The Villain's Sister - Chapter 1

1. City of Sin

My brother escaped from prison as usual.

And not just any prison—it was Monte Prison, the kind of place you only leave as a corpse.

In other words, my own escape was over.

“My dear little sister.”

Just a day after his escape, my brother Raphael found me and asked while smoking a cigarette, “How does it feel to have thrown me in prison?”

Hooo.

The smoke he exhaled vanished into the air.

The way the corners of his mouth curled up looked carefree.

Instead of replying, I quietly began packing my things.

Not that Raphael expected a response anyway—he stubbed out his cigarette on the wooden floor and helped me pack.

Thus, my flight for freedom came to an end after just one week.

In the car on the way back, Raphael said, “Deva. Don’t take it so hard. It’s not like I enjoy dragging you around.”

“If you weren’t working for a criminal organization, I wouldn’t have had to run.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t work for a criminal organization—I own it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Raphael is the boss of Death Adder, one of the underground syndicates in this crime-ridden city, Mist Island.

The problem is that Raphael is doomed to die.

And I’m supposed to be dealt with at his funeral.

‘It feels like the original story is about to begin… I’m so anxious I could die.’

This world is the setting of a famous superhero comic called Mist Island.

The heroes here don’t wear spandex bodysuits—that’s future tech.

This is a strange era where radios, black-and-white TVs, magic, and magical engineering all coexist, so the heroes of Mist Island wear leather jackets and tailored suits, firing guns that look like something out of the near future.

And the biggest villain in this comic is Raphael Moltke.

I’m his one and only younger sister, Giselle Deva Moltke.

Oh, and for reference, Mist Island is both the title of the comic and the name of the city where it takes place.

Anyway, back to the point—

In the original, Giselle is Raphael’s only family and his weakness. While Raphael commits all sorts of crimes, Giselle remains an ordinary citizen.

But because Raphael’s power in the underworld is so great, she ends up facing a tragic end alongside him when he falls.

‘It was the main characters who brought about Raphael’s downfall.’

The protagonists of Mist Island are heroes who patrol the streets at night and act as vigilantes.

They’re obsessed with imprisoning or killing villains, and Raphael is one of the three heads who rule the underground of Mist Island.

‘Sure, Raphael does horrible things, but that doesn’t mean I can just sit by and watch him fall.’

Never mind my own horrific end, Raphael is my only brother, my only family.

He threw away his life for my sake.

I have a duty to save him.

“Raphael. Why don’t we go to another city and start fresh? There’s a rumor the government is launching a farming support program. Maybe we could grow grapes or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A city girl like you doing farm work?”

“Then let’s at least sell fruit. Please? I’m so worried about what might happen to you, I can’t sleep at night.”

Raphael gave me an apologetic smile.

I’ve always openly opposed his running a criminal syndicate.

Though my opposition only ever went as far as getting angry or refusing to talk to him, this time was different.

With the original story about to begin, I was desperate.

So I gathered evidence that the company Raphael had created to go legit was engaging in illegal activity and secretly handed it over to the police.

Of course, I didn’t reveal that Raphael was the head of Death Adder.

The police assumed he was the second-in-command, and this time he was arrested under a different identity.

It had taken a lot of effort to get him arrested, but Raphael escaped after just a week.

And he already knew I was the one who tipped off the police.

‘He must’ve pretended not to know I was informing on him.’

It’s strange that he didn’t even get angry after all that.

Well, I guess that just shows how much he cares about me.

As I sat there sulking, Raphael took something out of his wallet and handed it to me.

“What’s this?”

“A check. Spend however much you want. At least cheer yourself up with money.”

“What?”

With just one word of protest, he shoved a wad of checks into my hands, each one worth more than a typical office worker’s monthly salary.

“Deva. Go out and enjoy yourself like the other kids your age. It’s fine if you hop from party to party or go diamond shopping every day.”

“…If I married a man who lives in a remote village at the end of the land, would you let me go?”

“If that man could protect you. But how could an ordinary guy protect the sister of Death Adder’s boss?”

It was dirty money, but if I rejected it, Raphael would just feel even more burdened.

He was trying to make up for how hard it was being the sister of a villain.

And I had a reason to save up money.

So I took the checks with a chuckle from Raphael, who was snickering.

“I’ll stop by the bank. Let me out.”

“Alright, alright. Come home early. If a stranger asks you to go somewhere with them, crush them. If someone tries to kidnap you, shoot them in the face. I’ll cover for you, so don’t worry. Got it?”

“Raphael. Try saying something that actually makes sense.”

I gave Raphael a glare for saying something so terrifying, then got out of the car.

His men would take care of bringing my bags home.

To show how annoyed I was, I made a point not to look back.

When I checked my reflection in a shop window, I saw that Raphael was still standing by the roadside, watching until I turned the corner and disappeared.

‘He’s so overprotective.’

He still thinks I’m a fourteen-year-old little girl.

Grumbling inwardly, I headed to the bank.

***

On one wall of the bank, a TV screen was playing via magic transmission.

There was no sound, but subtitles were provided instead.

― Seven bodies found in Reservoir 11. Police suspect the work of Death Adder.

The news about the bodies had already broken last night.

Either Raphael gave the order, or his right-hand man did.

Whichever it was, it was definitely Death Adder’s doing.

‘Only Raphael would display corpses in a reservoir like a warning.’

Other organizations usually burn the bodies in incinerators after organ trafficking.

Just then, the customer in front of me finished their business.

When it was my turn, I handed over the money I’d been saving and said, “I’d like to make a deposit. The name is Giselle Deva Moltke. The amount is ten million raphens.”

Then—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang through the bank. It was a robbery.

