Chapter 115 – Bound for Rome
A rare, spur-of-the-moment "trip."
But Ethan quickly realized something—
As an adult, you don't get the luxury of just "leaving on a whim."
The weekend was right around the corner.
John ran through the timeline roughly—this trip would take at least three to four days.
A full weekend, plus two working days.
Even being away for just two days would already start tipping things toward trouble.
The clinic. The patients. The schedule.
Each one came with responsibilities you couldn't just shrug off with a casual "I'm not here."
Helen helped him sort everything out.
In the end, it turned out much simpler than expected.
Only two appointments actually needed adjustment.
Push them back by a day, and the issue was resolved.
Helen made the calls quickly. Everything went smoothly—no complaints.
"Alright." Ethan closed the schedule book. "All set."
John didn't nod.
He didn't even react.
He just looked at Ethan, his voice low. "Doctor… I still think you shouldn't go."
"Why?" Ethan asked.
"Because it's dangerous."
Ethan met his gaze. "And if you go alone, it's not?"
"If I go alone," John said calmly, "I have no distractions."
"If I bring you… it limits me."
So I'm a liability, huh.
Ethan sighed inwardly.
But he also understood—next to John, almost anyone would be a liability.
"Don't worry."
There was no annoyance in his voice, just a simple statement of fact.
"I have ways to keep myself alive."
"You don't seriously think I can save others but not myself, do you?"
John fell silent for a moment, then changed the subject.
"You really plan to… bring Gianna back after fulfilling the oath?"
"Yes."
Ethan answered without hesitation, as if it were obvious.
"You said she's High Table—and your friend."
"So if I'm making connections, shouldn't it be with people like that?"
After saying that, he looked at Helen.
She didn't answer immediately, lowering her gaze in thought.
"This is exploiting a loophole," John said.
"Where there are rules, there are always loopholes," Ethan replied casually. "As long as we don't break them, we're fine."
He paused.
"And honestly—we'd just be helping them improve their system."
"Before us, their contracts probably just said 'kill the target.'"
"After us… maybe they'll start being more specific. Like—'kill the target how many times.'"
John's brow furrowed even deeper. "If you do this, your ability will be exposed."
"They don't know yet that you can revive others."
"They already know," Ethan said calmly. He had full confidence in S.H.I.E.L.D.—no way only half the truth had leaked. "They just don't believe it."
"And sooner or later, they'll find out anyway. It's only a matter of time."
He looked at Helen again.
"What do you think?"
Helen thought for a moment, then finally spoke.
"There are pros and cons."
"From a purely safety standpoint, John going alone is the safest option."
She paused.
"But risk often comes with reward."
"Ethan's approach to making connections isn't wrong."
"At least for now… the benefits outweigh the risks."
She turned to John, her tone sharpening.
"John."
"No matter what—"
"You cannot let anything happen to Ethan."
A brief silence followed.
John nodded. "I won't."
"Alright." Ethan clapped his hands lightly. "Then it's settled."
"Let's book the tickets."
He paused, then smiled.
"I've never been abroad before."
The last time he'd almost left the country was when he nearly ran off with Missy—and that had been headed for Mexico.
This time, he was finally going to Europe.
See the world a little.
Reading ten thousand books wasn't as good as traveling ten thousand miles.
The next day, when the plane landed at Fiumicino Airport, it was already afternoon.
Rome didn't have New York's constant, tightly wound energy.
The air carried a faint dampness—lime, stone, and the dusty scent of an old city that had stood for centuries.
The buildings lining the road were low and old, their walls weathered and mottled with age.
The two of them got into the car.
John took the passenger seat, the brim of his hat pulled low. He didn't look out the window.
Ethan noticed.
"You've been here before?" he asked.
"Yes."
"On jobs?"
"Many."
Ethan nodded and didn't press further.
A city John had walked through countless times… at least they wouldn't get lost.
Outside the window, stone walls, arches, and streetlamps slipped past one after another.
Ethan watched the scenery, his thoughts gradually drifting, slipping into that quiet, absent-minded state where the mind simply… wanders.
"Here we are."
After saying that, the driver fell silent.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of the Continental Hotel.
Ethan looked up instinctively.
The first thing he noticed was the door.
Tall. Heavy. Dark—almost black.
It felt like something preserved intact from a much older era—not for decoration, but for defense.
A deep red carpet covered the steps leading up to it. It didn't look new, but it was spotless, clearly cleaned again and again.
On either side of the steps, attendants stood perfectly straight in dark uniforms, hands folded, eyes forward.
They didn't feel like staff.
They felt like part of a ritual.
John stepped out first.
With a single glance, he took in everything—the steps, the shadows under the portico, every possible gap in the surroundings.
Ethan got out after him.
One attendant approached silently, opened the trunk, and placed the luggage neatly to the side.
Another was already at the door, bowing slightly.
"Welcome to the Continental."
Ethan noticed how quiet it was.
No tourists. No onlookers.
The entire street felt… isolated by some unspoken rule.
This place belonged to another world.
The heavy doors opened, then slowly closed behind them.
The sounds of the street vanished completely.
Inside, the lobby was quiet—not empty, but controlled.
The lighting was soft, the ceiling high, yet there was no unnecessary decoration.
Everything was exactly where it should be.
A few guests lingered around the hall.
Some sat on sofas, drinking quietly. Others stood near the columns, speaking in low voices.
No one rushed. No one raised their voice.
When John and Ethan entered, no one looked up.
This didn't feel like a hotel.
It felt like neutral ground—something everyone present had silently agreed to respect.
An attendant led the way.
John walked ahead, steady and familiar.
Ethan followed behind and quickly realized something—
The entire atmosphere here was saying one thing:
Don't cause trouble.
And if someone did—
The consequences would be severe.
They stopped at the front desk.
A woman in a dark suit looked up, glanced at John, and gave a small nod.
When her gaze moved to Ethan, it lingered for half a second.
"Welcome to the Continental, Rome branch."
Her voice was soft. "How may I assist you?"
"I need two rooms." John placed two gold coins on the counter.
The receptionist reached out and took them.
At that moment, a voice came from behind them—
"John."