The Villain's Sister - Chapter 104

“Perfect. Was this made by that bastard, Mosys?”

“He’s on Winters 88th Street.”

“Ha. Said he’d start a new life after getting out, huh? And you, don’t go flashing this around in front of cops. I’m not your friend, and I’m not gonna keep cutting you slack.”

Whoosh!

The ID Tristan flicked landed neatly in Giselle’s hand.

She looked it over again before pulling a handful of drawstrings from the envelope.

A flood of colors spilled out, and her expression turned a little uneasy.

“There are… a lot of colors?”

“They all looked a bit dull, so I bought as many as I could.”

“…Thank you.”

Even though the Central Army’s deployment had reduced the bounty-hunting chaos, it still wasn’t safe enough for her to go outside freely.

She’d been cooped up in the apartment, lying in bed all day, so now that she was finally getting her strength back, Johan wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get bored.

“Doesn’t it bother you staying still all the time? The place feels small; you must feel a bit cramped.”

“I can handle it. Though Tristan did steal the TV.”

She shot a sharp look toward Tristan sitting beside her.

“I was reading fortunes. Want yours read too?”

“Fortune-telling?”

“I don’t really believe in this stuff, but I was bored. A famous fortune-teller in Black City taught me how to read fate using birth dates.”

“So if two people are born on the same day, they live identical lives? That’s all nonsense.”

“It’s just for fun. If you don’t like it, give me the remote.”

“Fine. From today, I believe in fate. Hurry and check it.”

Seeing how quickly he changed his tune, Giselle let out a mocking laugh.

Tristan played along with a grin.

“My birthday’s December fifteenth.”

“Hold on. I have to calculate the day of the week….”

After staring at the explanation for a while and muttering to herself, Giselle finally finished the interpretation.

“I couldn’t figure out the rest, but… it says you’ll have a son.”

“A son?”

“Yes. Several, actually. This character here means plural.”

“Really? Just by looking at me, don’t I look more like the type to have a daughter?”

“It’s like horoscopes. Don’t ask me if it’s right.”

“Do his next. When’s your birthday?”

Johan stroked his chin before answering.

Like Tristan, he didn’t believe in superstition, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Giselle. Mine’s November twenty-fourth.”

“Hmm. One second.”

Johan frowned slightly, watching Giselle as she read through the chart.

Talk about children—sons or daughters—meant nothing to him.

He wasn’t even in a position to think about marriage, just hoping the woman he chased wouldn’t push him away any further.

‘It’s enough that her face isn’t pale and trembling anymore.’

She still looked weak, but it was better than yesterday, when she’d been drenched in cold sweat and shivering.

“It says you’ll only have daughters. Several, like Tristan.”

“I can’t even imagine that.”

“Doesn’t he look like someone who’s never had romance or marriage on his face? I’m telling you, it’s all nonsense.”

“Jealous, are you?”

“What did you say?”

Johan didn’t bother asking what Tristan was jealous of.

It was the kind of comment that could spark irritation, so Giselle quickly stepped in.

“Quiet. I’m checking mine now.”

Since she’d already done a few, she finished her interpretation quickly this time.

“Oh….”

“What’s wrong?”

Giselle frowned and snapped the magazine shut with a thud.

“This is all superstition. How would a date know anything? It’s probably a scam.”

“What did it say to make you change your tone so fast?”

Did it predict an early death with no children?

Johan and Tristan dropped their teasing and stiffened slightly.

The mood was already tense enough; neither of them wanted to make it worse.

Tristan cleared his throat awkwardly and switched the channel to change the subject.

— [Anti-Venom Was an Illusion!]

— Why hasn’t Giselle Moltke revealed more truths? Is she really the true whistleblower?

The moment the large captions appeared, Tristan turned off the TV without hesitation.

“More importantly, once you start over, the government will fully support you if you just ask.”

“I’ve decided not to trust the police anymore. They’ve got informants among them too.”

“When I return to duty, I’ll handle the cleanup myself. Even if I say I’m in charge, no one believes it. So where exactly are you planning to go?”

“Once Raphael’s been transferred, I’ll take a train to Hellpipe City. It’s close to the border, and there’s an airport nearby.”

“Hellpipe City’s not safe. The crime rate’s high.”

From the bag tossed in the corner of the living room, he pulled out a gun and a magazine.

“Take it. It’s untraceable, so don’t worry.”

“Are the police even allowed to do this?”

“You’re not sorry for saying you don’t trust the police right to my face?”

“You’re right. Let’s call it even.”

“You know how to shoot, right?”

In front of Tristan, Giselle loaded the magazine, disengaged the safety, and adjusted her stance.

Her movements were steady, remarkably stable.

