Hogwarts’ John Wick

Chapter 580 580: 580: Welfare Home, Administrator

"Welcome to the Continental Hotel."

This was a hotel in London.

A man carrying a suitcase arrived there, his gaze wandering around the hotel as though he found the place very interesting.

At the front desk stood a gentleman with impeccably neat black hair.

He smiled and said, "How may I help you, sir?"

"Oh, ah, one moment." The man with the suitcase wore an extremely approachable smile. He opened the suitcase, took out a recruitment document, and handed it to the receptionist. "I received a recruitment notice."

"Mr. Greg." The receptionist accepted it and gave it a glance. After confirming everything was correct, he smiled at a waiter passing nearby and said, "Dicky, take this gentleman to see the boss."

Dicky nodded and gestured for Greg to follow him.

After he left, the receptionist picked up the phone.

"Boss, your applicant has arrived."

"Alright, Alfred."

The call ended, and a new guest approached the front desk.

The man was breathing heavily, with specks of blood staining his body. There was also a wound on his hand from accidentally cutting himself while holding a knife, the kind of mistake only an amateur would make.

Alfred's expression did not change as he smiled and asked, "How may I help you?"

"I need you to help me dispose of a body!" the man whispered, unable to stop himself from glancing around in panic.

The people in the hotel lobby ignored him completely, while some whispered to those beside them, letting out mocking laughter.

He looked like a child who had caused trouble and run over begging for someone to clean up the mess.

Alfred smiled and gestured for the man to come closer.

As the man approached the front desk, Alfred grabbed his head and slammed it onto the counter.

His skull made intimate contact with the desk. A chill touched his neck as a dagger capable of taking his life appeared there.

It had been pulled from his pocket.

"Please, don't kill me!"

The fear of death made the man scream and cry like a terrified child.

Alfred's smile disappeared. He leaned close to the man and spoke in an angry voice that was clearly trying to remain polite. "Listen carefully. If you want room service, you can make a call. This is a hotel, not a place that wipes the asses of little thugs after they cause trouble."

"Now, before I take the pistol out of the drawer, get out as fast as you can."

After speaking, Alfred released the man's hair, calmly straightened his clothes, and smiled. "We look forward to your next visit."

The man scrambled out of the hotel in a panic.

Alfred pulled out a tissue and wiped his hands.

Newly opened Continental hotels always attracted a few idiots.

Those troublemaking street punks all thought this was a place where they could do whatever they wanted.

They had no sense of rules whatsoever.

Taking a pistol from the drawer and loading a bullet into it, Alfred silently counted down in his heart.

"Three, two, one..."

The hotel doors burst open. The man who had fled in terror earlier had grown angrier the more he thought about it. He had returned to his car, grabbed a pistol, and come back.

He fired a shot into the ceiling and roared furiously, "Do you know who the hell I am? Get rid of that body for me, or I'll..."

Bang!

A bloody hole appeared between his eyebrows as his body collapsed backward.

Alfred picked up the phone and said, "One dinner order."

Not long afterward, the corpse was dragged away, and the blood on the floor was cleaned spotless.

Everything returned to exactly how it had been before.

...

"I came here to apply for the administrator position. Honestly, I didn't expect it to be a place like this."

Greg smiled as he spoke to Dicky beside him while being led away.

Unfortunately, Dicky remained expressionless and gave no response.

After walking for a while, Greg stopped and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, I think there may have been something wrong with the sandwich I had this morning."

Holding his stomach with an apologetic look, Greg's meaning was instantly understood by Dicky.

Dicky brought Greg to the restroom and stood outside with the same expressionless face.

Inside the restroom, Greg pulled a portable communication device from the sole of his shoe.

"I've already seen at least thirteen wanted criminals inside the hotel."

Recalling the people he had seen in the hotel lobby, Greg spoke into the communicator, "Are you sure you want me staying beside an invisible man?"

"A man who controls London's underworld and owns twelve hotels suddenly deciding to act charitable?"

The voice on the other end replied, "Watson Wick is not simple. Do you remember how he suddenly disappeared?"

"None of us know how he managed it. There were no underground passages anywhere near him."

"He simply appeared hundreds of miles away at a train station without any warning, grinning as he brought his wife back with him."

The person on the other end continued, "This man possesses an extremely brilliant mind. You need to seize this opportunity. It will be the best chance to uncover Watson Wick's secrets."

