Zhang Jie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end: "That pervert with the gold-rimmed glasses? Why would he…"
"Because you're my 'newbie' now." John interrupted him, his voice low and weary.
Zhang Jie sprang to his feet, nearly knocking over his coffee cup: "Wait, are you saying…"
"Continental Hotel rules." John struggled to sit up, the IV stand wobbling with him. "Every assassin needs a referrer. I gave you my card this afternoon, and you used it to get here tonight."
Veronica whistled: "Double authentication, little brother~ You're taken now."
Zhang Jie felt the world spin.
He was a rookie who was worrying about rent just this afternoon, and now he was suddenly the successor to a legendary assassin?
No, that's not right, he's taking him on as a newbie?
This was even more absurd than transmigration!
"What should I do then?" He heard his own voice trembling. "I can't even hold a gun steady!"
Indeed, someone with only 15 proficiency… John suddenly grabbed his wrist.
Despite his injuries, the grip was still incredibly strong.
"You only have one goal in this line of work, and that's to survive." His eyes were as cold as ice. "Once you choose this path, there's no turning back."
Zhang Jie's gaze involuntarily drifted to the window. Yes, even someone as strong as John was attacked four years after his retirement?
In a window of the building across the street, a reflection flashed.
Was it the reflection of a sniper scope?
Or was it his imagination?
"Why me?" Zhang Jie muttered. "I just saved a dog…"
He suddenly felt a bit of regret. This world was more complex than he imagined.
John released his hand and leaned back on the pillow: "Perhaps because…"
He retracted what he was about to say, hesitating for a moment. "You're the only one in four years who saved Daisy without any ulterior motive."
He's also like a human… Zhang Jie wanted to say that it was because he knew whose dog it was and was going to take a gamble, who knew it would turn out like this.
But what came out instead was: "Is it too late for me to retire now?"
John actually laughed.
Although that laugh made him cough for a long time.
"Too late." He wiped a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth. "You're now the newbie taken on by the Baba Yaga. That label is harder to wash off than a tattoo."
Veronica, with a lazy smile, leaned close to Zhang Jie's ear, her warm breath caressing his neck: "Don't worry, little brother~"
Her voice was sweet like poison. "I'll take care of you at the party."
As she left, she gave Zhang Jie a wink~
Zhang Jie froze. What was up with this woman?
Zhang Jie noticed Winston's expression had become unusually serious.
"John," Winston's voice suddenly became very soft. "Do you know why 'the Professor' is interested in the newbie?"
John's eyes darkened: "The High Table."
Zhang Jie felt his stomach drop to his feet.
The High Table… That wasn't a good name.
He recalled the three words John had said before he fell unconscious and suddenly understood something.
"So…" Zhang Jie took a deep breath. "Now I not only have to pretend to be a professional assassin, but I also have to attend a party full of people who want to test me?"
"Not entirely, it's just a test."
Winston handed him an exquisite envelope: "Invitation, tomorrow night at nine, Diamond Hall."
"You don't need to act like an assassin, you're not a professional assassin," he paused. "Dress code: formal."
Zhang Jie stared at the embossed Continental Hotel emblem on the envelope, then suddenly seemed to understand something and smiled: "Do you have a suit rental service?"
John took a key from the bedside table drawer: "My wardrobe, pick one yourself."
As Zhang Jie took the key, he noticed something in John's eyes that he couldn't decipher.
Perhaps it was anticipation, perhaps guilt, or perhaps just a side effect of the painkillers.
How strange… "Remember," John said finally, "In the Continental Hotel, the most important thing isn't marksmanship… Of course, if you have that kind of skill, that's fine too."
"Is it acting?" Zhang Jie interjected, suddenly finding all of this absurdly funny.
As he walked out of the infirmary, Zhang Jie realized his hands were no longer trembling.
Perhaps it was because the fear had crossed a certain threshold, or perhaps it was because he finally realized that in this crazy world, sometimes the safest identity was the one everyone thought made you dangerous.
"And, when others think you're dangerous, it's best if you really are dangerous!"
The next evening, in the hotel room.
Zhang Jie stood in front of the full-length mirror, muttering to himself as he tied his bow tie.
John's custom-made suit fit him like a second skin, the dark blue fabric gleaming with a subtle luster under the lights.
It fit surprisingly well. Were his and John's builds that similar?
This was probably the most expensive clothing he had ever worn in his life, if he ignored the two sweat-soaked patches under his armpits.
"Damn it, how do you tie this bow tie?"
The man in the mirror looked both strange and familiar.
The well-tailored suit certainly made him look presentable, but the undisguised panic in his eyes still betrayed him.
Zhang Jie took a deep breath, trying to recall fragments of the original owner's memories about formal occasions, but only remembered some scattered snippets: a cheap bar, a watered-down whiskey, and… damn it!
The original owner was useless!
Knock knock knock!
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Mr. Zhang," the waiter's voice came from outside the door. "Mr. John asked me to inform you that the party starts in twenty minutes."
Zhang Jie took one last look at himself in the mirror and suddenly noticed a line of small text embroidered on the suit lining: "JW - Custom Made in Naples."
"…"
This damned suit was worth more than all his possessions combined.
The thick carpet in the hallway felt unreal underfoot, like walking on cotton.
When the elevator door opened, Zhang Jie was startled. John was sitting in a wheelchair, still in a black suit, the gauze over his right eye replaced by a more discreet medical patch.
Winston stood beside him, holding a document.
And behind the wheelchair, Veronica was toying with the handle of John's wheelchair with her crimson-painted fingers.
"Wow," she whistled. "Little brother~ All dressed up, you actually look the part."
It had to be said, he did look quite handsome.
John looked up at Zhang Jie, a hint of recollection flashing in his eyes, then gave an almost imperceptible nod: "Your bow tie is crooked."
Zhang Jie fumbled with the fabric around his neck: "I hate this thing."
"You'll get used to it." John's voice was hoarser than usual. "Remember, tonight you only need to do three things: smile, nod, and don't touch any food."
Winston added: "Especially anything offered by 'the Professor'."
As the elevator descended, Zhang Jie felt his stomach and bow tie competing to see which could twist more.
When the elevator chimed and stopped on the ballroom floor, he clearly heard Veronica whisper in his ear:
"Relax, little brother~ You look like you're going to your own funeral right now."
[Danger Perception: Lv0 (15 → 18 / 100)]
The doors to the Diamond Hall were wide open, and the piano music and laughter emanating from within reminded Zhang Jie of gangster movies he had seen before, if the actors in those movies were all professional assassins who could pull out a gun and kill at any moment.
"Mr. Wick!" An elderly man with a monocle came forward. "I hear you've taken on an apprentice?"
John nodded expressionlessly: "Cummings."
"Oh? Hmm…" The old man's gaze swept over Zhang Jie like an X-ray. "An interesting choice."
Zhang Jie forced himself to smile, while mentally imagining the old man's wig as a toilet brush.
The party was even worse than he had imagined.