Chapter 117 — Touring the Continental
After getting their suits, the two stepped out of the building one after the other.
John stopped at the entrance and turned to Ethan.
"I'm going to gather some intel," he said. "You're free to move around."
"At least until the job starts, we're safe. So—just act like a regular tourist."
Ethan nodded.
After John left, he stood there for two seconds and suddenly realized something—
he had no idea where to go.
He looked around, trying to find an obvious destination. There wasn't one.
After a brief hesitation, he turned and headed back to the hotel. At least there, he wouldn't have to pretend he had somewhere to be.
Ethan stood in the lobby of the Continental, originally planning to ask someone what there was to do in Rome.
But he quickly changed his mind.
Not because he figured out where to go—but because he realized the place itself was already worth exploring.
The hotel felt… quiet.
Not empty, but everyone seemed to exist in the "correct place."
Footsteps were swallowed by thick carpets. Conversations were lowered until only lip movements remained.
Every motion felt rehearsed.
Ethan wandered slowly, without purpose.
He stopped in front of a mural depicting a banquet.
Figures in ancient attire sat around a long table. There was no food—only instruments, knives, goblets, and seals.
He stared at it for a while.
"…Don't get it."
Then he moved on.
Behind a half-open door was a library.
No sign, but the door was open.
Ethan stepped in briefly, then came right back out.
At the end of the corridor, he noticed a man sitting on a bench.
Well-fitted suit. Injured hand—not fresh, but not fully healed either.
Ethan glanced at him.
The man looked back.
They held eye contact for a second.
No hostility. No friendliness.
Just a mutual acknowledgment—
the other person understood the rules of this place.
Ethan gave a slight nod.
The man returned an almost imperceptible one.
Conversation over.
After wandering for more than ten minutes, Ethan realized this wasn't working.
Not because he was tired.
Because he had no direction.
He felt like he was walking through a museum without context.
But this place clearly wasn't meant to be "visited."
He returned to the lobby.
This time, a younger receptionist was at the desk.
"First time in Rome?" the receptionist suddenly asked.
"That obvious?"
"The way you walk."
Ethan thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you… have a guide?"
"A guide?"
The receptionist froze slightly, as if hearing that question for the first time.
He looked at Ethan, then double-checked something.
"You're Mr. Ethan Rayne?"
"That's me."
"Please wait." His voice lowered. "The manager specifically instructed that your requests be handled personally."
Not long after the call ended, Julius stepped out from a side hall.
"Dr. Rayne." He nodded. "What do you need?"
"I've been walking around with no real purpose," Ethan said honestly. "Can I hire a guide?"
Julius paused—for just a fraction of a second.
"A guide?" he repeated.
"Yeah." Ethan nodded. "Just… show me around."
Julius fell silent for two seconds.
Not hesitating—just recalibrating.
"Gold coin?" he asked.
Ethan took one out and placed it lightly on the counter.
"This is the first time anyone has hired a guide," Julius said.
Ethan smiled. "Then I'm honored."
Julius gestured.
A female attendant stepped out from the side hall.
Her uniform was immaculate. Her expression calm. Her steps steady.
She didn't look like a regular staff member—more like someone temporarily assigned a role.
"Take Dr. Rayne on a tour," Julius said. "At his pace."
She nodded. "Please follow me."
The first stop was the restaurant.
She explained softly—it could accommodate nearly any dietary request.
Ethan wasn't hungry. He motioned to skip it.
They moved on to the bar.
The counter was set deep within the hall, lighting kept deliberately low.
No menu. No prices.
"What would you like to drink?" she asked.
Ethan slid the coin toward her. "You choose."
Soon, a drink appeared exactly where it should.
Amber-colored. Clear. Not a trace of condensation on the glass.
Ethan picked it up and took a sip.
It was good.
Not the kind of "good" meant to impress—
the kind that didn't need commentary.
He finished it in one go.
The glass was refilled naturally. No question. No confirmation.
Second glass.
Third.
He deliberately slowed down, observing.
The drink didn't change.
The service didn't change.
There wasn't even a hint of "additional charges."
Ethan finally looked up at his "guide."
"Wait," he said. "I've had three drinks already."
"Yes," she replied.
"But I only paid one gold coin."
"Yes."
Ethan frowned slightly. "So how do you charge here?"
"Dr. Rayne," she said calmly, "what you paid for wasn't the alcohol. It was the right to use the space."
Ethan paused. "Meaning?"
She gestured toward the bar.
"That coin allows you to sit here and drink."
"For as long as you wish."
Ethan glanced down at his glass.
"So if I drink all night?"
"It's still one coin."
"Until I pass out?"
"As long as you can remain seated," she added, "we'll ensure your safety."
Ethan went quiet for two seconds.
"That doesn't sound very profitable for you."
She shook her head lightly. "On the contrary. What's truly expensive isn't the alcohol."
"It's being allowed to relax."
Ethan let out a short laugh. "Then how do you stop people from taking advantage of that?"
"We don't," she said. "Because those who sit here—and those who serve them—can both afford the outcome."
That made Ethan pause. He understood.
"So," he said slowly, "if I make another request right now—"
"It wouldn't be covered by that coin."
"Got it," he nodded. "So this place doesn't charge based on consumption."
She met his gaze. "We charge based on boundaries."
I see… my pricing model really isn't the same as theirs.
Ethan thought for a moment, then decided not to change anything. I'll stick to my way. They'll stick to theirs. No interference.
The bar continued to run quietly. Ethan took another sip, then stood up.
Further inside was a dance floor.
The music wasn't loud—just a low, steady rhythm.
People were dancing.
Ethan stood at the edge and watched for a moment.
"What can you buy here?" he asked.
She didn't answer directly.
"What do you need?"
The implication was obvious.
"…Never mind," Ethan said.
She nodded.
They continued forward.
Lounges, private rooms, side doors not open to the public.
"This is the 'leisure area,'" she said.
"Red-light district?" Ethan raised a brow.
"Different nature. Similar direction."
"Would you like to take a look?"
Ethan thought for a moment. "Might as well."
She led him to the entrance and spoke quietly to the guard.
The guard bowed—but didn't move aside.
Ethan understood immediately and took out a gold coin.
Only then did the door open, polite and restrained.
Inside, someone took his coat.
He took a few steps—then noticed she hadn't followed.
"You're not coming in?"
"I'll wait here for you."
"You need a coin too?"
"Yes."
Ethan took out another coin. "We're already here. Might as well see it together."
She accepted it, passed it along, and followed him inside.
They walked around briefly.
When they came out, Ethan lowered his voice.
"…That was definitely eye-opening."
Back in the central hall.
"We've finished touring the hotel," she said. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No." Ethan handed her another coin. "Thanks for your time."
She didn't take it immediately. Instead, she glanced toward the front desk—Julius was still there.
He gave a slight nod.
Only then did she accept it.
"Thank you," she said.
Ethan replied, "That's my line."
When she left, she didn't look back.
As if she had never been there at all.
Ethan stood alone in the atrium.
Above him, night had already settled beneath the vaulted ceiling.
And suddenly, he realized—
Everything here had been defined as a service, then exchanged through gold coins.
Precise. Cold. Impeccable.
But—
missing something human.