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The Adjudicator held a transcendent position within the High Table.
They could pass judgment on any affiliated organization-including Continental Hotels.
In many ways, the Adjudicator represented both the face and the will of the High Table.
The blue-and-black gold coin in Morin's hand came from the Adjudicator Winston had already killed with a single shot. Combined with the one Morin had obtained earlier-when he let the previous Adjudicator go-he now had two.
Morin compared them himself.
No difference. Not in numbering. Not in details.
He then asked Winston.
That was when a massive loophole in the High Table's management came to light.
The Adjudicators' identification coins had no special markings.
Which meant that as long as Morin's demeanor was convincing, his appearance flawless, and he used a mask to become a white European man-
He could impersonate an Adjudicator.
Winston was optimistic.
"No one's ever tried impersonating an Adjudicator for two reasons," he had said. "First, it's almost impossible to get one of those coins. Second, no one has the guts."
"So if you're willing to try, your chances are actually pretty good."
"Third," Winston added, "this gets you in-but not out. The Hawkeye organization will expose you in about half an hour."
Morin still chose this method.
Charging in and killing everyone was thrilling.
But infiltrating the enemy, standing inside their structure, and making decisions from within-
That was safer.
Getting blasted by heavy firepower could kill him outright. Or force him to leave this world early.
Even Sun Wukong chose to enter the Rakshasa's belly to cause havoc-
Rather than poking her from the outside with a staff.
"Of course, Mr. Adjudicator."
The receptionist took a deep breath, examined the coin carefully, and after confirming it matched the special Adjudicator coin in her memory, stood up.
"Please follow me."
Morin put the coin away.
He walked past everyone without sparing them a glance, as if they didn't exist, and followed the receptionist.
Once the elevator doors closed and began to rise, the assassins in the lobby collectively exhaled.
Whispers immediately followed.
"Why would an Adjudicator come at a time like this?"
"Did you notice? He didn't even look at us."
"Look at us? That wasn't contempt. That was dismissal. He ignored us completely."
"I hope he keeps ignoring us. Adjudicators don't come without reason. They deliver judgments."
"I just hope he's generous-and doesn't remember that we suspected he was a Templar Knight..."
At the mention of the Templar Knights, the lobby fell silent.
Then the whispers resumed.
"Do you think they'll really show up?"
"Two point two billion... I'm tempted."
"Tempted? You think you'll live long enough to spend it?"
"That's why I said tempted."
Even assassins liked gossip.
Among them, a few who hadn't spoken exchanged glances, stood up, and quietly left.
They were members of the Hawkeye organization.
"Please, Mr. Adjudicator."
The receptionist bowed and ushered Morin into the meeting room.
Morin stepped inside.
Despite the name, it looked more like a gallery-lined with antique artifacts.
A white-haired man stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him, staring at a piece on the wall.
"Sir?" the receptionist approached. "The Adjudicator has arrived."
"You may leave," the man said, waving his hand. "And close the door."
"...Yes?"
The receptionist hesitated. Something about his tone felt off. But he said nothing more, so she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
"Every Continental Hotel has a room like this," the man said, turning around and walking toward a transparent table, brushing the glass lightly with his fingers.
"It's for receiving important guests."
"And those with... ill intentions."
"A transparent table," he continued. "When you negotiate across one, you don't have to worry about someone pulling a gun from underneath."
"..."
Morin tilted his head slightly, then walked to the opposite side of the table.
The man looked straight at him.
"So tell me, Mr. Adjudicator," he said.
"Thirty years ago, I became the owner of the Rome Continental Hotel."
"Thirty years later, you're here."
"Are you here to judge me?"
"I've searched my conscience. In these thirty years, I've made no mistakes."
"I've always obeyed the High Table."
"Or..." his voice tightened, "are you here to replace me?"
Morin looked at him.
Speechless.
He had assumed the man suspected he was a fake.
Turns out-
He was just terrified of the Adjudicator's arrival.
If he wasn't afraid, he wouldn't be explaining himself like this.
And if that was the case...
Morin's gaze shifted slightly.
An interesting idea formed.
Exposure was inevitable. From the moment he entered the Continental Hotel, Hawkeye's Rome branch was already investigating him.
Sooner or later, they would discover he wasn't an Adjudicator.
That information would reach the High Table.
This was exactly why no one had ever dared impersonate one-Hawkeye was efficient. The window before exposure was short.
Even if someone obtained a coin and issued orders, they would be found out quickly.
But Morin only needed access.
He needed to get inside. To get close to the hotel owner.
And now-
Seeing how fearful and agitated the owner of the Rome Continental Hotel was-
A new thought took shape.
Gaius's eyes slowly widened.
Across from him, Morin's expression twisted.
Into a Dragon King smile.
On the face of an Adjudicator, it was absurd.
Terrifying.
But that wasn't the worst part.
From Gaius's perspective, Morin raised his hand.
Grabbed his own face.
And slowly-
Peeled it off.
Reality turned into a horror scene.
Before Gaius could react, the realistic mask had been completely torn away, revealing the face beneath.
Gaius nearly had a heart attack.
Not because the face was ugly.
On the contrary-Morin was undeniably handsome.
No.
Gaius panicked because he recognized that face.
He had seen it in countless documents.
He knew exactly who it belonged to-
The Templar Knight.
Morin.