Outside the Continental Hotel, Winston had been waiting for a long time.
Three days had passed since the Adjudicator, standing right in front of him, had spared his life after receiving a call from an Elder. When the news of the High Table's newest appointment reached him, Winston's expression had been one of pure bewilderment. He couldn't wrap his head around how an assassin—even a legendary one, the best in the country—could leap above the rules and become one of the figures who wrote them.
But no matter how illogical it seemed, the reality was undeniable. He could only accept it, sighing at the realization that he was growing old and failing to keep pace with the changing times. He knew that his survival was likely a result of John Wick seeking help from Shiranui Hayate.
As Winston stood lost in thought, a convoy of three Rolls-Royces glided to a halt at the hotel entrance. The valets rushed forward, pulling open the doors with practiced reverence to invite the guests inside.
Hayate stepped out of the lead vehicle.
The Adjudicator and his secretary, Hotaru, flanked him on either side. Behind them walked Umino Iruka, Rock Lee, and Uchiha Sasuke. Bringing up the rear were John Wick, Carlos, and Wesley.
Winston hurried forward, bowing deeply with profound respect.
"It is a tremendous honor to have you here, Elder Shiranui Hayate."
Hayate approached and gave Winston a brief, friendly embrace, smiling.
"Manager Winston, we are old friends. There is no need for such formality."
Hearing Hayate's familiar tone, Winston felt a slight weight lift from his chest, but he kept his respectful posture intact.
"You are now an Elder of the High Table. This is only proper. The rules must be observed."
Hayate chuckled at the mention of rules but said nothing more. A bellhop, sensing the moment, swung the heavy hotel doors open.
Winston gestured toward the interior with a slight bow. "After you, Elder Hayate."
Hayate did not stand on ceremony, leading the two women into the Continental.
Winston remained outside for a moment as Hayate's entourage followed. When John Wick passed by him, Winston whispered a single word:
"Thank you."
John didn't say much; he simply gave a short nod before following Carlos and Wesley into the building.
Inside the hotel, the Adjudicator led Hayate toward the dais of the grand ballroom.
The hall was packed with guests. Every major syndicate leader under the High Table's American jurisdiction was present, alongside several high-ranking politicians and officials supported by the Table.
The lone wolves and rank-and-file assassins, however, were notably absent. They lacked the standing for such an event; if they had been invited, the sheer number of them would have likely caused the Continental to burst at the seams.
As Hayate and the Adjudicator appeared on the stage, the room fell into a sudden, heavy silence.
The Adjudicator stepped to the microphone and adjusted the stand.
"Today is a momentous day. The High Table welcomes its newest Elder—Shiranui Hayate!"
A spotlight cut through the dim hall, illuminating Hayate. Every eye in the room fixed on him.
Curiosity rippled through the crowd. Over the past month, Hayate had set New York ablaze with blood and fire. He had eradicated the formidable Fraternity of Assassins, slaughtered the leadership of the Russian Mafia, and left a trail of bodies outside the very doors of this hotel.
Now, this man of overwhelming power had ascended to the pinnacle of their world. Some looked on with wonder, others with fanatical admiration, and some with quiet contemplation, as if seeing a new path forward.
The Adjudicator wasted no time on fluff. "I now invite Elder Shiranui Hayate to address the assembly."
She stepped aside, and Hayate moved to the microphone. He looked out over the sea of faces, his voice steady and echoing.
"Becoming an Elder of the High Table is a truly joyous occasion."
"From this moment, all of America is designated as my territory. The existing rules shall remain unchanged for now; everything continues as before."
"However," Hayate paused, letting the silence build. "In the coming days, I will be introducing something new to our world."
Hotaru, operating the central console, triggered a video on the massive electronic screen behind him. The footage showed a heavily wounded John Wick stepping into a paraffin bath. It cut to the next morning, showing him walking out completely healed.
"The Wax Bath," Hayate explained. "A miraculous treatment that stimulates white blood cells and accelerates the healing process. Bruises, deep cuts, even broken bones—all can be cured in a matter of hours."
"I, Shiranui Hayate, will bring this miracle to you. We will construct a specialized Recovery Room here at the New York Continental. Furthermore, two additional cities besides New York and Casablanca will be chosen to host these facilities."
"Henceforth, every faction and individual under the High Table will have access to this service."
The room erupted in applause. To these men of violence, a treasure that could drastically cut recovery time was worth more than gold. While they couldn't all have one at their own doorsteps, its presence in New York meant their top enforcers wouldn't be sidelined for months by a "hundred-day" injury. In just hours, they could be back on the front lines.
Hayate raised a hand for silence, and the room obeyed instantly.
"Now," he said with a faint smile, "I declare the banquet officially begun!"
Avoiding long-winded speeches or clichés, Hayate stepped down from the dais.
As he entered the main reception area, Hotaru approached him carrying a bottle of The Macallan Lalique 55-Year-Old Single Malt.
"A gift from Winston," she said. "Would you like to try it now?"
Hayate looked at the exquisite crystal decanter. "Hotaru, is it a single bottle, or the full set?"
Hotaru smiled. "The full set, Boss. This is just an extra bottle for the occasion. Shall I open it?"
Hayate grinned. An 800,000-dollar set, limited to only 420 units globally. Winston was indeed a man of taste. "Give Winston my thanks. He has a thoughtful heart."
As Hotaru moved to open the whisky, a massive figure approached. He was a mountain of a man, a white mountain of muscle and sheer presence weighing well over three hundred pounds.