Chapter 217: Service Provider

In truth, there was still a vast distance between what he had done and what Munni Fisher would find satisfactory. But she was familiar with how to deal with people like this—soft-hearted but unyielding to force—you had to probe their limits step by step, inching forward carefully.

Trying to achieve everything at once would only provoke resentment.

On the other hand, once he entered the Continental Hotel's system, used more services, and became more deeply involved, he would inevitably pay a higher price.

Everything is equivalent, so there's no need to rush.

In contrast to Munni's silent contemplation, the elderly resident physician, whose interests were directly at stake, asked with a strange expression: "Kid, you trying to steal my business?"

Henry quickly explained: "I don't want to stay inside the hotel—I want to set up a medical clinic or an underground practice outside."

"There must be plenty of people who can't get into proper hospitals. I can serve them. Of course, under the Continental Hotel's name or some approved cooperative arrangement."

Staying as the hotel's resident doctor might mean fewer troubles, but it would also mean being caged.

Moreover, those who enter the hotel have already been screened once—this contradicts Henry's original intent. He didn't plan to accept only gold coins for services, nor did he intend to treat only gunshot or blade wounds. Opening outside was the most suitable choice.

Besides, the streets of Los Angeles have been chaotic lately—that's what Old Gary told me. Not every injured person can just go home, slap on an OK bandage, or get into a legitimate hospital. That's exactly when black doctors are needed.

As for whether other troubles will arise, we'll see how things go. After all, this is something I've never done before, and the people I'll encounter are likely types I've rarely dealt with. This isn't something even a super brain can predict entirely.

Munni didn't answer directly but gave Charlie, the old gunman who constantly complained about retiring, a look. "You brought him—you teach him the rules. I'll handle the FBI matters."

Without caring for Charlie's expression as if he'd swallowed feces, Munni Fisher and her people left. Records of achievements and payment of rewards were handled by separate personnel.

Charlie, standing before Henry, rubbed his unshaven chin and said regretfully: "I regret not shooting you dead right then in that black man's house."

"Ha, you couldn't have." Henry mocked.

Charlie replied with disdain: "I know I couldn't have—even if I'd called in that vampire or mutant, the result would've been the same. But if I've offended you, this mess is no longer my problem, right?"

"Though I don't know that woman well, no matter whether we have any grudges between us, how likely is it she'd give you this job?" Henry asked.

Charlie let out a long sigh. "Don't bring it up." Then his tone turned serious: "Becoming a Continental Hotel service provider is simple."

"All you need is a sponsor, a clear idea of your service scope, and a place or phone number where people can find you—just register it in the hotel's communication ledger."

"But once you become a service provider, you must obey the High Table's rules. Though you had the choice to accept or decline before, once someone with gold coins seeks your help within your service range, you cannot refuse."

"The only valid reason to refuse is if you're already serving another gold coin client and have no spare capacity. If you have multiple refusal records, the Continental Hotel will exclude you—the consequences…"

He'd been about to sneer, but seeing the man in front of him—dressed in a garment riddled with bullet holes yet still hopping around—he looked like a defeated rooster, his head drooping slightly as he said: "All services will be closed to you forever."

After understanding, Henry tried to clarify: "So if I register as a healer, someone comes asking for a gun—I can refuse. But if someone comes for medical treatment, I can't refuse under any circumstances?"

"Exactly. Unconditional treatment—no questions asked about the injury's cause or the patient's background. The only exception is if the High Table or the Continental Hotel has issued a ban on serving that person. If you accept gold coins to treat them, you'll be considered a traitor too."

After Charlie's additional explanation, Henry asked: "Once I take gold coins, I can't charge anything else? I can't use gold coins to buy daily food, can I?"

Charlie replied: "Service providers who accept gold coins cannot charge any other fees—that's the rule. If you're short on money, the Continental Hotel offers an exchange rate of one gold coin for ten thousand nails."

"Some private exchanges might fetch a higher price, but usually no one dares. This exchange rate severely undervalues gold coins—some gold coin services can't be bought with any amount of money."

It's just like a bank buying gold or foreign exchange—the selling price and buying price differ, not because they're equal, but to prevent people from rapidly flipping and exploiting the bank's system.

Having understood his responsibilities and obligations, Henry didn't resist becoming a Continental Hotel partner.

Though he wasn't certain whether hidden dangers lurked behind these rules, at this stage, the Continental Hotel's power was among the most peaceful options to resolve the potential FBI problem.

At least it wouldn't force Henry to become a scapegoat, letting the FBI smear him with filth—or plunge him into direct conflict with the official forces the FBI represented, pushing him onto the path of a villain.

When problems can be solved through trade and wisdom, don't resort to fists. Even if super strength is the fastest solution under super brain logic, it's not necessarily the optimal one.

After thinking clearly, Henry asked: "So my sponsor is you?"

"No." Charlie shook his head, pointing at Henry's pocket where he'd stowed his things. "The man who just traded gold coins with you is."

"Mr. John Wick?"

"Barbary Gog," Charlie said, using John's nickname.

Though he already knew, this was the first time he'd heard it in this world. Henry feigned surprise: "Ah, him?"

"Yes. Though Barbary Gog never issued a gold coin demand for anyone to serve him, since he gave you your first coin, no one would be so rude as to make his sponsored newcomer look bad."

"So I've found a very powerful backer?" Henry probed.

Charlie doused him with cold water bluntly: "You're thinking too much. That favor works only once. If you truly offend someone, you'd better have Barbary Gog standing right beside you."

"Otherwise, whatever's meant to happen will still happen. Don't forget—they're mainly New York types, and this is Los Angeles."

"What a pity," Henry sighed.

(End of Chapter)