Chapter 136: The Difference Between Reality and Film

A few days later, once John Wick had fully recovered, Melin took him to the Continental Hotel. After all, he was the one involved. In his past life, Melin had really enjoyed this film series. Since they had met, lending a helping hand didn't seem like a big deal.

John Wick was shocked. He knew the state of his own injuries—without ten days to half a month, even getting out of bed would be difficult. But now, just a few days later, he had completely recovered! Even his scars were nearly gone.

Adding to that, Melin had forced the people from the High Table to back down. His gratitude toward Melin deepened.

"Thank you…"

"How many times is that now?" Melin said with a wry smile. This stubborn mule had thanked him countless times over the past few days. He'd told him not to worry about it, but Wick just wouldn't listen. No wonder he was known as the most stubborn mule in the assassin world.

"But I… still want to repay you. I can leave you a blood marker," John Wick said.

A blood marker was the highest form of contract under the High Table—sealed with blood. Possessing one allowed the holder to request anything from the other party at any time. John Wick's current situation was because of a blood marker.

Over the past few days, Melin had learned about John Wick's backstory. This was essentially the beginning of the third movie's plot, but with major changes.

Other than Winston giving him one hour to escape, Wick had received no help. So, once that hour was up, he was hunted down relentlessly—collapsing at Melin's doorstep and, by coincidence, being saved. Without that, he'd be dead by now.

"What? Haven't you suffered enough from a blood marker already?" Melin asked teasingly.

…

…

"…I trust you wouldn't abuse it. And… I now understand that unless I die, I can never leave this life," John Wick said.

Melin was stunned—not because of Wick's trust, but because of the latter part of his sentence.

Was this… the difference between reality and film?

In the movies, John Wick was a full-on brute. He never wasted words and always resorted to violence. His thinking was too straightforward—easily manipulated. In the third movie, for example, after going through countless hardships, he finally found the Elder, the leader of the High Table. He was tricked into cutting off his finger and sent to kill his friend Winston.

Then, when he arrived, Winston manipulated him again into turning on the High Table.

And when the rebellion started to work, Winston betrayed him to preserve his own position.

But now—this stubborn mule had actually realized the truth. That was a monumental change. It was also a grim truth of the real world: being a hitman was a one-way road. Once you stepped in, there was no way out.

But… that only applied to ordinary people. For Melin, it meant nothing.

"Is that so? Maybe you're wrong," Melin said with a mysterious smile.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see soon enough."

John Wick fell silent. After spending these few days with Melin, he had become familiar with some of his eccentricities—like being cryptic.

But he also knew Melin didn't lie. If he said Wick would find out soon, then he definitely would.

…

At the Continental Hotel, Winston and the Adjudicator were already waiting.

After realizing the hidden meaning in Winston's words, the Adjudicator immediately contacted her superior and reported everything.

She was scolded harshly—why hadn't she reported this earlier?

Indeed, her assignment had always been to judge Winston and John Wick for violating the High Table's rules. But during the process, she encountered Melin and, greedy for greater glory, decided to meet with him on her own.

So before she reported anything, her superior—the true leader of the High Table—knew nothing about her encounter with Melin.

As the actual head of the High Table, he knew far more than his subordinates, including Melin's true identity.

When he heard that Melin would personally visit the Continental Hotel, he almost exploded on the spot. He immediately ordered the Adjudicator and Winston to treat him with the highest respect and grant all of his requests—and to invite him to their headquarters afterward.

"Winston, who do you think that man really is?" the Adjudicator asked. She had never seen her superior so angry and panicked before. A man who could determine countless lives with a single word—shrouded in mystery and said to be extremely powerful—was now in a frenzy.

"How would I kno—wait." Winston snapped, but then something clicked. His pupils shrank.

"You thought of something?"

"…No, it can't be. If it really is him, he shouldn't be here…" Winston began pacing in panic, talking to himself.

"What exactly are you thinking?" the Adjudicator demanded angrily.

"Shut up, woman! If my guess is right, you've caused a massive disaster! Not even the High Table will be able to save you! You'd better pray he's not petty," Winston roared. His tone lost all previous politeness.

"You!" the Adjudicator glared at Winston, not expecting him to speak to her like that. She still held judgment over him.

