John Wick - Chapter 38: Judy (Patreon)

By the time Nate caught up to him in the lobby, John was already nearing the entrance.

He wasn't walking quickly, but every step carried an unmistakable sense of danger that made people instinctively keep their distance.

Charon stood behind the front desk, looking down as he sorted through something.

Several guests sitting in the lounge fell silent. Their eyes followed the black-clad figure for a moment before quickly turning away.

“Mr. Wick.”

Nate called out.

John stopped.

The hem of his black suit swayed slightly as he turned around.

Light from overhead fell across his face, carving his features into sharp contrasts of light and shadow.

He said nothing.

His eyes rested on Nate, as though wondering what he wanted.

Nate took a deep breath. His wildly pounding heart suddenly settled into a strange calm.

“Take me with you,” Nate said firmly.

Their eyes met.

John stood almost half a head taller, and there was an inexplicable pressure in his gaze.

One of John's eyebrows moved slightly.

“No.”

“I can help. I'm new to the business, but I've already taken down more than twenty people.”

Nate did his best to sell himself.

“That's impressive. But I'm sorry. No.”

John's voice was even firmer this time.

His hand lifted slightly.

The knuckles were prominent, his nails trimmed short, with a thin layer of callus between his index and middle fingers.

Nate's attention fell on that hand.

That was the hand capable of killing three men in a bar with nothing but a pencil.

“All right.”

Nate stopped pushing the issue, but immediately continued.

“But Mr. Wick, you should take a look at some of the hotel's newer equipment.”

“Your gear's a little outdated.”

Nate spoke rapidly, gesturing nonstop with his hands.

“How about a bulletproof suit?”

“There's probably not enough time to have one made, but I have a spare bulletproof suit I can lend you.”

Watching Nate pitch the bulletproof suit like an overeager salesman, John understood that the young man genuinely wanted to help.

His gaze softened slightly.

“Thank you.”

Then, as concise as ever, he asked, “Why are you helping me?”

“I'm a fan. Is that a good enough reason?”

John looked directly into Nate's eyes without saying anything.

Nate cautiously tried another question.

“What room are you in? I'll stop by in a little while.”

John was silent for a moment.

“818.”

“Got it!”

Nate gave an enthusiastic wave.

John had already stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, he gave Nate a slight nod.

The elevator slowly began to rise.

Charon looked over from the front desk with a smile.

“So, how does it feel to meet a legend?”

Nate grinned from the bottom of his heart.

“Awesome.”

Nate returned to his room and took a suit hanger from the closet. He placed the dry-cleaned bulletproof suit inside a garment bag and hung it up.

The suit was black. Its fabric felt no different from that of an ordinary suit, but Nate knew some kind of ceramic composite material was layered inside.

It was one of this world's pieces of advanced technology.

Even rifle rounds couldn't penetrate it.

He had taken it during the operation to rescue Lily. It was a little too large for Nate and never quite fit him properly.

It should fit John pretty well.

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

Three light knocks.

Nate glanced through the peephole and immediately opened it.

Elena stood outside.

She wore a black suit over a black shirt. Her long golden hair was tied into a low ponytail, though several loose strands had fallen around her ears, as though she had been in too much of a hurry to fix them.

Her eyes were visibly red.

So was the tip of her nose.

There were still traces of tears clinging to her eyelashes.

Nate froze for a moment.

“What happened?”

Elena didn't answer.

Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her jaw trembled slightly.

She stood outside with both hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

“Come in.”

Nate stepped aside.

He already knew why she looked like this.

Elena walked inside, her steps somewhat unsteady.

She sat on the edge of the sofa without leaning against the backrest. Her body leaned slightly forward, her hands resting on her knees.

Nate closed the door and poured her a glass of water.

“Judy's gone.”

“She was my friend. We grew up together.”

Elena's voice was barely above a whisper, as though she were afraid of waking someone.

Nate sighed.

Judy.

He remembered her.

