The Villain's Sister - Chapter 100

Before the chemical response team even arrived, Red Shadow gathered and neutralized the gas.

The one who acted as the face holding the hostages was the Black Cloak, and the one who had sneaked onto the rooftop and caused the mess was Sunshine.

By the time Black Pistols reached the rooftop, Sunshine had already escaped.

The elevator wasn’t working, and he had used the stairs.

Had he really fled?

Or was he hiding somewhere in the building?

As he inspected the structures installed on the rooftop, he went down to check on the hostages.

That was when he saw the wizard from the Central Army.

“Damn….”

The central government treated him the same as a villain.

If he got caught, his identity would be exposed, and he’d definitely end up in prison.

There was a wizard outside, and the Central Army was already filling the emergency stairs and restarting the elevators.

‘I’ll hide first and find Johan.’

With Red Shadow, they could escape quickly.

Thinking that, he ran down the stairs.

“Black Pistols?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He thought it was either a Central Army soldier or a hostage, but the face he saw belonged to a reporter.

“Are you very busy?”

“That’s your question?”

From below, Central Army troops were coming up.

To avoid them, he slipped out of the stairwell, but the reporter followed.

“Can I get a quick interview?”

“Oh, hell no. Go home, wash your feet, and go to bed.”

When he walked into a random office, some employees hiding under their desks because of Sunshine peeked their heads out.

I thought it was empty… damn it.

“Sunshine and the Black Cloak escaped. Um… yeah. I’ll just hide here for a bit.”

“Ah, the Central Army.”

“Jeez… what the hell is the city even doing?”

One of the employees gestured toward the conference room, telling him to hide there.

They all knew how the central government treated heroes.

Fortunately, Mist Island citizens were sympathetic toward him.

‘My hero pride’s all gone.’

Constant sleep deprivation and unpaid work only built up more debt, but moments like this reminded him he was doing the right thing.

Sitting on the conference room floor, he tried to steady his breathing after climbing up and down forty-five floors.

Meanwhile, the reporter had followed him into the room.

Outside the window, Red Shadow was under attack by a government wizard, motioning urgently for something.

A small explosion knocked the wizard away, and the Central Army fired their anti-magic rifles.

“That won’t work….”

From that high place, where he conjured his magic, his jet-black hair fluttered as his mask lifted slightly.

Red Shadow drew his gun and opened fire on the soldiers.

‘Wasn’t he ex-military?’

Because of the war that broke out near Mist Island, many of its residents were former soldiers.

Even among his colleagues in the police department, there were veteran soldiers.

What drove someone like him to become an antihero after discharge, prowling through the night?

It was strange enough that a man like that lived in a shabby apartment despite being so capable.

In every way, he was hard to figure out.

“You know Red Shadow well, don’t you?”

If he didn’t answer, would the reporter call in the Central Army?

Maybe he should just knock him out. But then the guy would make a fuss in his article again.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that crap before.

Just as he was about to raise his hand, the reporter spoke:

“You’ve always expressed your beliefs through actions. The media just speculated, and the citizens only gossiped. But I’d like to tell your story, just as it is, for once.”

“….”

Black Pistols glanced at Red Shadow, his figure a dark silhouette against the backlight.

Just as I’m curious about him, do the citizens feel the same curiosity about me?

Leaving personal matters aside, was there anything I could really convey as a hero?

That kind of thing should be proven through actions. Red Shadow would probably feel the same.

“Mr. Black Pistols. You’ve already shown what kind of person you are. We’d like to hear your story.”

“My story?”

“Yes. The true feelings of a hero that have never been revealed before.”

His true feelings… he wondered what meaning there could be in revealing something like that. Still, he hated that the citizens had such illusions about him.

He wanted them to know that the motivation hidden under his helmet was impure, that he wasn’t truly a hero but just a pitiful man.

The city’s excessive praise always made him feel ashamed.

“…Do you have a business card?”

“Oh. Here!”

<M.C Today>’s Sean Bulls.

After taking the card, Black Pistols thought for a moment, then finally said what he’d been wanting to say for a long time.

“I’m not a hero.”

“Sorry?”

“Grand ideals, justice… none of that exists. Once Sunshine’s dealt with, I’m retiring.”

“Why Sunshine?”

“…I lost my brother to drugs.”

As Red Shadow flew through the air, their eyes met.

With the fog, he crossed over to this side.

Black Pistols quickly stood up.

“Let’s go.”

“Hey, don’t grab my neck—”

Before he could finish, Red Shadow vanished with Black Pistols.

They existed for only a brief moment, like a storm, and were gone.

Left alone, the reporter stared at the fading mist and let out a shaky breath.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Red Shadow appeared and looked around.

“Something’s off.”

“What?”

“What could Sunshine and the Black Cloak possibly gain from making a scene at a time like this?”

“Whatever it is, he probably doesn’t think I’m dead. Looks like he planned to hand me over to the Central Army.”

