The Imperial Hunter - Chapter 18: Beast Hunt (6)

In Nazi Germany, Jews walked in rows and died in rows according to the regime’s control. Most of them didn’t resist or even make a proper sound until the very end.

Were Jews a particularly weak people? No. All other massacres contain similar scenes. People who have not experienced it might think that they would at least put up a fight if they were in that situation, but if it were that easy, many parts of history would be different.

The pigs here were no exception. Even when their comrades died, they didn’t make a sound; they just held their breath and rolled their eyes. If even one of them had bitten the bit, screamed, or twisted in anger, I would have adjusted my assessment of the White Guard. They might not have a concept of camaraderie, but they were men with camaraderie and spirit.

“Do you find out anything?”

While I was questioning Karen Williams, my subordinates weren’t just waiting around. There were plenty of things they could do quietly. In response to my question, Kyung-tae answered.

“We checked these guys’ phones.”

“And the results?”

“First of all, this guy-“

Kyung-tae’s gaze pointed at one of the officers.

“He’s at the top of the White Guard hierarchy.”

“He got lucky.”

Was his name Fraser? He wasn’t just an officer.

‘He seems too scared to be the leader.’

Earlier, Kyung-tae reported that this warehouse was not only an operational base but also a place where homeless people could get food. From this boss named Fraser’s perspective, staying in this warehouse would mean having 24-hour protection from his subordinates. I had suspected as much when I confirmed the existence of the vault.

“Anything else?”

“We’ve identified the people outside as well. Surprisingly, they’re quite organized.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We’ve identified seven people at home with passcodes, twelve who went out for transport and collection, and twelve again for guarding the main business and patrolling the area. According to their orders, it seems that four people form a group.”

“Convenient numbers for taking turns.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“What about their backers?”

I had guessed that these guys might have supporters or backers. Kyung-tae answered.

“We have messenger conversations and call records, but that alone isn’t enough information. We’ll probably need to interrogate them, but it might get noisy, so we were waiting for that woman, Williams, to leave.”

“Good job. Let me take a look too.”

“Do you mean the phones?”

I nodded.

After a flick of my fingers, Kyung-tae politely handed over the leader’s phone. The security had already been unlocked. They had used everything: iris scans, fingerprints, you name it.

‘Jay.’

The alias used in the Telegram secret chat by the last person. I immediately thought of Robert Jay Matthews. The leader who once led the now-defunct neo-Nazi organization, the Silent Brotherhood. Chief White testified that these skinhead pigs claimed to be the successors of the Silent Brotherhood in their investigation, and that was how I came across the name.

Over 70 police officers were killed in a shootout, so how heroic and cool must these bastards have looked in their eyes.

‘Actually, Matthews himself had hostile relations with drug dealers.’

Matthews was a man of conviction. He was a criminal with beliefs. His belief was about as serious as believing in the world government conspiracy of Zionist Jews, but still, it felt quite comical that the mastermind behind cocaine distribution would borrow that middle name.

Well…

From the remaining conversations, it seemed that this Jay guy had his own beliefs too. Except for the past week, most of the messages were deleted, making it difficult to determine his history or identity.

Having seen everything there was to see, I handed the phone back to Kyung-tae. There wasn’t much information, but it could be useful to give false instructions to the guys outside.

“I’ll do the interrogation. Bring the rest in.”

“Yes.”

After roles were assigned, I walked around the inside of the warehouse once more. There were many chairs folded and put away, possibly used for beating people. There were also extensions and cement posts that could have been used for that purpose. The walls were cluttered with Nazi-related decorations. They were cheap replicas.

“Untie him.”

At my gesture, one of my subordinates came forward with a knife and cut the leader’s gag. It had been tied so tightly that the corners of his mouth were swollen like clown makeup.

“Wh-Who are you? What’s the deal with all this?”

In a breathless voice, he asked, and I responded by slapping his cheekbones again. This time, the sound of leather bursting was loud enough. I casually wiped off the spattered blood on my raincoat and said,

“Your words.”

“…”

Fraser, who had been moaning, swallowed his saliva in response to my action and used honorifics this time.

“Sir… Who are you, sir?”