The girl at the reception desk outside the twelfth-floor gym, the one with two little canine teeth that showed when she smiled.

“Judy didn't even have a gun. She wasn't cut out to be an assassin.”

Elena stopped for a moment.

Her throat moved as she swallowed, grief and anger mixing in her voice.

“She couldn't even fight back!”

“Those two assassins were after Henry.” Nate closed his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist. “Henry was on the twelfth floor. They came to kill him. Judy recognized one of them, so...”

“If Judy hadn't been outside, Henry and I would've been completely unprepared for the assassination attempt.”

“It wasn't your fault. Killing inside the Continental is forbidden!”

Elena's eyes turned sharp as blades.

“The High Table.”

She practically ground the words out through clenched teeth.

“They're the ones who made that rule.”

“You don't kill inside the Continental. You just don't. That's an absolute rule.”

“Winston repeats it every day. Every guest who checks in is told. Even the people washing dishes in the kitchen know it.”

Her voice finally rose, carrying the anger she had been suppressing for far too long.

“They kill whoever they want, and the rules mean nothing to them.”

“They make the rules, then break them because they think they're above them.”

“What about Judy? What did Judy ever do wrong?”

Her voice finally broke on the last sentence.

Elena lowered her head, and her body began to tremble.

Nate pushed the tissue box toward her.

She pulled out two tissues and pressed them against her face.

Her shoulders shook as she cried for nearly half a minute.

Then she wiped her face hard, crushed the tissues into a ball, and clenched them in her fist.

Her voice came out muffled.

“Winston adopted me. I'm grateful to him.”

“But I've always thought this whole business was twisted. A bunch of people pretending to respect each other inside a hotel, then walking outside and hunting each other down.”

Nate leaned back against the sofa and listened quietly.

“But some people are different.”

Elena looked at him.

“You know John Wick?”

Nate immediately caught the name, and his eyes lit up.

“What do you mean? What's different about him?”

“I first saw him seven years ago. I was eleven. He was talking to Winston in the underground bar.”

“I was bringing them drinks. When I walked over with the tray, he looked at me.”

“That's it?” Nate asked.

Elena rolled her eyes at him, though there was no real bite behind it.

“John Wick is different from most assassins.”

“He doesn't take contracts on innocent people. He doesn't kill women. He doesn't kill children.”

“He's been in this business for years and holds the record for the most kills, but he's never slaughtered good people just for money.”

Her voice softened on the last sentence.

The room fell quiet for a moment.

“I've been here for eleven years,” Elena continued, her voice growing firm again. “I've seen a few so-called legends.”

“They retire, come back, die, or retire again. Every one of them thinks they're cool.”

“But John Wick is different.”

She squeezed the soaked ball of tissue in her hand even tighter.

“He's focused.”

“He knows what he is. He knows what he's doing. And he knows where all of this leads.”

“He doesn't enjoy killing.”

“But when he does kill, he doesn't hesitate. And he doesn't stop, because he believes it's the only way to solve the problem.”

“To be honest, sometimes I think he's the most principled person in this entire world.”

Nate looked at her.

She had been crying only moments ago, but now, as she talked about John Wick, there was a different light in her eyes.

It was as though, in a world rotten to the core, she had found someone who wasn't.

Even if his hands were covered in blood.

“I've made up my mind,” Elena said.

“After this, I want to do something.”

“Not for myself.”

“For Judy.”

“I'm going to visit him in a little while. Want to come?” Nate asked.

Before he had even finished speaking, Elena's eyes practically lit up.

“Really? Take me with you!”

“You're going to meet him looking like you've been crying?”

Nate pointed at her eyes.

Elena vigorously rubbed them a few times, then slapped both cheeks lightly.

“How about now?”

“Still red.”

“Then tell him it's an allergy.”

“An allergy to what?”

“The High Table.”

Nate opened his mouth, then laughed.

He got up, went into the bathroom, and returned with a cool towel.

“Put this over your eyes. It'll help.”