Chapter 80 — A Gift from the Continental
In this world, some people are born with extraordinary talent, while others succeed through relentless effort.
Max was one of the rare few who possessed both.
She had a special ability to create miracles—
Like turning a man who had just spent an entire evening lecturing her about the dangers of clinical drug trials… into someone sincerely asking when her next trial would begin.
Ethan hadn't actually fallen asleep until well past midnight.
Now it was already 9 a.m. when he finally woke up.
The curtains in Max's bedroom weren't fully drawn, and the morning sunlight slanted across the edge of the bed.
The space beside him was empty.
The warmth was long gone.
As usual—Max had disappeared.
Ethan got up and walked into the kitchen.
Breakfast had already been prepared on the table.
Next to it sat thirty neatly packed cupcakes, lined up in perfect rows.
He searched the apartment for a moment, then glanced down at his phone.
No message.
No note.
Nothing.
He stood there for a few seconds before his mind automatically filled in Max's voice:
"Take the cupcakes yourself. I'm heading out."
---
After leaving the apartment Max shared with Caroline, Ethan didn't return home.
Instead, he went straight back to his clinic.
Carrying the cupcakes, he stepped out of a taxi—and immediately noticed a Dodge Challenger parked in front of his clinic.
Ethan couldn't help admiring it.
Wasn't this basically the signature muscle car of professional killers?
The wide black grille looked like a face ready to bite.
The sharp rectangular headlights had none of the softness of modern designs—only cold industrial lines.
The hood reflected the surrounding buildings like a mirror, making the car resemble a metal beast pinned down in the city.
Expensive.
Aggressive.
Territorially intimidating.
Just parking a car like that on the street seemed enough to make trouble keep its distance.
And beside the car—
Someone was standing.
The man wore thin-framed glasses. His face was narrow, his cheekbones sharply defined, and he was dressed in a dark suit.
He stood very straight, hands resting naturally before him.
Waiting.
He didn't look like a patient.
Nor like a bodyguard.
More like someone who represented an entire system.
Ethan slowed his steps ever so slightly—but still approached.
"You're here to see me?" he asked.
The man looked at him calmly.
"Yes, Doctor."
Ethan didn't ask further questions.
He simply turned and unlocked the clinic door.
"Please, come in."
The man entered with measured steps, carrying a quiet sense of authority.
He didn't look around the clinic.
Instead, he stood at the front desk while Ethan closed the door behind them.
The lock clicked.
Only then did the man speak again.
"Doctor Ethan Rayne."
Ethan nodded slightly.
The man adjusted his posture by a fraction, his tone becoming noticeably more formal.
"On behalf of the Continental Hotel, I offer our formal apology for the events that occurred in your clinic last night."
The air seemed to pause for a moment.
Ethan didn't respond immediately.
He was still trying to figure out what exactly this man wanted.
The man continued calmly.
"Although yesterday's incident was an attack on Mr. Marcus, it still affected your clinic."
"And more importantly, it constituted a serious violation of the rules—a breach of the Continental's promise to you."
"Our apology has already been formally delivered to Mr. Marcus, and he has accepted it."
Then he opened his briefcase.
"This is the full payment for his medical treatment yesterday."
"It will be covered by the Continental."
He placed an envelope on the counter with both hands.
The envelope rested at the edge of the desk.
Its thickness made it clear—
It was not light.
"Secondly," the man continued, "your request to Mr. Marcus has already been relayed on your behalf."
"Very soon, everyone will know the rules you have established."
"The Continental will provide full support."
He then took out another envelope from his briefcase and placed it neatly in the center of the desk.
"This covers the cleanup expenses you paid last night, as well as compensation from the Continental for the damage done to your clinic."
Ethan nodded to himself.
They really know how to handle things here.
He assumed that was the end of it.
But then the man produced a car key and gestured lightly toward the door.
"And this," he said calmly, "is an additional gift from management, intended to compensate you for the unpleasantness of last night."
Ethan: "…"
Wait.
The car outside… is for me?
The man continued.
"The ownership transfer has already been completed. The relevant documents are in the passenger seat. You may verify them at any time."
Ethan had received plenty of "gifts" in his life.
But an apology and compensation delivered with this level of thoughtfulness—
It was the first time he had experienced something like it.
It made him feel… genuinely respected.
The man paused briefly, his tone lowering slightly.
"As for further accountability regarding last night's incident…"
"The individual responsible for the operation—Perkins—has been confirmed deceased."
Ethan frowned slightly.
"Her death means that, along that particular contract chain, the Continental can no longer trace responsibility any further."
The man pressed his lips together for a moment.
"This is not an attempt to evade responsibility."
"It is simply the furthest boundary permitted by the rules."
The clinic fell silent again.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, stretching across the counter and casting clean lines of light and shadow over the keys and envelopes.
Leaning casually against the front desk, Ethan asked,
"So… does that mean the matter is over?"
The man looked at him calmly.
"From the perspective of the Continental's responsibility—yes."
"From the perspective of others… that falls outside our jurisdiction."
After saying this, he stepped back half a pace and gave a precise, distant bow.
"Once again, our apologies, Doctor Rayne."
"And thank you for respecting the rules last night."
He turned and left.
The door opened slowly, and the morning street swallowed his figure.
Outside, the black car remained parked quietly in front of the clinic.
It sat there as if waiting—ready to serve its new owner the moment Ethan gave the word.
Ethan glanced between the keys, the envelopes, and the car outside.
One absurd thought suddenly popped into his head—
Why does this feel like a crime boss being formally paid tribute according to underworld protocol?
Compensation.
Apology.
Gift.
Even a mount.
The entire procedure was so thorough it almost made him uncomfortable.
He looked down at his own outfit—casual clothes bought casually from chain stores: cheap, convenient, durable.
Then he looked back at the absurdly expensive black muscle car outside.
The contrast was almost comical.
He couldn't help muttering to himself:
"…At this rate, should I start hiring a few guys in black suits to stand guard outside my door?"
---
The car key had already been tossed casually into a drawer.
Test driving it?
Taking a victory lap around the city?
Enjoying a cinematic life highlight moment?
None of that was happening anytime soon.
The medicine inventory needed restocking today.
A new batch of antibiotics had to be rechecked.
The refrigerator temperature had fluctuated slightly earlier.
And two patient examinations were scheduled later.
If the boss who was also the only employee ran off to test drive his new car…
The clinic might as well close permanently.
Ethan crossed off "iodine disinfectant" from his supply checklist with a pen while mentally assigning the car a priority level.
I'll pay attention to you after work.
Sure, there was a little excitement.
A little anticipation.
But he calmly placed it into the category labeled:
Delayed gratification.
(End of Chapter)