The Villain's Sister - Chapter 1

1. City of Sin

My brother escaped from prison as usual.

And not just any prison, but Monte Prison, a place where you only leave as a corpse.

In other words, my escape had also come to an end.

“My dear sister.”

Raphael, who found me just one day after his prison break, was smoking a cigarette as he asked, “How does it feel to have thrown me in prison?”

Whoosh.

The smoke Raphael exhaled dissipated into the air.

His upward-curving mouth showed his usual refreshing smile.

Instead of making any significant response, I quietly started packing my things.

Not expecting me to say much, Raphael stubbed out his cigarette on the wooden floor and helped me gather my belongings.

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

On the way back in the car, Raphael spoke, “Deva. Don’t be like this. I don’t enjoy dragging you along against your will either.”

“If only you didn’t work for a criminal organization, I wouldn’t have to run away like this.”

“Let’s get this straight. I didn’t join a criminal organization; the organization is mine.”

That much was true.

Raphael was the leader of Death Adder, an underground organization in the crime city of Mist Island.

The problem was that Raphael was destined to die.

And I was destined to be dealt with at his funeral.

‘It feels like the day the original story begins is approaching… This is so nerve-wracking.’

This world is the setting of the famous hero comic “Mist Island.”

The heroes here don’t wear spandex suits. That’s a technology for the future.

This is a peculiar era where radios, black-and-white TVs, magic, and magical engineering coexist, so the heroes of Mist Island wear leather jackets and custom suits, wielding guns that might be used in the near future.

The greatest villain in this comic is Raphael Moltke.

And I am his one and only younger sister, Giselle Deva Moltke.

Oh, by the way, Mist Island is both the name of the comic and the city where the story takes place.

Anyway, in the original, Giselle is Raphael’s only family and a normal citizen, unlike Raphael, who commits all kinds of crimes.

But because Raphael’s power in the underworld was overwhelming, when he fell, Giselle also met a similarly tragic end.

‘It was the heroes who brought Raphael down.’

The protagonists of “Mist Island” are the heroes who do vigilante work, patrolling the city at night.

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

‘Raphael does horrible things, but I can’t just watch him fall.’

My gruesome fate is one thing, but Raphael is my only brother and family.

He threw his life into the trash for me.

I have a duty to save Raphael.

“Raphael. How about we move to another city and start over? There’s a rumor that the government will be launching a support project for farmers. We could try growing grapes or something.”

“That’s nonsense. A city kid trying to farm?”

“Then let’s run a fruit stall or something. Please? I’m losing sleep, worrying that something might happen to you.”

Raphael looked at me and smiled apologetically.

I had always openly opposed Raphael running a criminal organization.

Opposed as in, I would get angry or refuse to speak to him, but this time was different.

The time for the original story to begin was drawing near, and I was extremely anxious.

So I secretly gathered evidence that a company Raphael had set up to go legitimate was committing illegal activities and handed it over to the police.

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

The police thought Raphael was the second-in-command of Death Adder and arrested him under a different identity.

Even though I managed to get him arrested with great effort, Raphael broke out of prison in just a week.

And he already knew that I was the one who reported him.

‘He must’ve been pretending not to know that I tipped off the police.’

It’s odd that he’s not angry, even after all this.

Well, I guess it means he cares about me that much.

Raphael pulled something out of his wallet and handed it to me as I sat there sulking.

“What’s this?”

“A check. Spend as much as you want. Use the money to cheer up.”

“What?”

At my questioning, he shoved a bundle of checks at me, each worth more than an average worker’s salary.

“Deva. Have fun like other kids your age. Go from party to party or shop for diamonds every day if you want.”

“…If I were to marry a guy from a village at the edge of the country, would you let me go?”

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

Even if it’s dirty money, refusing it would only weigh on Raphael’s heart.

He’s trying to compensate me in this way because he knows how hard it is for me as the sister of a villain.

And I do have a plan for saving up the money.

So I accepted the checks, grinning at Raphael.

“I’ll stop by the bank before going home. Let me out.”

“Alright, alright. Come home early. If someone asks you to come with them, stomp on them, and if anyone tries to kidnap you, shoot them right in the face. I’ll take care of everything else, so don’t worry, got it?”

“Raphael, could you say something that makes sense?”

I glared at Raphael for saying such frightening things before getting out of the car.

Raphael’s subordinates would take care of bringing my luggage back home.

To show that I was angry, I made a point of not looking back.

As I checked my reflection in the shop windows, I saw Raphael standing by the roadside, watching until I disappeared around the corner.

‘He overprotects me too much.’

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

Grumbling to myself, I headed to the bank.

***

On one wall of the bank, a TV screen displayed news via a mana transmission.

There was no sound, but subtitles were provided instead.

― Seven bodies were found in Reservoir 11. Police suspect Death Adder is responsible.

The news of the discovered bodies had broken last night.

Raphael must’ve ordered it, or maybe his right-hand man did.

Either way, it was definitely the work of Death Adder.

‘Only Raphael would dump bodies so brazenly into a reservoir.’

Other organizations burn the bodies after harvesting the organs.

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

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

At that moment,

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots echoed through the bank. It was a bank robbery.

The loud gunfire, echoing in my chest, made my body shrink back.

