Ex Hunter Current Queen, All That's Left Is the Actual Battle - Chapter 3

Translator: White Lotus 

“Sex. I was just curious if you’ve done it.”

“Does that matter? What, you gonna disqualify me from the medical exam because of it?”

Francis pronounced the word ‘sex’ so deliberately that Jackson couldn’t help but snap. He hadn’t intended to laugh, but a snort of disbelief escaped him anyway.

This bastard. Thought he was some prim aristocrat, but turns out he’s a complete lunatic.

The rebellious hunter twisted his lips into a smirk, his fiery gaze bearing down on Francis. Whatever the man’s intentions were behind such a question, Jackson knew full well that showing weakness now was out of the question.

“Haha… No, no, of course not. It’s not related to the physical exam. Just my personal curiosity, you could say. I’ve actually never met an ordinary human before.”

Those deep blue eyes, which seemed capable of drawing someone in, sparkled with curiosity. Francis didn’t seem to realize how much his innocent question, without a trace of malice, was getting under Jackson’s skin.

“Then I have no obligation to answer, do I? What are you gonna do with that information anyway? What, you wanna sleep with me?”

Jackson responded to the rude question with equally sharp insolence. If nothing else, he was prepared to get under Francis’ skin with his words.

Maybe this guy thought I’d just laugh it off even if he sexually harassed me because I’m desperate for cash. But he’s way off base.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that this was a client, Jackson would’ve slapped him across the face right then and there. He bared his teeth in a menacing grin.

In contrast, Francis remained unfazed, smiling brightly as he replied.

“With me? You? Haha! Why would I do something as filthy as sex? Jackson, once you get your down payment, stop messing with that and get yourself a love machine.”

Francis’ light, clear laughter echoed after his words. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, more like someone reacting to a ridiculous joke.

Jackson Carter was an intriguing man. Like an untamed wild animal, he hid his claws well and could appear calm, only to bare his teeth and claws the moment anyone got even a step closer. Knowing he was dangerous, yet provoking him just to hear that growl—it was too entertaining to resist and not to poke at him repeatedly.

“Fine, whatever. I’m just a filthy thug, after all. I prefer a good, hot fuck, so do me a favor and mind your own business.”

“Haha… You really do have a way with words. But hey, that’s great. Hot, huh? That’s perfect….”

Jackson didn’t hold back, his abrasive personality showing in full force in response to Francis’ so-called genuine advice. Hearing Jackson’s curt tone, Francis realized the conversation was over and turned away with a slight smile.

As he moved, his short, glossy blonde hair swayed, releasing a pleasant scent into the air. In contrast, Jackson reeked of cheap cologne that stung the nostrils. The two men couldn’t have been more different. If an alien species unfamiliar with humans had seen them together, they might’ve mistaken Jackson for some lesser subspecies of Francis.

“Well then, I’ll see you after your physical exam. I’ll be accompanying you all the way to the Arachron territory.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jackson’s reply was deliberately stiff, and he remained rooted in place, standing like a statue as he watched Francis walk away.

The automatic doors slid open, and the shining blonde figure of the New Human receded into the distance. In just a few moments, the doors closed again, and Francis disappeared entirely from sight.

“Ha… What a fucking bastard. Can’t believe the shit that comes out of his mouth.”

Sex? He actually asked me if I’d had sex? Unbelievable.

The moment Francis vanished, Jackson cursed under his breath and fumbled in his pockets. His headache flared up as his temper rose, and in times like this, nothing calmed him like a cigarette.

He’d stayed behind in the conference room just to avoid walking alongside Francis. The older hitman waited until he was sure the New Human was gone before he left the room, purposefully striding down the hallway with heavy steps.

As soon as Jackson walked through the building’s front doors, he pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips.

Bending his head slightly to light it, a few stray strands of his unkempt hair fell across his forehead, swaying in the breeze. His downward gaze revealed the faint, hidden crease of double eyelids, making his sharp features appear somewhat softer. Still, there was a hardness to his face that even the slight change in expression couldn’t hide.

“Ah, damn it.”

Just as Jackson was about to light his cigarette, he felt numerous eyes boring into him. He looked up. Smoking in a non-designated area was a quick way to get hit with a fine. Citizens, always eager to report illegal activity, had stopped in their tracks, staring at the unfamiliar man with suspicious eyes.

Jackson scowled, biting down on the end of his unlit cigarette. Shoving the lighter back into his jacket pocket, he mounted his motorcycle. Only then did the gawking pedestrians resume their business.

Hypocritical bastards.

Among the ordinary humans, those who were fortunate enough to be born into money and good homes managed to live alongside the New Humans in the city, acting as though they belonged there. Jackson didn’t have a high opinion of them. No matter how hard they tried to please the New Humans, the fact remained that the New Humans saw them as dirty and repulsive.

Just like that bastard Francis from earlier.

He’d expected to be looked down upon, maybe insulted. But to be sexually harassed with such a sunny, innocent face? Jackson regretted not giving him a harsher response as he sped down the road.

Once he made it out toward the slums, he could smoke anywhere—on the street, on the stairs, wherever. All he wanted was to take a deep drag from his cigarette and wet his throat with a stiff drink.