Watching her, Johan felt his chest tighten.

“Oh. Not bad. Did Raphael teach you?”

Ignoring the question, Giselle reinserted the safety and unloaded the magazine.

Johan asked, “Do you know Oscar Jackniper?”

For a brief moment, Giselle froze, like someone whose time had stopped.

A faint tremor flickered beneath her slowly blinking eyelids.

She shook her head. “I don’t know him.”

“Who’s Oscar Jackniper? A villain?”

“Are you certain Raphael’s the one who taught you to handle a gun?”

“Yes.”

Her clenched jaw trembled faintly.

Johan asked one last time. His voice was desperate, almost pleading.

“Giselle. Tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth.”

The tension strung between them felt ready to snap.

Only this woman could drive him to the edge of madness in such a short time.

“You have no intention of being honest with me, do you?”

Before she’d fallen asleep under Big Bear’s drug, Giselle had been wary of him, terrified even.

After waking from the nightmare that had nearly killed her, she’d softened toward him.

He thought it was gratitude for saving her life, but it wasn’t.

“The way you held that gun changed. The stance you used when we visited Maria’s house and the technique Oscar taught are completely different.”

“Who even is Oscar?”

Giselle snapped her head around, glaring at him.

“Oscar Jackniper? Who is he?”

“The one who taught you how to shoot, a man you call your brother, isn’t he?”

At Johan’s raised voice, Giselle flinched.

“If you wanted to hide that you have your memories back, you should’ve been more careful about how you held that gun. Instead of asking who Oscar Jackniper is, you should’ve asked what kind of person he is, or at least how I know about him. The you I know would’ve done that first.”

His tone, more refined than usual, carried a crushing weight meant to break her down.

Giselle remembered everything. She knew it all, yet chose to pretend she didn’t.

“It must’ve been amusing for you to watch me chained up like a dog. That’s the most perfect mockery I’ve ever known.”

The more he’d liked her, the deeper his disappointment. The more sincerity he’d shown her, the stronger his humiliation became.

Giselle bit her lip hard, not knowing what to say, then barely managed to defend herself.

“I told you I don’t know. I can’t tell if you act like this because I’m White Hands or because you actually like me… so I don’t even know if I’m allowed to want something from you… I really don’t know anything.”

“Ha! That’s what you call an answer? Should I just hammer it into that head of yours from start to finish right now?”

He’d already made up his mind to lose everything.

To Johan, the most valuable thing left wasn’t his bloodstained life or the existence that should’ve ended long ago; it was Giselle.

The only thing he wanted, the only thing he was willing to give up everything he owned for, was her.

Giselle went pale as she tried to explain herself, her trembling voice almost pitiful.

“I can’t take your life from you. With Raphael involved, there’s nothing I can do, and you know that.”

“Raphael, of all people… I hope that’s not the best excuse you can come up with.”

“‘Of all people’?”

Tristan quickly stepped between them, but unfortunately, it wasn’t very effective.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but both of you need to calm down—”

“You wouldn’t understand because you don’t have siblings, but Raphael is my brother! My one and only brother! He’s more important to me than love or romance!”

Giselle swung her arm to shove Tristan out of the way as she lunged toward Johan.

“You’re worked up. Sit down—”

“You’re the one who said you understood why I came back here better than anyone, and yet you said you had no choice but to kill Raphael.”

Giselle’s eyes grew bloodshot, but Johan’s voice remained cold.

“If I’d helped Raphael that day, do you think he would’ve repented? No. He would’ve gone right back out and committed more crimes. Then you’d have thrown yourself into danger again trying to catch him. Isn’t that the better outcome?”

“Jo—han—!”

Giselle screamed and glared at Johan for a long time.

When the heat on her face finally cooled and the marks her nails had left on her palms refused to fade, she spoke at last.

“This is why I said I couldn’t leave with you.”

The smell of tears filled the air, and she felt she needed to end it before it overwhelmed her.

So Giselle spoke, her words cutting even herself like ice.

“Stop confusing people and just choose one. Either repay your debt to me and settle the score between us before you leave, or give up everything and stay by my side.”

“You really don’t understand. From the moment I chose to help you, I gave up everything I had.”

“Go back to your old life. You can still do that, Johan.”

“Giselle—”

Johan tried to stop her, his voice urgent, but Giselle spoke coldly enough to freeze the air.

It was the same kind of vague terror he’d felt long ago, listening to a radio warning about an approaching storm in the trenches.

Giselle swallowed hard and finally cut him off completely.

“If you’ve thrown everything away, then I can throw you away too.”

“…You really….”

Smoke appeared, a red glow flickering in Johan’s high-saturated blue eyes.

By the time the slow, dispersing smoke cleared, Johan was gone.