Mist Island is Mist Island.

A city of sin where you never know when or where a crime might break out.

“Everyone, hands up and get on the floor!”

Screams and the sound of glass shattering filled the air.

The smell of gunpowder spread throughout the space.

I quickly raised my hands, keeping my head low as I swallowed hard.

The robbers, wielding the latest guns, threatened people one by one.

“You there! Fill it up!”

The robbers threw a bag at the bank teller, demanding money.

“…B-But…”

“Not filling it? You want to die?”

The robber swore and jabbed the bank teller’s chest with the gun barrel.

Then the robber noticed me trembling.

The eyes visible through the black mask locked with mine, and he stepped over the broken glass towards me.

A feeling of unease came over me, and unfortunately, my worst fear came true.

Click.

The barrel of the loaded gun touched my temple with a thud.

“You’d better fill it up.”

The thick scent of gunpowder from the barrel filled my lungs.

As the gun pressed hard against my skin, my head helplessly tilted with each push.

“Unless you want this customer to die.”

My eyes met the bank teller’s, and tears welled up.

“Please, spare me. I’m begging you.”

I hoped my desperate plea for life reached him.

The robber’s accomplices yelled from behind.

“Hurry up, we don’t have time! The cops will be here soon!”

The robber fired a shot at his feet in response to his accomplices’ shouts.

With the deafening gunshot, I shrank back, holding my breath.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The bank teller hurriedly began filling the bag with money.

This is why I hate Mist Island.

The city where I grew up is a city of sin.

A place where the cries of the suffering and the smoke exhaled by the corrupt hang like mist.

Gunshots ring out day and night, and all sorts of violent crimes happen as casually as people telling jokes.

With villains worse than the mafia everywhere, some war veterans even say this place is more nauseating than the battlefield.

“H-Here, it’s all in.”

“Are you kidding? Get the money from the vault too!”

The robber pressed the gun against my chin, threatening me.

The hot barrel seemed like it would crush my jaw.

The bank teller, whose face had turned pale, trembled as he grabbed the keys.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Just then,

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

Bang! Bang!

“Aaargh!”

“Aah!”

Screams erupted from all around.

The robber threatening me fired back at the guard.

The problem was, the guard was right behind me.

“Aaaah!”

A scream burst out of me involuntarily.

Glass shards flying everywhere cut my skin.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of glass shattering, tables being overturned to use as shields, filled the air.

The standoff ended with the guard being killed.

“Hey, the cops are coming!”

“Damn it!”

The blood from the dead guard flowed towards me.

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

The robber grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me up.

“You, over there! If you don’t want to see this woman die, you better open that vault!”

Even if I’m the family of the most notorious criminal in this city, I’m not used to crime.

Raphael is the one involved in the criminal world, not me.

So with the gunpowder-scented barrel pressed against my temple, my heart felt like it would stop.

“P-Please, spare me. Don’t do this.”

Tears welled up, and my voice trembled. My legs felt weak.

“Shut up!”

The cold barrel smacked my head.

I should’ve just gone straight home with Raphael. Why did I come to the bank?

I guess today’s the day I pay the price for living off dirty money.

Just then,

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out, and cracks appeared in the marble floor, sending up dust.

“This is the police! Drop your weapons and surrender!”

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

The robber held me by the throat, turning back and forth, showing everyone he had a hostage.

Meanwhile, bullets hit the floor near my feet.

“There’s a hostage! Stop shooting! There’s a hostage!”

The police shouted at their colleagues aiming at the robbers from the other side of the bank.

I saw the police officers who had arrived.

The officer, with his uniform worn haphazardly, glared fiercely at the robbers.

“The bank is surrounded. Surrender while I’m being nice.”

The officer aimed perfectly in our direction.

How could he not lower his gun when there’s a hostage?

I hated the officer in front of me to death.

If I die, I’ll haunt that guy for generations.

“Drop the gun! If not, this woman dies!”

The robber smacked my head with the gun barrel.

“Aah!”

I swallowed a scream and squeezed my eyes shut.

Just because Giselle survived without incident until Raphael’s downfall in the original story doesn’t mean I will.

Maybe the original Giselle never ran away and got caught like I did.

Since I know the original story and have tried to change many things, there must be countless twists.

“You want this woman to die? Drop the gun! If not, I can’t guarantee the hostage’s safety!”

“You bastard!”

Despite the cursing, the police didn’t seem to have any intention of putting down their guns.

Please, somebody, put down their weapon.

The gun pointed at me was loaded.

It was then.

Bang!

With a single gunshot, the robber behind me screamed and fell.

Blood gushed from his hand, which had been holding the gun.

“Aaargh! M-My hand!”

“I told you to surrender while I was being nice.”

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

“Nice shot, Tristan!”

Another officer who had been aiming from a distance gave a thumbs-up to the man in front of me.

‘…Tristan?’

Even in my stunned state, I looked up at the officer who had taken down the robber.

Black hair, silver-gray eyes, tall with bronze skin.

Tristan. His surname was probably Lindbergh.

By day, he worked as a police officer, and by night, he wore a leather jacket and protected the city as a sharpshooting genius.

And he was also the hero of this world, ‘Black Pistols.’