When you thought about it intently, it made sense to classify humans as a subspecies of the New Humans. They shared the same habitat, but the two species didn’t interbreed.

Not that the distinction mattered much—New Humans didn’t reproduce through sex.

Risking one’s life for sex that only heightens the danger of various infections and diseases was a relic of a bygone era. It was a foolish act of people resorting to all sorts of efforts just to win over their partner for a mere exchange of bodily fluids. It was absurd.

In contrast, the New Humans were born with superior intelligence, their beauty unmatched, and they were almost immune to disease. They satisfied their sexual needs quickly and efficiently through machines, never letting lust lead them to foolish decisions.

They were the pinnacle of humanity. It was no wonder people called them the New Humans. And naturally, they came to dominate human society, throwing it into unprecedented upheaval.

Those who, like his parents, couldn’t resist attraction and desire and ended up having children without any plans, were unable to escape the cycle of poverty. In his childhood, Jackson endlessly resented his impoverished and irresponsible parents. He had done countless jobs just to survive, eventually finding himself in the situation of working under a killing robot as his boss.

“Hah…”

Jackson let out a low sigh as he opened the door to his home. The memory of the first time he’d destroyed another living being with a gun still sent shivers through his body every time it crossed his mind.

Bang. The sharp sound that scraped at his eardrums, the trembling hands. And the pitiful remains of something that had once been alive.

That was why he had to quit this cursed job as soon as possible. Every time he finished a mission, he was plagued by endless mental anguish. It didn’t take long before people like him either broke down or became shells of themselves.

The middle-aged man, weary from exhaustion, stripped off his clothes as soon as he entered his home and poured himself a drink into the cup that had been left abandoned on the coffee table. The strong scent of whiskey filled the air, the golden liquid swirling in the cup as it sloshed down, stirring a sense of quiet anticipation in him.

“The more I think about it, the more pissed off I get,” Jackson muttered as he took a sip. Francis might have worn an innocent expression, but underneath it, he was as cunning than anyone else. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to strike someone in their weakest spot like that without being a schemer.

Francis had carried the assumption that, because Jackson was just an ordinary human, he must naturally enjoy stripping others bare and indulging in filthy pleasures. Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered Jackson as much if he’d never actually been intimate with anyone before. But the moment Francis asked his intrusive question, Jackson couldn’t help but think back to his first experience.

He couldn’t recall when or where it happened, but he remembered it as a rushed, messy, and vulgar memory. He couldn’t even clearly remember the other person’s face.

In a society where sex was stamped as a vulgar pastime, it was no wonder his young self had been wracked with guilt for days afterward. He’d fallen into lust a few more times since then. But each time he went through the motions of those fleeting and exhausting encounters, the more certain he became that this wasn’t for him. Drinking and passing out drunk felt like a better option.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried the love machine Francis had suggested, in that preachy tone of his. But whether it was a general aversion to machines or just the sheer disappointment at how it felt worse than using his own hand, he never touched the thing again.

“Does he take me for a fool? Give me 1 billion ral and see if I ever come back to this godforsaken city.”

One glass after another. The more Jackson drank, the more his sour mood began to lift, little by little. He soon stopped bothering with the glass entirely, taking the whiskey bottle itself and sinking deeply into the couch, letting the alcohol numb his frustrations.

If I get my hands on 1 billion, first, I’d buy a car…

Once he started listing out all the things he wanted, it seemed endless. On any other day, he’d have looked down at his coworkers for daydreaming about winning the lottery, dismissing it as a hopeless fantasy. But now that he was in a position to imagine it himself, his hands trembled.

Afraid that saying anything might jinx it, or worse, that the scavengers would catch wind of his newfound fortune and swarm him like parasites, Jackson hadn’t mentioned this mission to anyone.

How do rich people ever sleep soundly? There’s no shortage of people waiting to stick a knife in their backs or siphon off their wealth.

Taking another swig from the bottle, Jackson reflected on how lonely it must be to come into a huge sum of money. It was funny, really, how everyone wanted to do something that they couldn’t tell anyone about or receive congratulated for.

Not that it would make him turn down the opportunity. Ask him if he’d give up this chance, and he’d call you crazy. Life, after all, was about coming in alone and leaving alone. Life’s inherently lonely, so at least having plenty of money was a consolation.

“I’ll finally get to touch some real cash. My life’s about to take a turn for the better… at last.”

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, the end burning quickly as the smoke filled his lungs. Jackson didn’t bother turning on the lights. He just sat there, grinning to himself, basking in the brief satisfaction nicotine brought him. He’d have to give it up soon enough for the physical examination, so he figured he might as well indulge while he still could.

*****

“Are you ready?”

Francis’s soothing voice tickled Jackson’s ear. They were sitting across from each other, but Jackson’s eyes were fixed on the window. Outside the city, everything was pitch black. Crossing from the known world into the unknown always made his heart race.

The problem was, it wasn’t the excitement of curiosity—it was the dread of fear.

“I have been ready since three days ago.”

