“Gilleon, wake up. That isn’t the young master.”

He spoke in the same dry tone.

“H-huh? What do you mean?”

Hah?

“For as much as you superficially look like the young master you can’t fool me. Your body language, the way you enunciate your words, your gaze…who are you and what did you do with Ash Kurton?”

“HAHAHAHA! Fucker, it seems like you’ve been caught lacking!”

Gilleon glared at Jackson with the eyes of a vicious wolf. It invoked a sense of fear in all that saw, nevertheless the target it was directed towards. Jackson faltered. The smile on his face wavered but he continued to regard Hubert with a steady gaze but he felt his fingers tremble incessantly.

“B-but his scent…”

Blustering and blundering Gilleon was still confused and elicited a scoff from Hubert.

“Gilleon. Don’t be stupid and only rely on one sense. Since when was the young master someone who thanked someone for saving him?”

“Good job old geezer.”

“B-but…”

That seemed to baffle the naive knight momentarily.

Before the squirrel knight would continue to spiral, Ash interrupted the two of them.

“Gilleon. Do a favor for me will you? I need to talk to Hubert. In private.”

“Young master!”

His puppy eyes looked pitiful as they begged Jackson to reconsider pitifully.

He was a cutie. If only a certain someone could be as earnest and honest as him…Jackson lamented of his protagonist he created. With a sigh he continued.

“Go. He won’t be able to harm me. After all, he cares about his young master.”

Hubert narrowed his eyes as Jackson’s wording.

Jackson smirked a little in having assured that much. Good. It seemed like he understood his nuances, interpreting it as a threat.

“...Hubert. I…”

“Don’t worry. I promise not to do anything of that sort.”

Hubert scoffed and waved a hand away at Gilleon.

After glancing between the two of them in mild confusion, the squirrel knight darted his soft brown eyes at Jackson’s direction one more time before excusing himself. There seemed to be a dark cloud looming above Gilleon’s head, but Jackson could always comfort him later.

“Explain yourself young man.”

“Whoa, whoa. No need to be so hostile. I'm not here to be difficult.”

A second knife flew out and grazed Ash’s hair by a breadth.

“...I’m not Ash Kurton, but I am in Ash’s body as a second consciousness. In other words, you can say Ash and I are one and the same for now. Currently I’m speaking but Ash is listening to everything we’re talking about!”

He blabbed as much as he could in a millisecond in surrender. Life was great. Yup. Nothing more important than staying alive.

There was a pile of cold sweat running down his back. Although his face was visibly affixed into a smirk, if anything else happened…Jackson wasn’t sure if he could maintain his facial expression.

Jackson could tell from Huberts frozen expression that he was not impressed.

“That would make sense that it's the young liege’s body. It would be impossible to replicate a carbon copy of anyone simply through the means of magic.”

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Oh thank the lord. He was still listening.

“As of such…”

With a bored tone Hubert pressed another third knife against Ash’s neck.

“AHHEUAAAK!”

Jackson was trembling like a deer caught in headlights. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched in horror as the assassin stared him down with those haunting marine eyes. He could feel the cold metal grazing his neck, sending his brain into overdrive in a desire to run away.

“Get the hell out of the young master's body.”

“HAHAHHAHA HOW’S THAT YOU FUCKER!”

Jackson felt a tinge of annoyance at the instigating tone as though he were uninvolved.

“No, no! How can you jump to that conclusion! Goddammit…if I could’ve I would’ve long gone out of here!”

First thing was first. Calm down… calm him down…

“I…don’t you want to know where your son is?! Leorio!”

Hubert froze and opened his electrifying eyes wide in shock.

“How do you know that name?!”

The retired assassin collected his nerves quickly and neared the blade to Ash’s neck much to his dismay.

“Tell me what you know.”

“...Well, I don’t feel very much inclined to do so with a blade around my neck. How about~ let’s say, how about you chill?”

Not good. Jackson was spouting the first words that came to mind, but he couldn’t help it.

“Chill…chill.”

Hubert repeated his words in a confused murmur.

Narrowing his eyes, the mercenary stepped back and relaxed his grip on his weapon.

“Speak.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jackson massaged his neck delicately and sang his own praises for his quick thinking.

“I know a bit about you, Hubert Losre. An assassin from Lanvert, the capital of mercenaries. A few years back I believe you were known as the Silent Iris, the best assassin of your field. And–”

There was a smug glint in Jackson’s eye.

“I also know you’re a beast specter.”

Hubert bore his eyes through the youth, unaffected by the vulnerability in his identity.