I scraped his cheekbone again, and this time, the sound was like cracking leather. His nose also burst this time. Blood droplets sprayed onto the plastic laid out beneath. It might have been an exclamation that came reflexively from the pain, but did I have to understand that? I grabbed his head, which had turned around, and turned it back into place like a basketball.

“Can’t you pull yourself together?”

Fraser, who seemed to be in considerable pain, didn’t respond and just let his tears flow. I once again raised my hand and struck.

“Stop crying. It’s disgusting.”

Fraser, whose face was now distinctly discolored, looked up at me and pleaded.

“Please… no more…”

“Are you giving me orders now?”

“No, no, sir…”

I lowered my raised hand slowly, and the leader breathed a visible sigh of relief. His cheekbones were swollen to the point where his face had become asymmetrical. It seemed like he’d lost his hearing on one side. From the looks of it, he might look like a professional fighter who had taken many blows in a cage fight. The tears were still flowing, but for now, I moved on. After all, I just needed an excuse to let him off the hook in the first place.

“Name.”

“Yes?”

What did he mean, “Yes”? I grabbed Fraser’s head again, focusing on the swollen center, and pressed hard on the swollen cheekbone with my thumb. The sound of fingers sinking into the swollen flesh was heard.

“Aaaargh!”

“Name.”

I already knew his name, but interrogations usually start with easy questions. It’s about creating the fact that the subject “answered the question.”

“Fraser! Ugh! Fraser Duke! Fraser Duuuuuke…”

I heard the name being shouted like a plea, and I removed my hand. Even without reinforced magic, I had powerful strength, and the handprint was vivid on the bruised skin. The skin was so thin that you could see blood seeping through.

“Alright. Fraser Duke.”

I leaned forward towards Fraser. Shadows fell over his face.

“It’s time for confession. Why do you think I came looking for you?”

“Yes?”

This guy was not very bright. I released Fraser’s upper body and kicked his knee hard with the back of my heel. The feeling of the kick radiated from the diagonal impact, and screams echoed through the spacious warehouse. The knees trapped between the edge of the chair and my boot couldn’t be in good shape. If I hadn’t purposely kicked slightly aside, the cruciate ligaments would have torn, and the kneecap would have shattered.

‘Because it would be difficult to destroy it all at once.’

What I needed was a variety of violence that could slowly break the body and mind. Balancing between ruthless brutality that induced fear and the need to keep the subject alive. Sustainable pain.

“I’ll ask again. Why do you think I came looking for you?”

Fraser, who had been watching for an opening, opened his mouth with a pained and fearful expression.

“Per-Perhaps… Did you come from the 14K? Because we invaded your territory?”

“Wrong.”

Snap! Fraser’s knee was kicked again, and he writhed in pain, twisting his body. The condition of the rear cruciate ligaments was precarious. This was enough to consider that complete recovery was out of the question, even if he managed to leave here alive. That would be the story when he left here alive, of course.

The 14K Fraser mentioned was a loosely organized coalition of various Chinese triad factions. They worked together in a loose cooperation.

‘These guys just killed someone in Chinatown without any precautions?’

Since overhearing my conversation with Karen, this guy must have been desperate to retrace the steps of his organization. He had two clues: my client was an old man, and I was here for the revenge of ‘people who lost their families and neighbors.’ Additionally, he must have considered the fact that I was of Asian descent. As a result, he seemed to have touched upon Chinatown.

Why would a fledgling organization mess with them? Most organizations shied away from stirring up the intricate web of relationships (guanxi) in Chinatown. I continued the interrogation.

“Come on, get it right. Why do you think I came looking for you?”

“…”

“Hurry up and guess. If you give the wrong answer or if you keep hesitating like this—”

A groan erupted from Fraser’s mouth. Squelch, thud. This time, I completely damaged his cruciate ligament and dislocated his kneecap. I had to forcibly realign his knee, which was enough to cause an audible scream.

I finally lifted my foot after working my Walker heel into it as though I was grinding something.

“That’s how it would be.”

The reason for not using the truth or confession serum first was that the statements obtained through confessions often have many flaws. Different events could get mixed up, or the chronological order could be reversed. Therefore, it was better to play the irrational monster first, not giving them any room to think, and then use the confession serum later. If necessary.