The thunderous gunfire pierced my heart, making me flinch.

Mist Island was true to its name.

A city of sin, where you never knew when or where a crime would break out.

“Hands up! Everyone get on the floor!”

Kyaaaa!

Screams echoed as glass shattered.

The scent of gunpowder spread through the air.

Holding my breath, I raised my hands and crouched down.

The robbers, armed with the latest firearms, began threatening people left and right.

“You there! Fill this!”

The robber threw a sack at the bank teller, demanding money.

“…T-that’s…”

“Not gonna do it? Want to die?”

He cursed and jabbed the teller in the chest with the muzzle of his gun.

Then the robber noticed me, trembling.

The moment our eyes met through the black, skin-tight mask, he walked toward me, stepping on shattered glass.

A sense of dread washed over me—No, it can’t be… But it was.

Click.

A loaded gun pressed against my temple.

“You’d better start filling it.”

The strong scent of gunpowder from the muzzle filled my lungs.

As it pressed firmly into my skin, my head was pushed back slightly.

“Unless you want your customer to end up dead.”

My eyes met the teller’s. Tears welled up and fell.

“Please save me. I’m begging you.”

I hoped he could feel how desperately I wanted to live.

Then the robber’s accomplices shouted from behind.

“Hurry up! We don’t have time! The cops will be here any second!”

In response, the man fired a shot at the floor near my feet.

The thunderous bang made me flinch and curl up.

My hands trembled uncontrollably.

The teller frantically began stuffing money into the bag.

This is why I hate Mist Island.

The city I grew up in was a city of sin.

A place shrouded in fog, filled with the smoke of pain and corruption exhaled by the depraved.

Day or night, gunshots rang out, and heinous crimes occurred like casual jokes.

Some veterans say this place is worse than the battlefield—more disgusting than war itself, thanks to villains worse than the mafia.

“I-I’ve put everything in.”

“Are you kidding me? You’d better bring out the money from the safe too!”

The robber pressed the gun against my chin as he threatened me.

The hot muzzle pushed so hard it felt like it would crush my jaw.

At that, the bank teller, pale as a ghost, trembled as he grabbed the key.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Just then.

The bank guard, who we thought was down, fired at the robbers.

Bang! Bang!

“Aaargh!”

“Eek!”

Screams erupted from all directions.

The robber threatening me returned fire at the guard.

The problem was—the guard was behind me.

“Aaaah!”

I screamed without meaning to.

Glass shards flew in all directions, scraping my skin.

Bang! Bang bang! Bang!

Glass shattered, and the loud bangs of tables being overturned as shields rang out.

The standoff ended with the guard’s death.

“Hey, the cops are coming!”

“Damn it!”

Blood from the dead guard flowed toward me.

The disgusting sight left me dazed, unable to look away.

The robber grabbed me by the scruff and hauled me up.

“You there! If you don’t want to see this woman die, you’d better open that other safe too!”

Even if you’re related to the most notorious criminal in the city, that doesn’t mean you’re used to crime.

Raphael was the one in the criminal underworld—not me.

So when the gun muzzle, reeking of gunpowder, pressed hard against my temple, it felt like my heart stopped.

“P-please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

Tears welled up, and my voice trembled. My legs had no strength.

“Shut up. Close that mouth!”

The hard muzzle tapped my head.

I should’ve just gone straight home with Raphael. I shouldn’t have come to the bank.

It seems I’m finally paying the price for living off dirty money.

Then it happened.

Bang bang bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out, cracking the marble floor and kicking up dust.

“Police! Drop your weapons and surrender!”

“Damn it! If you don’t want this woman dead, lower your guns!”

The robber, clutching my neck, spun around to face different directions.

To show he had a hostage.

Even as he moved, a bullet struck the ground near his feet.

“There’s a hostage! Cease fire! There’s a hostage!”

The officer who had entered the bank shouted at his comrades aiming at the robbers.

I spotted the officer in front of me.

He wore his uniform sloppily, his fierce expression locked on the robber.

“The bank is surrounded. Surrender while I’m asking nicely.”

The officer took aim at us with perfect posture.

Wait, he can point a gun even with a hostage involved?

I was furious. If I died, I’d haunt that guy and torment his descendants for generations.

“Drop the gun! Or this woman dies!”

The robber knocked my head again with the muzzle.

“Eek!”

I clamped my eyes shut, stifling the scream rising in my throat.

Just because Giselle survived until Raphael’s downfall in the original doesn’t mean I’ll survive too.

The Giselle in the original might never have been captured after running away like I was.

I’ve changed so many things since I learned about the story—there’s no telling what’s been twisted.

“You want to see this woman die? Drop your guns! Or I can’t guarantee the hostage’s safety!”

“You bastard!”

For all their shouting, the police didn’t lower their weapons.

Someone—anyone—just drop your gun already.

The one pointed at me was definitely loaded.

And then—

Bang!

With a single shot, the robber behind me screamed and collapsed.

Blood poured from the hand that had been holding the gun—it had been shot through.

“Aaaaagh! M-my hand!”

“Told you to surrender while I was still being nice.”

The officer in front of me twisted his lips and stepped on the fallen robber’s hand.

“Nice shot, Tristan!”

One of the officers covering from across the room gave a thumbs-up.

‘Tristan?’

Even in my dazed state, I turned to get a good look at the cop who’d taken down the robber.

Black hair, silver-gray eyes, tall and tan-skinned.

Tristan. And his surname was probably Lindbergh.

By day, he worked as a police officer. But at night, he donned a leather jacket and protected the city—a sharpshooting genius.

And also the main hero of this world: “Black Pistols.”