“So it seems you’ve done your research. Yes, I was known as the Silent Iris back in my heyday. More importantly. Where did you learn of Leorio?”

“What can I say? A little birdie told me. Kidding. It was the count who informed me. I know of your deal with him.”

Leorio was around Ash’s age when he was kidnapped from his father as an act of vengeance against the assassin. Despite killing the perpetrators, Hubert was not able to find his son in time before Leorio was smuggled away.

The assassin before his eyes was a gruntman that worked for the count.

In exchange for information on beast specter trade routes, Hubert had worked to kill Noah’s competitors in the nobleman’s beast specter slave trade. It was an irony that further exemplified the desperation of the desperate beast specter.

With unkempt stubble, bloodshot eyes, and the smell of booze that reeked from his body, it was hard to imagine that the assassin could lose himself anymore. But in two years time the man would fall into despair after losing trace after trace of his son. To the lonely Ash and the heartbroken mercenary, the two found comfort in a relationship that was less than that of a parent and child, but more than that of a mere master and disciple relationship. Despite that, Hubert eventually disappeared after discovering his child’s death and left Ash by himself.

Jackson had no desire to let the tragedy play out on its own. At the end of the day, even if he had to use force he wanted to cherry pick the best moments of his story and change the worst. That was the desire of a simple man that was no longer an omnipotent author. He didn’t have the leisure of watching events unfold with the belief that he was a bystander.

“So…the count knew where my son was. Is this what you’re implying?”

“Yes. After all, how else is he supposed to keep you on your reins? We both know the count can’t trust anyone for the life of him.”

Hubert’s gaze darkened in contemplation. After a brief moment of silence where he pursed his lips, he opened his mouth once more and spoke without emotion.

“No matter what the count has done. You’re telling me you know where my son is.”

Hubert regarded Jackson with a heavy gaze. Looking into the exhausted eyes of the mercenary, Jackson perceived a seed of fragility in Hubert’s persona.

In the end, that fragility will draw Hubert into his debt. There was a confident smile on Jackson’s face.

It was a common look of Jackson’s that others had once interpreted as naivety. Yet the writer knew himself the best. His naivety was a confidence that others had lost, that he once threw away but steadily regained in his days as a writer. It had increased by strides in Salaria, where the psyche of his characters were an open book.

“Yes. Yes I do. And I’ll tell you where he is after my request from you is accomplished.”

Jackson knew he would save Leorio. He knew Hubert would be grateful, and he knew for a fact that Ash would eventually thank him. That was his ‘confidence’ as someone who crafted the intricacies of their characters.

Hubert smiled in return. It was nothing like the vibrant expression on Jackson’s face but more of a look of relief, as if an age old mystery had been settled.

“This old man will trust you this once.”

After the few brief moments where the assassin had relaxed, his face shifted once more into the uptight yet unkempt character from before.

“However–I am also still under the count’s employ. As part of my contract, I hope that whatever you are scheming, that the young master is a beneficiary in your plans.”

It seemed like this one here also had a habit of nagging others. Thinking of Ash, Jackson couldn’t help but frown a little.

“Don’t worry, don't worry. Kids are kids. All I have to do is treat Ash like he needs to be treated.”

“Fucker…I…”

His protagonist was fourteen. Just from Ash’s past alone and his persona, there was little to no chance he’d mess up the firm, individualistic spirit of his that was like fire. As for his other more negative traits…well. Being an anger management therapist wasn’t part of his job description. Yup. Denial was fine sometimes!

Hubert frowned in disagreement in a way that Jackson was surprised to see, but it soon flitted off his face and slipped to his typical decadent nonchalance as he changed the topic.

“So what do you want in exchange? I can give many things you desire. Riches. Women. Name it, and I will see what I can do. ”

Jackson gulped. The money was tempting, especially so with Hubert’s confident tone as if no amount would baffle him.

But. He had to stay alive in order to enjoy riches.

Clapping his hands together, he smiled with saccharine enthusiasm.

“Wowie! It seems like I chanced upon a wish granting genie!”

Knowing Hubert, he knew it was as close as he could get to a genie. There was nothing he couldn’t steal, no one that wasn’t untouchable in the eyes of the most famed assassin of Lanvert. And that included money. Enough money to run away from here with Ash, and live freely until the world ended. Despite the temptation however, Jackson knew that Ash would inevitably stop him. Dreams will be dreams in the end.

The assassin didn’t seem to be fond of his joke. Staring at him with a dark look, he seemed to impatiently ask him to hurry up. With a small cough, Jackson continued with a bubbly tone.

“Please become my teacher of assassination. Hubert Losre, I want to learn everything. Teach it to me and Ash.”