddie told me you're the one to talk to about this."
The image of the One-Star Dragon Ball glowed faintly on the screen.
Fox glanced at it curiously, not recognizing the object. It looked like a crystal ball—but that was all.
Smith looked at the photo and smiled.
"Looks like you found the One-Star Ball."
John sat down, visibly shaken. He leaned in, voice low and tense:
"Is the legend true?"
Smith's expression didn't change as he nodded:
"It's real."
John took a deep breath, calming himself before speaking:
"Thank you for confirming."
"I don't believe I caught your name."
"I'm Jonathan John Wick."
Smith responded:
"Smith Dole. And this is Fox."
John composed his thoughts, then spoke:
"Mr. Smith, how much do you know about these objects?"
"Or more directly—do you have others?"
"If I wanted what you have, what would I have to offer?"
Smith studied him carefully.
"We are members of the Assassin Brotherhood. And what you hold is one of our sacred relics."
"John Wick, this place is not suitable for such a conversation."
He gestured toward the phone, then continued:
"Besides, you've got business to settle first. That's why you're here."
"And right now, you're our observation subject."
John's eyes narrowed slightly. He hesitated, then nodded.
"You're right. I've got something to handle. When should we talk about the One-Star Ball?"
Smith replied:
"When you're finished—come to Room 819 at the Continental. We'll discuss it in full."
John nodded and rose. He had someone to find: Iosef Tarasov, Viggo's son.
As he left, Fox turned to Smith with curiosity:
"Smith, what exactly is that One-Star thing?"
"And why is it one of our sacred relics?"
"Also… what exactly are we observing John Wick for?"
Smith waited until John exited the bar before standing.
"I'll explain it all to you later—just don't let your face give away too much when you hear it."
"As for what we're observing? We're going to follow him. See what he does."
Fox got up, leaned in close, and whispered into Smith's ear:
"There better be a damn good twist in this story."
"Otherwise... you're dead."
She twisted his side playfully with her fingers.
"Ow—!"
Smith pretended to wince, then smirked:
"Come on. If you don't hurry, you'll lose track of John Wick."
At that moment, John Wick was driving toward the Red Circle Club, his mind replaying his conversation with Smith Dole.
He had heard of the Assassin Brotherhood before—an organization operating outside the High Table. But they never accepted assassination contracts.
They were a legend in their own right—and terrifyingly powerful.
But he'd been out of the game for five years. His intel was outdated. Who knew how things had changed?
Still, he had a mission. He touched the Dragon Ball that now hung from his neck.
Helen... I will bring you back.
(End of Chapter)
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