Chapter 20: Elder Cross
New York — Hell's Kitchen — The Lucky Dragon
A week had passed since the battle beneath the Eiffel Tower.
The High Table had spent those seven days in damage control — burning through political capital and backroom favors to appease the French President and keep the crisis from becoming an extinction-level event for their organization. The Marquis's family, caught between Fisk's forces, the High Table's own purge, and the French government, had been erased from history entirely.
Thanks to official suppression, the people of Paris never learned how close they'd come to nuclear annihilation. Life returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.
Only the underworld knew the truth: that Vincent de Gramont had betrayed the High Table, allied with extremists to destroy central Paris, and been stopped by the High Table's newest Elder — Ethan Cross.
That was right. As of two days ago, it was official.
And Ethan had come home to Hell's Kitchen and gone right back to his restaurant.
"You did all that cool stuff and didn't invite me?! You don't love me anymore!"
Wade had learned the details and was making his displeasure known by slapping the table repeatedly.
"It was a time-sensitive situation and you were off doing God knows what. I couldn't exactly send a search party." Ethan didn't even turn around, sipping his tea.
"I wanted to see if a nuke could kill me! Do you think it could? Next time something like this happens, you have to bring me along!"
"Honestly? Probably not. The planet could blow up and you'd just be floating in space complaining about it." Ethan rolled his eyes.
Footsteps at the restaurant entrance. Winston, John Wick, Caine, and a High Table Adjudicator walked in.
The Adjudicator approached the tea table, set down a briefcase, and opened it before Ethan.
"These are your Elder credentials from the High Table. Three Elder medallions, a set of Adjudicator coins, your personal verification card, and a secure phone for Elder communications."
"The three Elder medallions grant you authority over any High Table–affiliated operation worldwide. Present one, and they are obligated to provide full cooperation and service."
"The verification card contains your unique authorization code — required for issuing directives, posting bounties, or executing any official action through the High Table network."
"You also receive nine Adjudicator coins. Each represents one Adjudicator position under your command. Their identities must be registered with the High Table's central archives."
"The phone is for council meetings. Given your status, the High Table doesn't expect you to travel to headquarters for every session."
Ethan nodded, taking it all in.
Wade immediately snatched one of the Elder medallions, bit down on it — yep, real gold, nice tooth mark — and quietly slipped it into his pocket.
"Can these be replaced if they go missing?" Ethan asked.
The Adjudicator paused, clearly not expecting the question. "In the High Table's history, that has never occurred. But... it should be possible."
"Pietro. Put this stuff somewhere safe. And keep it away from a certain red-hooded klepto."
Pietro took the briefcase from the Adjudicator, shooting Wade a warning glare. Wade whistled innocently.
Neither Ethan nor Pietro made any move to recover the stolen medallion. Some battles weren't worth fighting.
The Adjudicator produced a second briefcase — this one packed thick with document folders.
"These are the Marquis's former assets, reassigned to you by the High Table. Given that you're based in New York rather than Paris, the council took the liberty of converting his European holdings into domestic equivalents."
"The first portfolio covers real estate across the United States, along with weapons caches and training facilities."
"The second contains equity positions from the Marquis's investment firms, plus various bond holdings."
"The third—"
"That's enough," Ethan cut in. "Send it all to Fisk Tower. I don't need the breakdown."
It wasn't that Ethan didn't care about money. He just didn't want to know exactly how much he had — knowing would make him lazy. Besides, no amount of money mattered in the Marvel universe. When Thanos showed up, Ethan couldn't exactly wave a check at him and say here's a hundred billion, please leave Earth alone.
Although if Thanos would take a hundred billion and leave... Ethan would find a way to get it. Kidnap Tony Stark if he had to.
The point was: he had more than he could ever spend. That was enough.
The Adjudicator, noting Ethan's indifference to wealth with visible respect, moved on. "These are the High Table's standing operatives stationed in New York — their personnel files and detailed profiles."
"Originally approximately one hundred. After the Hell's Kitchen engagement, which you personally... reduced, the number stands at just under thirty."
"They are a gift from the council of Elders, to be deployed at your discretion."
Ethan winced. "Yeah... maybe send them back. I killed a fair number of their colleagues. Having them report to me now would be awkward for everyone involved."
The Adjudicator had anticipated this. "If you decline them, they'll be ordered to commit ritual suicide. Accepting them would, in fact, be saving their lives."
Ethan paused. Then nodded.
Fine. He'd figure out assignments later. The community school would need security once it opened — they could do that. And Hell's Kitchen's streets could always use more people keeping things clean. Literally.
"Finally — regarding the reconstruction of the New York Continental. Do you have any preferences?"
"Location: the block next to this one." Ethan turned. "Winston. Come here."
Winston stood immediately.
"I don't think this man needs an introduction," Ethan said, presenting Winston to the Adjudicator. "Former manager of the New York Continental. As of now, he's one of my Adjudicators. He has full authority over the hotel's reconstruction."
Winston looked at Ethan with something that went beyond gratitude.
"Thank you. For avenging Charon. For giving me back the Continental. I won't let you down."
He meant it. He'd spent decades serving the High Table faithfully, only to be cast out by the Marquis on a technicality — his hotel destroyed, his most loyal man murdered. And Ethan, who'd known him barely a week, had not only avenged everything but handed him back the keys without hesitation. That kind of trust, after everything Winston had been through, meant more than he could express.
"Any requirements for the build?" Winston asked. "Design, layout, anything?"
"I trust your judgment," Ethan said. "One condition: all regular positions — servers, housekeeping, kitchen staff — hire Hell's Kitchen residents first."
Winston blinked. "I'm sorry — could you repeat that?"
"You heard me. Ordinary jobs go to ordinary people from this neighborhood. That's my only requirement."
Winston was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he looked at Ethan with something close to awe. Not a single demand for personal luxury. No executive suite, no VIP privileges. Just jobs for the people of Hell's Kitchen.
Winston bowed deeply — ninety degrees, right hand over his heart. The highest gesture of respect in the Continental's tradition.
"Your wish is my sworn duty. On my life."
「DING!」
「Congratulations, Host! Winston has been added as a friend!」
「Attribute Gained: Aristocratic Etiquette Lv.8!」
「Congratulations! Winston's Friendship Level has been upgraded to ★★★★★★ — MAX!」
「Winston has become FAMILY.」
「All of Winston's skills have been acquired. Pre-existing skills automatically upgraded by one level.」
「Future skill improvements by Family members will be mirrored to Host.」
「Family count: 2. Three more Family members until System Upgrade.」
「Keep up the good work, Host.」
Ethan stared at Winston, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected it to happen this fast. From stranger to Family in a single conversation.
Then again — sometimes loyalty didn't need time. It just needed the right moment.
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