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After glancing at the handsome Slavic man and seeing that he had no objections, Henry made the introductions.
"Katharine, this is Mr. John Wick, a friend I met in Los Angeles.
"John, this is Ms. Katharine Hepburn, my employer. And that tabby cat is Katie, my pet."
John Wick looked at the enormous "tabby cat," which weighed well over six hundred pounds, with a peculiar expression.
It felt rather like someone pulling out an RPG and insisting it was merely a firework rocket.
Sure, both things flew into the sky.
But the similarities pretty much ended there.
The elderly lady had already stepped forward.
"Mr. Wick, it's a pleasure to meet you."
For one of the rare times, John Wick displayed an open, genuine smile.
Performing a gentlemanly hand-kiss, he replied:
"Ms. Katharine Hepburn, the pleasure is mine. You're one of the stars I've always hoped to meet in person."
"Preferably as I looked sixty or seventy years ago, right?" the old lady shot back mercilessly.
John looked immediately embarrassed.
His discomfort only made Katharine Hepburn burst into laughter.
Patting him firmly on the arm, she said:
"I'm joking. You don't mind, do you? I'm still happy whenever someone likes me, regardless of which version of me it is."
Before the somewhat taciturn handsome man could answer, she snatched Katie's leash out of Henry's hand.
"I'll take Katie for a walk. You two clearly have something to discuss."
Without waiting for Henry's approval, she gave the leash a playful tug.
"Come on, kitty. Take a stroll with this old lady. Don't interrupt their love confession."
Do you know what the greatest cultural impact of the translated anthology Love from Another Culture turned out to be?
It was that Japanese fujoshi culture invaded America ahead of schedule.
Though "ahead of schedule" wasn't entirely accurate.
As early as the 1960s, fan-written fiction based on Star Trek had already appeared in the United States, aimed primarily at female readers.
By the 1990s, such works had evolved into what Americans called slash fiction, published in specialized magazines.
But Love from Another Culture expanded readers' horizons.
American women began seeking excitement beyond domestic works.
And in doing so, they discovered Japan's flourishing boys' love culture.
Leaving aside debates over which country produced more explicit content and which favored subtlety, the novelty of an imported culture sparked a major trend.
It even expanded the female readership market dramatically.
What had once been a niche audience of one or two million readers grew into three to five million.
Translated foreign BL novels entered the American market and became enormously successful—
Well, not exactly publicly praised.
The era still wasn't particularly welcoming toward openly discussing such interests.
Even devoted readers often hesitated to talk about them in public.
But their wallets spoke quite clearly.
Katharine Hepburn, whose personality and outlook remained remarkably progressive, preferred painting to reading compared to the other Hepburn.
Yet she adored this sort of material all the same.
Which was exactly why she enjoyed teasing Henry and John Wick like this.
And for a man who granted nearly every request Katharine made, there were only a few things Henry absolutely refused to do.
One of them was reading those books aloud.
I am a Kryptonian.
If someone forced me to stand up and dramatically narrate this kind of literature, I'd rather reverse time itself, go back to the beginning, and wipe out the entire culture—along with its creators and distributors—before it ever existed.
Mass murder wouldn't even make me blink.
Fortunately, Katharine respected boundaries.
If Henry drew a hard line somewhere, she never forced the issue.
Her sense of proportion had reached an almost artistic level.
Of course, that didn't stop her daily nonsense and teasing.
Today's situation was no exception.
Making a disgusted face, Henry waved after the departing "tabby cat."
"Katie, take her farther away. Katharine needs twice as much exercise today.
"If she gets too energetic, her mouth becomes unbearable."
Leading Katie away, the old lady complained:
"Talking has nothing to do with how tired I am. Your little scheme won't work. You're only making me exercise more."
"Have mercy, Katharine. I can barely survive as it is."
The triumphant old lady departed with Katie amid the startled exclamations of nearby pedestrians.
Only then did Henry turn back to John Wick.
"John... actually, can I just call you John? Though I've already been doing that."
"Of course."
"Good. Then please tell me why you're here.
"I don't believe you came all this way simply to catch up.
"Or do you need my help with something? That would be fine."
John reached into his coat and withdrew an envelope.
With a trace of helplessness, he said:
"Today, I'm just a messenger."
Taking the invitation, Henry glanced at it.
"The Russian Mob?"
He hadn't forgotten whose side John had been on when they first met.
This time, however, Henry guessed wrong.
John shook his head.
"I'm delivering this on behalf of the New York Continental.
"Winston would like to meet with you."
"Winston?"
"Winston Scott. Manager of the New York Continental.
"The address is in Lower Manhattan—"
Henry finished the sentence.
"District Special, Manohway Street, Block 23, Building 2077.
"Right?
"I know where the New York Continental is.
"I just haven't felt particularly motivated to visit."
"Why not?" John asked in surprise.
Spreading his hands, Henry replied:
"My experiences with the Los Angeles branch didn't exactly leave me with fond memories."
"Munee Fisher, huh."
John nodded knowingly.
"She isn't easy to deal with.
"But Winston is different."
He lightly tapped the invitation.
"His perspective is much broader. He wouldn't make the same mistake."
"Is that so?"
Still skeptical, Henry opened the invitation and read it.
Meanwhile, John continued:
"Actually, Winston wanted to visit personally.
"But he doesn't know either of you very well.
"And he felt you'd dislike us bringing business to Ms. Hepburn's home.
"So inviting you to the Continental was the only option left."
"Fair enough."
Scanning the letter, Henry noticed something.
"There isn't a date listed.
"So I can come whenever I want?"
"Yes. Anytime."
"Alright. I'll stop by within the next few days."
Tucking the invitation into his coat, Henry asked curiously:
"Aren't you working for the Russians?
"Since when do you moonlight as a courier?"
John replied:
"First and foremost, I'm a contracted gunman of the Continental.
"Only after that am I muscle for the Tarasov Bratva.
"Viggo Tarasov recruited me.
"One of the reasons I work for him is that he has connections to people within the High Table.
"And because you and I already know each other, Winston asked me to deliver the invitation.
"He previously sent several people to find you.
"Apparently none of them had any success."
After spending so much time in Los Angeles avoiding police, the FBI, and assorted troublemakers, Henry had developed certain habits.
Whenever he sensed someone trying to conveniently bump into him, his first instinct was usually to disappear.
He had never paid the slightest attention to whatever happened to the Continental's previous messengers.
Instead, he asked:
"From Continental contractor to the High Table.
"You're trying to climb the ladder?"
That didn't sound much like John Wick.
John paused.
Then shook his head.
"I don't know whether I want a higher position or not.
"I'm simply following my instincts."
That sounded about right.
Nothing about John's behavior suggested careful long-term planning.
Most of his decisions appeared to be driven by impulse.
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