The Villain's Sister - Chapter 107

Black Pistols gave Red Shadow a hand signal.

You go behind, I’ll take the front. Let’s finish this.

Whether Red Shadow ignored him or just didn’t understand, he floated in the air, watching Black Cloak through the window.

‘A rift….’

Just like what he’d seen inside Giselle’s consciousness, he could see a crack in the world.

Blue gas leaked through the gaps of the rift.

Red Shadow’s form disappeared with a wisp of smoke.

He appeared behind Black Cloak and slashed with his knife. The blade was swallowed by the hem of the cloak.

When the shadow grabbed his wrist, sparks ran along the darkness, burning it away.

“Damn it. You never listen to anyone, do you?”

Black Pistols charged toward the back door and opened fire on Black Cloak.

The rift in the world began to close.

A hoarse voice spoke from beneath the cloak.

“So you two have joined hands, huh?”

“Did you break Sunshine out of prison?”

“Our friendship was solid long before the underground prison. Sunshine’s an excellent partner.”

“Yeah? Then you two can be partners in jail.”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Dozens of bullets chased Black Cloak.

The figure appeared and disappeared, moving from one end of the warehouse to the other.

Instead of fighting Black Cloak, Red Shadow reached out toward the almost-closed rift.

Crackle! Boom!

Lightning-like static slammed into his fingertips.

‘This is….’

The torn dimension was trying to repair itself, but Black Cloak’s magic was blocking it.

He poured more power into breaking the spell.

Meanwhile, Black Pistols tossed away the empty magazine and loaded a new one.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

He fired a dozen rounds like he had against Red Shadow, but the enemy melted into the shadows, appearing and disappearing all around.

‘I’m running out of anti-magic bullets.’

It wasn’t just any opponent; he had to catch Black Cloak.

The man was skilled enough to break into the central government’s underground prison, and he was Sunshine’s partner.

‘Damn it. He should’ve just stayed rotting in prison.’

His parents had died because of drugs, and now this bastard was manufacturing and distributing weird gas on top of it. He’d completely lost his mind.

Bang! Click. Click.

The anti-magic bullets were all gone. The regular ones too.

Tristan pulled out his knife and charged.

The blade brushed past the cloak. The end of the wire attached to the knife was still in his hand.

When he moved the wire, the knife twisted its path and grazed the back of Black Cloak’s neck.

The cloak twisted sharply to dodge.

Black Pistols didn’t miss the unnatural movement.

‘That bastard… no way.’

Whish.

He grabbed the knife and rushed again, but Black Cloak vanished straight into the shadows, completely disappearing from sight.

“Goddamn it! Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”

Having lost the target, Black Pistols stomped toward Red Shadow and yelled in frustration.

The rift in the world was gone.

No trace of magic remained either.

Black Pistols slashed the empty air Red Shadow was glaring at, then slumped down to the ground.

Unlike Red Shadow, he couldn’t see the rift.

The same went for the blue gas.

The thought of missing their chance made him furious enough to grab him by the collar.

“Were you even planning to catch him?”

“Something’s not right.”

“What?”

“The blue gas wasn’t made by Sunshine. It leaked from the cracks in the world.”

“What are you talking about? What the hell were you even looking at just now?”

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?”

“If you didn’t, then never mind.”

He’d been stalking Giselle for a long time.

So the one who turned back time was most likely Black Cloak.

Unlike Red Shadow, who specialized in killing, Black Cloak’s power wasn’t as destructive, but far more diverse.

And the magic clinging to the world’s rift definitely belonged to Black Cloak.

“I’m heading home.”

“Wait. Hang on. Let’s talk after I put the clothes and bike away.”

“You’re a handful.”

Tsk. When Red Shadow clicked his tongue lightly, Black Pistols clenched his fist.

If I just hit him once… damn.

“You’re one to talk. Fine, I’ll give you the address. Let’s go there.”

Following Black Pistols’ lead, Red Shadow moved.

That place was an old road near Tristan’s apartment.

