The Villain's Sister - Chapter 102

A pair of blue eyes was looking up at me.

He’d just woken up, but his gaze was so sharply focused that I wondered if he’d been awake the entire time.

Long fingers gently brushed over the back of my hand.

He threaded his fingers through mine and interlocked them tightly, pressing his nails down with persistent pressure.

“What are you sorry for?”

“What?”

“If you’re sorry, then don’t get sick.”

Despite the possessive touch, his voice still carried the drowsiness of half-sleep.

Johan brought our joined hands to his cheek, rubbing it against his skin. I could feel the rough texture of his face against the back of my hand.

“Please, just don’t get sick. Last night was… really awful.”

Speaking in a tone I’d never heard from him before—half pleading, half whining—Johan was suddenly pressing his lips against the back of my hand.

Usually, he was either composed and intimidating or overly polite, but right now, he looked like a child seeking comfort.

It felt like feathers were fluttering inside my stomach, tickling me from within.

If I coughed, it might’ve cleared up, but what rose instead was a tender, swelling emotion that made it hard to breathe.

“…I’m sorry. And thank you, and also….”

I wanted to finish my sentence, but my lips wouldn’t move.

I couldn’t think straight as soft kisses landed again and again—on every finger, nail, and inch of my palm.

My face grew hot.

Was Johan really someone capable of doing this?

I gave up on trying to respond. It didn’t seem like saying another word mattered at all right now.

“Giselle.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re sorry to me….”

“If you’re about to ask me to leave with you—”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“…Can I touch your hair?”

Blink. Blink.

Even after I blinked several times, Johan was still looking at me with that hopeful expression.

I thought I was imagining things because I hadn’t fully woken up yet, but apparently not.

“…Uh, sure.”

Once I gave permission, he reached out with his free hand.

If I’d paid closer attention, I might’ve noticed how his fingers were trembling slightly as he brushed a few strands of hair away from my cheek.

His hand gently ran from the roots to the tips of my hair, his fingers parting it softly, gently.

When his hand reached the ends, he lingered there for a moment, fiddling with the bleached, frizzy strands before reluctantly pulling away.

When our eyes met, he gave a shy, awkward smile.

It was the first time I’d seen him react like that.

“I’m glad your fever’s gone down.”

“Yeah. I definitely feel better than yesterday.”

“Stay in bed a little longer. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna wash up first.”

Now that I thought about it, I’d been sweating all night without washing up…. I glanced at Johan’s hands briefly.

Yeah. He’d be fine. Probably.

I quickly got up and stepped outside.

Tristan was sprawled on the living room sofa, sleeping like the dead.

“Did he go on patrol last night?”

“I’m not sure.”

After thinking for a moment, I decided to give Tristan a small lesson.

I rummaged through the drawers, found a pen, and began drawing bold, confident strokes across his sleeping face.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna join me?”

“No, thank….”

Johan reflexively started to refuse but then paused, one eyebrow arching elegantly.

It seemed even he was a little tempted after seeing the ridiculous doodles covering Tristan’s face.

But maybe he thought such childish tricks didn’t suit his dignity, because even when I handed him the pen, he didn’t take it.

Instead….

“This pen might work better.”

He picked out another pen himself and placed it in my hand.

I drew a third eye right above Tristan’s eyelids and neatly tied back his bangs with a hair tie.

Johan curved his lips in a crooked smile and went off to cook.

The image of him smiling lingered beneath my eyelids.

Without realizing it, my lips lifted too, following his.

When Tristan stirred in his sleep, I panicked and dashed back to my room, pretending to be asleep.

Moments later.

“What the hell is this?!”

I pulled the blanket over my head and stifled a laugh.

“The makeup suits you. I almost want to invite you to a party.”

“You….”

Bang!

The door burst open, and the blanket was yanked away in one swift motion.

Tristan, who had removed the hair tie but still had the third eye and snot drawn on his face, was fuming.

“You must be feeling better if you’re doing stuff like this!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Only guilty people deny it first thing! You’re looking for trouble, huh?”

“No, but seriously, why’d you sleep in so late? Ah!”

Tristan locked his arm around my neck in a chokehold and scribbled on my face with the pen.

“You little brat. After everything I did for you, even getting you that TV. You should be thanking me, but you repay kindness with ingratitude?!”

I struggled desperately, but there was no way I could overpower him.

“Ughhhh!”

The pen ran across my face from my eyes down to my philtrum before he finally let go.

Tristan laughed out loud, clearly satisfied with how ridiculous I must have looked.

“Seriously. Did you have to go this far?”

“Considering how much trouble you caused yesterday, I’m actually being lenient.”

“Ha….”

A large hand suddenly pressed against my forehead.

“No fever.”

“Were you worried about me?”

I’d asked the question, expecting some sarcastic answer like, ‘I’m exhausted because of you,’ but instead, Tristan answered with a heavy look.

“It was hard.”

The way he said it carried the feeling that watching me sick had been difficult for him.