Words burst from Fraser’s mouth. Beating him regularly, and receiving the gift of violence, Fraser started vomiting out the murders committed by him and his organization indiscriminately. Driven by terror beyond mere pain, especially for someone with a weak psyche like him. The fear that his body would be permanently damaged was more powerful than any pain.

‘That guy Jay is certainly a criminal. He’s most likely an insider of the American Front.’

The distribution and composition of the murders reveal the killer’s tendencies. In this case, there were mixed tendencies of organization and the puppeteer’s influence. Ordinary homicides, gang conflicts, ideological or political human hunts.

The ‘Indian hunting’ was one such event. More precisely, it was part of ideological indoctrination training. It aimed to incite the followers ideologically, foster a sense of belonging, and provide experience in organized murder. The Native Americans died for such petty reasons.

But what deaths were not petty, really?

Based on the countless keywords, I narrowed down the scope of the interrogation. According to his statement, Jay helped establish the White Guard by using proxies, provided ideological foundations and legal protection, and, in return, received bribes or commissioned the disappearance of specific individuals.

These idiots were deeply infatuated with Jay’s justification for creating a ‘white nation.’ To them, ‘white nation’ was synonymous with utopia.

After listening to all this, I sighed and wiped the blood on my gloves with a handkerchief before asking.

“Tell me more about Jay. What does he do? What’s his real name? Where does he live?”

Fraser, who had turned into a bloody mess in a short period of time, was completely crushed psychologically. Learning that he became mentally handicapped every time he hesitated with an answer, as it was in the literal sense, he screamed in panic as soon as he saw my displeased expression.

“I don’t know! I really don’t know! I’ve never seen his face! He always sent a go-between! He always contacted us first! Please, spare me! Don’t hit me!”

“A go-between?”

“Yes, yes! A go-between!”

Heaving breaths, his words broke off. It was likely that several ribs had been broken, making even breathing painful for him. Nonetheless, I pulled out my gun and shot off his ear. He let out a scream and sobbed, and I continued to pull the trigger, slowly reducing what remained of his ear. His eardrum had been torn apart earlier.

“Stop crying and talk, talk. Where did you usually meet that bastard, whether it was one person or several, what were the demands, what did you talk about, how was his accent and appearance, how did you arrange meetings…”

Tap, tap, tap! Within the quiet gunshots, there were consecutive cartridge ejections and the humming of the suppressor. Experiencing the real-time reduction of one ear, Fraser cried out in a mixture of weeping.

“Please, spare my life! Spare my life!”

“You won’t die from this much.”

A long time ago, van Gogh cut off his ear, and kind of recently, Russian anti-Bolshevik artists cut off his ear. The latter, Pyotr Pavlensky, only cut off his earlobe, but in any case, he didn’t have any problems with excessive bleeding until the police arrived.

Well, this guy had taken Viagra, so he had a relatively large amount of bleeding.

While the outside became noisy for a moment, four new pigs were caught and brought inside. The ones being dragged in smelled the pervasive scent of violence and fear indoors and froze.

Fraser, now in deep despair, urgently exclaimed,

“I can summon him! I will try to summon him!”

“That bastard?”

“Yes!”

“How?”

“Yes?”

“I said, how, and with what excuse are you going to summon him?”

“Um, well…”

“You blurted it out without thinking? Do I still seem easy to you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then think. Think and convince me. Before I put a hole in your useless head.”

Gasping for breath, Fraser focused on finding an excuse to lure Jay’s representative. To avoid pushing too hard, I decided to postpone further violence.

Author’s Thoughts

Disclaimer:

This novel is a work of fiction! While it may incorporate elements inspired by our “real” historical world, including historical events, settings, and cultures, it is important to note that the story and characters are entirely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work should be enjoyed and interpreted as a work of fiction and not as a representation of historical facts or reality.

Also, if you find some error in translation please do let me know by tagging me (@_dawn24) in our Discord server. Since this series is kinda hard to translate. But I’ll try my best to make it at least readable 🙂

Enjoy reading~!