"The British government sealed off information about one particular incident involving him. You saw the report too, the open-flame explosion supposedly caused by a gas leak? Motherfucker, that place didn't even have a single gas pipeline!"

"Investigate him thoroughly. Find out what exactly he wants to do. You need to become the person closest to him."

"What about those wanted criminals?" Greg asked.

"That's part of the government's deal with them. They maintain order underground, so many things can be conveniently overlooked."

"Alright, I understand." Greg was now beginning to suspect that even if his boss learned Watson Wick intended to sleep with him, he would probably mail over a bottle of lubricant.

As a professional agent, Greg ended the call and walked back out of the restroom.

His expression remained perfectly normal as he joked with Dicky that he should not have left his sandwich overnight.

Soon, they arrived at a room on the top floor of the hotel.

Dicky knocked on the door and entered.

Greg's eyes immediately locked onto the sofa.

A man sat there with a deep expression, his fingers slowly rubbing an exquisite golden sphere.

"Watson Wick." Greg silently recalled the file that had arrived at headquarters the moment the hotel was established.

A man who had made himself invisible, turning himself into the gray area between black and white.

His bold actions had led to the birth of the underground kingdom, and several years ago he had swept away every opposing force with ruthless thunderous methods.

Yet before he revealed his capabilities, no one had believed that a financial manager could possess such depth and cunning.

Not even the once-powerful Wallace family had expected it.

A man like this surely had even more terrifying plans brewing in his mind at this very moment.

Was he planning to further monopolize the underworld?

Or target a particular country?

Or perhaps interfere in elections?

Greg felt the pressure grow even heavier the moment he saw Watson.

"Oh, Dicky, then you must be Greg."

Watson had been blankly wondering what to eat today.

After seeing the person he had recruited arrive, he stood with a smile and shook Greg's hand.

Greg was inwardly tense, but outwardly he remained warm and composed, no different from any ordinary applicant.

His wariness toward Watson only deepened further.

The switch was completely flawless. If I didn't already know who he was, I'd probably think he was some kind-hearted middle-class man.

Watson's completely natural behavior set off alarm bells in Greg's mind.

Pretending to be confused, Greg asked, "Hello, Mr. Wick. I didn't expect we would meet here."

"Oh, this is my hotel." After saying that, Watson looked toward Greg.

Greg reacted at once, opening his suitcase and taking out his résumé before respectfully handing it over to Watson.

Watson casually opened it and skimmed through it, appearing very satisfied.

After all, this was a perfect résumé created after attracting intense attention from headquarters.

"There's only one issue." After finishing the résumé, Watson set it down and looked Greg over. "Are you someone who can keep secrets?"

Greg's heart tightened. Had his identity been exposed?

He forced himself to remain calm and smiled. "I believe I can, Mr. Wick."

After all, this was one of the rare occasions his son needed a favor from his old man, even if not a single word in the request sounded remotely like asking for help.

Naturally, Watson became fully alert.

His scrutinizing gaze made Greg feel as though someone could point a gun at his forehead at any moment.

"You're hired," Watson said with a smile. "I assume you know where your workplace is."

"Though it may sound strange, I hope you won't mention that place to outsiders."

Watson smiled mysteriously. "I wish you a pleasant time at work."

Greg smiled and said, "I will, boss."

Watson patted Greg's hand, then lowered his gaze to Greg's leather shoes and casually remarked, "Nice shoes."

"But it's better not to indulge in luxury shoes like these too often."

Watson remembered Greg's work history. Buying shoes like that would probably require saving up for several months.

In his eyes, that kind of behavior was somewhat irrational, causing Greg to hold his breath.

After leaving the room, Greg could not help finally exhaling the breath he had been holding in.

Wiping away his cold sweat, he suspected Watson had noticed something.

Looking down at his shoes, he felt Watson had been hinting at his identity as an agent.

"Then again, for someone bold enough to turn himself into a behind-the-scenes boss, he must have already prepared himself for agents getting close to him."

Greg left the hotel and drove toward the address of the orphanage.

Unable to stop himself, he muttered, "You know I'm an agent and still dare send me there. What exactly are you relying on?"

Arriving at the orphanage, he looked up at the place, which resembled a school more than an orphanage.

"Silverhand Angel Orphanage."

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