His usually mischievous eyes grew serious as he looked at me again.

“You’ve always been different, but you’re really not like Raphael at all.”

“Raphael?”

“That guy’s not the type to get sick easily like you. At the very least, you should’ve taken after him when it comes to health….”

Tristan twisted his lips and waved his hand dismissively, as if he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Go wash up. I’ll start the laundry.”

I was the one who had been sick, but somehow all three of us looked worn out.

When I first started getting close to them, I thought I wanted this kind of closeness. But now that I’d experienced it, the heaviness in my chest made it hard to call it pleasant.

***

— Early this morning, Red Shadow appeared in the emergency room of St. Carmelo Hospital. He was seen accompanying a young woman, presumed to be in her early twenties, as her guardian.

On the TV screen, footage looped of Johan appearing in the middle of the emergency room, surrounded by mist.

In his arms was me, half-unconscious, nearly fainting.

“Good thing the CCTV quality’s bad. Otherwise, they’d have recognized you immediately.”

“I was wearing a mask.”

“The most important part of the face is the eyes. Eyes, forehead, nose bridge—all visible. You think they wouldn’t notice it’s you?”

Tristan, sitting to my left, ripped open a jelly pack.

Johan, sitting to my right, handed me water and medicine as the clock hit the hour.

— A reporter at the scene stated that the woman referred to Red Shadow as ‘Johan.’ Experts speculate that the name may be an alias.

— After Red Shadow left, villains pursued him and attacked the emergency room, but they were subdued by Black Pistols, who happened to be passing nearby. They were later handed over to the police.

“You went on patrol last night?”

“I stayed near the hospital, knowing something like that might happen.”

“Ah… sorry.”

“Being sick isn’t something you need to apologize for.”

On another channel, an anchor was questioning an expert.

— According to information obtained by our network, Red Shadow wrote his name as ‘Johan Müller’ in the guardian signature section. The patient’s name was listed as ‘Jean Gate.’ Could this detail help uncover Red Shadow’s true identity?

— Highly unlikely. Red Shadow is meticulous by nature. Over the past seven years, police have made numerous attempts to uncover his real identity, but none have succeeded.

“Come to think of it, your suit and shoes… where did you get those made? They’re not off-the-rack.”

“Interested?”

“We’ve been digging hard trying to track you down, but nothing comes up. I’m just curious.”

Tristan took Johan’s question as if he were mocking him, and irritation flickered across his face.

Johan answered casually, “Custom-made.”

“We checked every tailor we could find.”

“They wouldn’t be on Mist Island.”

Johan let out a short, quiet laugh through his nose.

Seeing that the tension between them was about to turn into a full-blown fight, I quickly changed the channel.

Morning Issue, the nation’s favorite guilty pleasure, was noisily reporting on yesterday’s events.

— A reporter on the scene said the moment looked so affectionate! Could she be his wife? His girlfriend?

— The news estimated Red Shadow’s age to be mid-twenties, while the woman appeared to be in her early twenties. Their last names are different, so she must be his girlfriend.

— Jean Gate must know who her boyfriend really is, right?

“What a load of nonsense….”

Tristan grumbled again, and I quickly handed back the jelly I’d stolen from him earlier.

Meanwhile, Johan’s lips twitched slightly upward as Morning Issue continued its stream of absurd commentary.

— He showed up in the middle of the ER, knowing reporters would swarm there, just to check on his girlfriend. That’s how worried he must’ve been.

— Turns out even the villain hunter’s still a man at heart!

— Wow, this is the first time Red Shadow’s ever felt so human.

“Why do they always say the dumbest things? Do you actually enjoy this?”

“There’s a certain joy in listening to nonsense.”

The CCTV footage replayed again on screen.

First, the mist formed, then Johan and I appeared within it.

— It’s the first time we’ve seen him in casual clothes! Oh, wow! That cap is Mist Island Immer merchandise! He’s a basketball fan! My son has that too!

— That confirms it. His hometown must be Mist Island.

— Just from a glance, that knit sweater looks like 100% cashmere. Imported, top-quality cashmere! I tried buying it four years ago, but I hesitated because it was so expensive.

— Is it luxury?

— Of course! It costs 6.2 million Raphens per piece!

— That explains why he paid cash at the ER with no insurance. He’s loaded!

“…6.2 million Raphens?”

Even when Raphael handed out money like pocket change, he wouldn’t spend that much on a single piece of clothing.

When I slowly turned my head, Johan just looked back with a calm face, wondering what was wrong.

“Most people invest in houses, not clothes, you know?”

“Clothes are something you wear every day. A house just needs to block the wind and rain. And if I want to move, I can do that anytime.”

“Uh….”

“That’s why rich people are all the same.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

— A rich man who’d risk his identity being exposed for his girlfriend! So devoted, so sexy, isn’t he?

“Hey. Turn that crap off.”

Tristan snatched the remote from me in annoyance.

He tried to suppress his irritation, but of course, his face said everything.