“And yet you still came out here knowing that.”

“You did too, didn’t you? You knew it and still came after the Black Cloak.”

He wasn’t wrong, but a bad feeling crept up on him.

Like grains of sand in his shoe, an uneasy dread stirred in his chest, as if something terrible was about to happen.

Nothing’s happened to Giselle… right?

As he nervously bit his lip under the mask, he spotted a broadcast van in the distance.

<M.C Today>’s camera was filming this way.

“Ugh. Let’s get out of here.”

If they’d had a motorcycle, they could’ve easily shaken them off.

Snap.

Red Shadow snapped his fingers, and the broadcast van suddenly lifted into the air, crashing onto the opposite lane with a loud bang.

The vehicle flipped over completely.

After glancing at the camera with disdain, Red Shadow quickly returned home with Black Pistols.

— Black Pistols and Red Shadow are seen standing together and talking. It’s extremely rare for them to appear in daylight like this.

— What could they be discussing? Black Pistols is known to despise Red Shadow, yet from this footage, they seem quite close.

— Even if they’ve long been rivals, they’ve worked together on many incidents. Given their shared enemies, their cooperation makes sense.

— Have you ever thought maybe they’re just pretending to dislike each other? Acting that way for mutual benefit, like some kind of roleplay!

— Please, stop talking like a tabloid! This is exactly why people call us gossip media.

The TV filled the empty living room with noise.

Giselle was nowhere to be seen. With no sign of her presence, Red Shadow didn’t even think to remove his mask as he grabbed the doorknob.

Whoosh—

When he opened the door, he saw her forehead peeking out from under the blanket.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The tension that had built in his chest was brief, but enough to send him to hell and back.

Fine. She can ignore me all she wants.

As long as I can still see her before my eyes, I don’t care how she treats me.

Johan removed his mask and approached the bed.

Kneeling on one knee, he gazed at Giselle, fast asleep.

Her soft hair and pale cheeks stirred emotions too deep to describe.

Tenderness and boundless affection… just looking at her made his heart ache.

It was a feeling that could only be called love.

‘If my life has meaning, it’s you.’

Just having this burning, radiant feeling for Giselle made him believe his life was worth living.

“I would have asked for the first place to shine by your side.”

Her asking for that kind of seat… life, soul, even his own breath—he could offer up everything he had.

It was such a blind emotion that even he couldn’t understand it, yet it was too crude and filthy to be called faith.

Whenever he saw her red lips, he wanted to kiss them. Whenever their eyes met, a desire to possess her entire soul surged up inside him.

His hand drifted toward her hair. He clenched his fingers, forcing himself to focus on the sound of her quiet breathing.

Realizing that the chill of the air lingered on him, he opened the wardrobe so the winter wind wouldn’t reach her.

Inside was a knit sweater he always wore during the winter. A single long strand of hair was stuck to it.

Johan turned his head to check on Giselle.

A strange feeling came over him. He bit his lower lip like an idiot and picked up the sweater.

For some reason, he felt like a pervert.

***

He woke her up for dinner, but Giselle couldn’t open her eyes.

He gave her medicine and placed a cold towel on her forehead, even wiping down her arms and legs, but her fever wouldn’t go down.

“Thirty-nine point four degrees….”

Checking the thermometer, Johan’s face turned even paler than Giselle’s.

When he came home earlier, she’d just been sleeping deeply but otherwise fine. And in just a few hours, she’d become like this.

“She needs to go to the emergency room.”

“Let’s wait a little longer. It might go down on its own. Your face is known, if we just rush there—”

“She’s over thirty-nine degrees. What’s the point of waiting any longer?”

In the middle of her pain, Giselle barely managed to open her eyes.

“No. It’s just… a cold.”

The voice that escaped her dry lips was that of someone truly sick.

Cold sweat covered her trembling forehead, and yet she insisted it was nothing more than a cold.

“Giselle. Here’s an electrolyte drink. You should have it before dehydration sets in.”

Johan forced her to sit up and helped her drink it.

The liquid went down with difficulty, and she shivered violently from the cold.

Even when she refused, Johan stayed by her side with devoted care, while Raphael had abandoned her completely.

At that moment, she wished she could just die.

She no longer had the strength to bear her own life.

“Let’s change the towel.”

Tristan brought a fresh wet towel from the fridge.

Giselle went limp again and fell back asleep, and Johan, burning with worry, shut his eyes tight.

‘How can I just sit still watching this?’

Even the act of breathing looked painful. How could he possibly stay calm?

He groaned like he was the one sick and waited for the medicine to take effect.

But the fever showed no sign of breaking.

Thirty-nine point six degrees.

As soon as Johan checked the thermometer, he shot up, pulling on Tristan’s cap and mask.

He put a mask on Giselle too.

“Wait—”

“Cleaning up afterward will be easier than watching this.”

His patience had reached its limit. Before Tristan could stop him, Johan lifted Giselle into his arms and rushed her to the emergency room.