"What are you staring at?! Just carry out the High Table's orders and don't get noticed by him. Maybe then you'll survive. Otherwise… heh." Winston wasn't afraid anymore. To him, she was just a doomed woman. If the man in question was in a good mood, maybe he'd spare her. If not, she'd be stew.

Soon, a taxi pulled up in front of the Continental. Melin and John Wick arrived.

The Adjudicator and Winston glanced at Wick in surprise, but quickly plastered flattering smiles on their faces as they welcomed Melin.

"Welcome, Mr. Melin. We've prepared the highest-class reception for you. Please, come with me," the Adjudicator said, rushing ahead of Winston.

"I'm not a fan of crowds. No need for a party. This is just a minor thing—no need to make a big deal of it."

Melin genuinely had no interest in such events. A group of people dressed to the nines but full of treachery and false compliments? Boring.

"Uh… understood. I'll cancel it immediately." The Adjudicator paused but complied, albeit unwillingly.

Once she left, Winston finally got a chance to speak.

"First time meeting you, Mr. Melin. Welcome to the Continental."

"You recognized me?" Melin asked with a half-smile.

From his Cosmos sense, Melin felt fear from both the Adjudicator and Winston—but it was a different kind of fear. The Adjudicator feared the High Table, while Winston feared Melin himself. That was interesting.

"I was only guessing before, but now I'm certain," Winston replied.

"How funny. She did so much work and still didn't recognize me. Yet you, someone about to be stripped of his post, did. Seems the people above you are quite blind," Melin teased.

"You flatter me, Mr. Melin. Please, this way—it's still quite hot in New York this August."

"Sure." Winston led Melin and John Wick to the finest reception room.

Since the Adjudicator hadn't returned yet, they didn't get into serious talk right away and chatted casually.

"Relax, Winston. I'd like to think I'm quite handsome," Melin joked.

"Haha, if you're not considered handsome, then no one in the world can be," Winston replied with flattery.

The joke helped ease Winston's tension. He hadn't expected this living god to be so humorous.

"John, I'm glad to see you're still alive," Winston said to John Wick.

"Thanks. He saved me." At this point, John Wick was still grateful to Winston. After all, the one-hour head start had saved his life.

"To be honest, I envy you. Dangerous as it was, I wish it had been me he saved instead," Winston said.

"So who is he really?" John Wick asked. The question had been on his mind for days.

Winston paused, then looked at Melin.

So this guy still doesn't know which god saved his life? Talk about not knowing how lucky you are!

Since Melin hadn't introduced himself directly, Winston didn't dare say much. Only after getting a nod from Melin did he respond, "John, all I can tell you is that this gentleman is from Athens, Greece."

"Greece? Athens?" John was confused.

Seeing that John Wick hadn't grasped it, they didn't elaborate.

Winston knew Wick was laser-focused—an iron-headed brute. He rarely cared about things unrelated to his missions.

Just as John Wick was about to ask more, the Adjudicator returned, so he had to hold his tongue.

"Apologies for the delay, Mr. Melin. Looks like you were enjoying the conversation."

"Not bad. Winston's quite capable. You people actually have some good judgment," Melin said.

The Adjudicator froze, feeling deeply awkward.

That same sentence—spoken in a different situation—carried a totally different meaning.

Winston, being the sly old fox he was, understood and felt grateful. Melin was indirectly protecting him.

"That's his honor. I'll be sure to report your praise to the higher-ups," the Adjudicator replied with a forced smile.

"Alright, let's get to the point. I want you to lift the kill order on John," Melin said.

"Mr. Melin, as you know, Mr. Wick violated—"

"Of course, no problem at all, Mr. Melin."

The moment she spoke, Winston knew she had messed up and quickly cut her off. He cursed her stupidity—trying to negotiate? She must have a death wish.

The Adjudicator was about to scold Winston for interrupting and ignoring the High Table's interests.

But seeing the frantic signals he was giving, she swallowed her words. She'd deal with him later.

"That's better. We'll be leaving, then."

"Please wait, Mr. Melin. The High Table has a request. We hope you'll accept."

"Oh? The true head of the High Table? Interesting. Alright, when?"

"Thank you for accepting. We'll send someone to pick you up in three days. Will that work?"

"Sure."

With nothing else to do, Melin left with John Wick. The Adjudicator, fuming, went to question Winston about cutting her off.

But Winston gave her just two words—and she nearly collapsed on the spot.

"Athens. Sanctuary."