After about five minutes of walking, a residential area appeared.

He parked his motorcycle in a shed beside one of the houses.

“This is my parents’ house. I used to keep it in a slum garage, but after my mom was hospitalized, I started parking it here.”

Red Shadow glanced around the shed.

It was filled with professional-grade tools and magic parts, as if he’d tuned the bike himself.

While refilling his magazine, Black Pistols explained, “My dad used to be a magic equipment engineer. I picked up a lot just by watching him.”

“Parking here might draw the neighbors’ attention.”

“They’re all empty houses. Everyone went bankrupt during the financial crisis ten years ago. The only one left is ours. There’s an old man next door, but his eyesight’s bad, and he can barely hear.”

Tristan shoved his helmet into the cabinet, fanning the sweat-stuck black T-shirt clinging to his body as he continued.

“And even when I ride the bike, no one connects me to Black Pistols. I was pretty notorious back in middle and high school.”

Tristan led Red Shadow inside.

It was a typical two-story home. The furniture and wallpaper gave off a warm feeling, but the empty air carried the chill of a place no one lived in.

Leaving Red Shadow in the first-floor living room, Tristan went upstairs and came back with a T-shirt and sweatpants.

“Change.”

“No.”

“Come on. If you go back now, Giselle’s probably asleep, and both your clothes and mine are in the closet in her room.”

“Why are you assuming I’ll go back?”

“So you’re not? Great, that saves me the trouble.”

The white mask tilted, glaring at Tristan.

Whish.

Taking the clothes, Red Shadow changed in the bathroom and came out again.

By then, Tristan was in the kitchen sipping hot chocolate. The moment he saw Johan, he spat it out.

“Pfft! I’ve never seen anyone look so awful in a T-shirt. Just stick a collar on your neck or something.”

Johan, in a white shirt and gray sweatpants, looked as out of place as someone wearing a tuxedo to a basketball court.

Holding back his irritation, Johan took the hot chocolate Tristan handed him and forced down a sip.

They didn’t talk much.

They’d clashed countless times, pointed guns and magic at each other with real intent to kill, but the silence they shared now wasn’t bad.

They sat quietly, letting the night linger around them.

“I’ve got a question.”

“What is it?”

“Why did you keep working as a hero even after putting Sunshine away?”

“…I don’t know.”

Tristan, refusing to dodge the question, confessed calmly.

“It started because of the limits of being a cop. That bastard kept screwing around, and I thought Big Bear or Raphael might kill him first. But now, I don’t know anymore.”

“You sound tired.”

“Life’s a mess.”

Chronic fatigue, lack of sleep, bank loans.

He was so out of it most days that he constantly forgot to pay bills.

So when he finally put Myers behind bars and thought he could rest, the moment he went to bed early, all sorts of thoughts flooded his head.

The criminal who should’ve been in prison. The college days he could never return to. The classmates who followed the perfect elite course.

Whenever his thoughts went that far, the world itself became unbearable, and he’d end up shoving on his helmet and heading out again.

“People call Black Pistols a hero, but there’s no grand justice behind it.”

“If you’re that curious, try living it yourself.”

That one line was what had led him here.

He couldn’t bring himself to comfort his brother, who never recovered from their parents’ deaths.

“That’s why, once I put that bastard away, I’m quitting everything for real. I’m done with the police and with unpaid hero work. My goal was to become a prosecutor, not a cop.”

How did it end up like this?

Annoyed, Tristan threw the question back at Johan, hitting where it hurt.

“Did you cry a lot after getting dumped?”

“You must really have a death wish.”

“Too bad. You got dumped for working nights.”

“Shut up.”

“So why do you do this job? What got you started?”

It wasn’t easy to speak honestly to someone who wouldn’t vanish the moment you opened your eyes, unlike Willy.

Johan stayed silent, and Tristan gave up expecting an answer.

He hadn’t really expected one anyway.

Johan finally spoke just as Tristan drained the last of his hot chocolate.