Hiding fear was the mark of a seasoned hunter. A killer always had to maintain a cool head, and even if he was terrified, he could never let it show. Jackson deliberately gave a nonchalant reply, his eyes tracking the shadows disappearing into the darkness.

In the distance, Jackson could see the city he had left behind. It was so bright that the glow beyond the horizon resembled a giant star. The night sky around the city was streaked with blotches of pink, a result of light pollution, creating a peculiar kind of scenery.

Leaving behind a civilization where light pollution was a major environmental issue, he was now headed to the kingdom of monsters, a place that still upheld a monarchy. Though it was fortunate that there was no need for an environmental adaptation period since this mission was on an inner planet, the sheer amount of money at stake meant that unforeseen dangers were likely lurking.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck,” Francis said, a gentle smile on his face. He ran his delicate hand along the car window and added one more thing.

“When you eliminate the queen, someone favorable to us will take the throne.”

“Is that so?” Jackson replied indifferently, showing no interest in the politics of it all. After Francis’s inappropriate remarks last time, he had no desire to engage in any small talk with him. But despite Jackson’s apathetic response, Francis, who seemed to be endlessly amused, continued to encourage him.

“You can do it. I have faith in my judgment.”

Yeah, right. Jackson scoffed internally, thinking that it was probably some AI that had chosen him based on the budget and criteria, not Francis’s so-called judgment. The constant smile plastered on Francis’s face only served to irritate Jackson more.

“I’ve never doubted my abilities, so you can save your concern.”

Not long after his sarcastic reply, the car came to a stop. Realizing they had arrived, Jackson quickly gathered his gear. Francis, still seated in an upright posture, watched him and spoke once more.

“Good luck, Jackson Carter.”

“Well, thanks for the encouragement.”

As Jackson stepped out of the car and disappeared into the darkness, Francis gazed after him through the window. He mused quietly to himself.

Does that wild beast of a man even realize?

That in Arachron, the queen’s position is passed down through purges?

There’s no such thing as coincidence in this world. Every event has its cause and effect, though often those threads of cause and effect are so intricately woven that they remain invisible, like a vast, interconnected web.

Unaware of this fact, Jackson carefully silenced his footsteps and crept into the forest. The woods were pitch-dark, making it impossible to discern their original colors.

“Hah…”

He let out a soft breath as he came to a halt. His breath, visible in the cool air, dispersed in front of him. The weather was slightly chilly, and the forest was so quiet that you could almost hear a needle drop on the damp earth beneath his feet.

I can do it.

As untrustworthy as Francis was, Jackson didn’t think he’d handle the job sloppily. Even though he was moving solo right now, he was still part of a larger project. Other team members had meticulously laid the groundwork, and he was merely performing his role as the sniper.

“…”

A faint light flickered through the trees, causing Jackson to lower his body. He paused for a moment, listening closely to the sounds carried by the breeze. Though he couldn’t make out any words, there was a sound similar to speech. As he crept closer to the source of the noise, he could vaguely hear someone singing.

Step by step, he approached the light, checking his weapon as he moved. According to Francis, today was Arachron’s national holiday. The nocturnal creatures were set to host a grand celebration at an outdoor banquet hall in the sacred grounds near the border, with important figures from the kingdom in attendance.

Since the king of Arachron had recently passed, the banquet was being hosted by the queen. Jackson had been assured that he would recognize her immediately, even without knowing her face, but he had his doubts. He had tried to research the Arachron queen, but their species was so secretive that the best he could find were a few blurry, distant photographs of the king and queen.

Given that the Arachron had their faces covered from the nose up, it was pointless to rely on facial recognition the way one would with humans. In the end, Francis had been right—he would be able to identify her without needing to see her face.

Jackson concealed himself behind a tree and observed the preparations being made for the banquet. The mission site was a cliff near the banquet hall, and the height allowed him a clear view of the ongoing activities below.

There were still several hours left before the mission would commence. The banquet was set to begin at midnight, and until then, it was the assassin’s role to quietly wait, blending into the surroundings as he prepared for the strike.

The moon bathed the banquet hall and the forest in a bright light. Jackson, dressed in tight black clothing with his face hidden by a mask, blended seamlessly into the shadows cast by the trees. His jet-black hair, dark eyes, and dusky skin proved advantageous at this moment.

‘You want me to assassinate someone on a night when the moon is this bright? How interesting.’

‘The Arachron are nocturnal, which puts you at a disadvantage in the dark. Their eyes are different from humans’. While they’re sensitive to movement, they’re vulnerable to intense light. It’s best to use that to your advantage.’

Francis’s words echoed in his mind as he remembered their conversation before he got into the car. Inside his clothing, he had multiple flash grenades ready, just in case. In the distance, he could see the Arachron dancers rehearsing their songs and dances. None of them even glanced toward the cliff where the assassin lay hidden, completely focused on their practice, unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

The moon gradually climbed higher, approaching the center of the sky. By now, the banquet hall was filled with Arachron, and the atmosphere had grown lively and festive.

As an uninvited guest, Jackson slowly began searching for his target. His eyes locked on a female Arachron standing on a platform, adorned in extravagant jewelry and wearing a sparkling crown, addressing the crowd.