The Villain's Sister - Chapter 109

Big Bear, who made a business of buying and selling people, could judge a person’s worth better than anyone else.

Now that her organization was facing an unprecedented crisis, the most important ingredient needed to survive it was White Hands.

Seven years had passed since the war ended. The miserable lives of discharged soldiers were now being brought to light, and the problems they caused were making noise everywhere.

At such a time, the appearance of an Esper who could heal those left disabled after the war perfectly fit the needs of those in power, and it served as an ideal distraction for the media.

‘I could use that bitch to strike a deal with the government.’

As long as Raphael was locked up, it was impossible to obtain Fog’s code.

That guy would rather bite his tongue off than hand it over to the enemy.

‘If he didn’t use the code to find White Hands, then what the hell did he use it for—’

A bolt of realization flashed across Big Bear’s mind.

Raphael hadn’t killed or found White Hands.

He’d sworn that much on Styx’s liquor.

Which meant that bastard must’ve used the code to—

“He hid them.”

Or her, rather.

The most recent rumor of White Hands’ appearance, aside from Raphael’s case, had spread from an emergency room.

The child carried in from the department store bombing.

White Hands hadn’t been active for several years, so she’d thought it was just a false rumor, but if things had come to this, that changed everything.

“Puhaha! Haah!”

Big Bear burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking.

“Boss! We need to run!”

“Get in touch with Paul Tezereton.”

“The federal troops are being deployed here!”

“That’s why I said contact Paul Tezereton!”

His only son had died in an accident, leaving behind a single grandson.

Even though the man was a general with a permanent disability, he desired his grandson’s recovery more than honor.

A man like that would have no choice but to accept her offer.

“Tell him we’ve found White Hands and to delay the federal deployment.”

She already knew she was worth money, but not that she was worth this much.

Big Bear hummed a tune under her breath as it drifted through the office.

***

“Hurry up already. I’ve been waiting outside for five minutes.”

As soon as I stepped out the front door, Tristan, who’d been waiting outside, scolded me.

Wearing a cap pulled low and a mask, he looked more like a college student out playing basketball with friends than a cop.

“What even are you? A guy who carries checks in his wallet but doesn’t own a car?”

The reason Tristan had decided to tag along to the supermarket was to help carry the absurd amount of groceries we’d need.

We could’ve teleported there with magic, but showing up without a car might’ve drawn suspicion from the neighbors, so we decided to go ourselves.

As we walked past the apartment gate, a few residents chatting nearby turned their heads and whispered when they saw us.

“…We might need to move again.”

“Ah. It’s not that. It’s hard to say out loud, but….”

Tristan bit his lip like just thinking about it was painful, glancing nervously at Johan.

“What?”

“Um… you’re the husband, she’s the wife, and I’m the affair partner.”

“What?”

Johan stopped walking and turned to him with a terrifying expression.

Tristan recalled the moment Giselle had hugged him.

He could still remember the impulsive tension he’d felt that dark, chilly night.

“The rumor probably spread pretty vividly.”

When he saw the veins stand out on Johan’s forehead, Tristan pressed his fingers against his own temples. He felt a wave of self-loathing for having to explain something like this.

“I tried to explain that I was Giselle’s brother, but it didn’t work.”

“So that’s why they asked if you were her brother. It’s fine. That much I can deal with.”

“…You’re really having a rough time after getting dumped, huh.”

Johan took a deep breath and suddenly raised his voice, “Even if I’m married to your sister, does that mean you can just live in our house forever? I get that it’s tough, getting laid off and divorced, but don’t you think this is a bit much?”

The skin visible beneath his cap and mask was flushed red.

He had a good job as a police officer, and not just any officer, but an ace recognized within the force. But now, suddenly, he was unemployed.

On top of that, he’d gotten divorced. As if it wasn’t bad enough that his ex-girlfriend had cheated on him.

‘You idiot!’

Tristan cursed silently, but Johan didn’t care.

“Oh my.”

“My goodness, how unfortunate.”

“What a pity.”

When whispers began spreading from nearby, Tristan ground his teeth in frustration.

“You’re so dead.”

“Try me.”

Johan snorted and walked ahead. Seeing Tristan’s ears turn red made him feel oddly satisfied.

***

Despite his claim that he’d fill the display case with cigarette pipes and fountain pens, Johan’s apartment was truly modest.

The shirts filling his wardrobe were all high-end, but the worn-out bookshelf screamed vintage, and his electronics were completely outdated.

Even though he was born with immense wealth, honor, and privilege, he lived as humbly as an old man in the countryside. In that, the man named Johan revealed himself.

“People really are multifaceted.”

Who would’ve imagined that the Judge of Evil, who hunted villains every night, lived like a monk?

— The arrest of the first distributor of the blue gas has accelerated the investigation. Police are….

— …Experts believe Raphael used the name Anti-Venom because….

— Breaking news. The transfer date for Raphael, known as the head of Death Adder, has been moved up by two days.

The laundry I’d hung on the drying rack fell onto the tiled floor.

I hurried out from the balcony where the blinds were drawn and turned on the TV.

— It’s being interpreted as an effort to escalate the war against the underground organizations….

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since Tristan and Johan left.

Which meant it would take at least another thirty before they came back.

I grabbed my hat and mask and went out to find a public phone booth as far away as possible.

― Ah. You saw the breaking news.

“Just move it up to the same time, same place.”

― You’re not really in a position to be giving orders.

“Guess you haven’t heard that Black Pistols is roaming around. I could ask for his help any minute.”

― And if that happens, your identity will be exposed to the world. I’ve already tracked down which neighborhood you’re living in. Don’t get cocky.

“Do you not realize whose side the scales are tipping toward right now? You should know when to crawl out while you still can.”

― Puhahaha! You’re funny! Fine, I won’t go against you. Consider it done. See you in two days.

Click.

Sunshine hung up. I slammed the receiver down hard.

Without looking around, I walked quickly back the way I came.

“Miss? Miss from unit 401!”

I ignored every voice calling after me. With my hat pulled low, they probably couldn’t recognize my face anyway.

By the time I got home, my body ached all over from the tension.

After finishing the rest of the laundry, Tristan and Johan returned.

When two men built like walls walked into the small, one-room apartment, the living room felt completely full.

“Everything alright?”

Johan set the box he was carrying down on the table.

A purple bracelet dangled loosely from his wrist, looking strangely out of place beneath the crisp cuff of his shirt.

“Raphael’s transfer date was moved up by two days. The transport will be tomorrow.”

My hands froze mid-motion as I was tidying up. Lifting his head, he studied my expression.

“I’ll need to change the train reservation.”

“There’ll be agents waiting at the station.”

“No problem.”

I must not have hidden my heavy mood well enough.

His hand, the one with the bracelet, reached toward me.

But whether by accident or hesitation, it hovered near my face for a moment before withdrawing.

He pulled a pudding from the box and held it out. But before I could take it, Tristan grabbed it first.

Even as Johan glared at him, Tristan peeled back the lid and started eating without a care.

“When you get to Hellpipe City, grab that guy, cry your heart out all day, drink until you drop, and scream if you want. But don’t skip meals, and make sure you get some sleep.”

“How long does it take to feel better?”

“It took me about two weeks, but you’re different.”

“Then it’ll probably take me two weeks too. There’s no way I can’t do what you did.”

“Yeah. There’s no way you can’t do what I did.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

Ding-dong— Ding-dong—

The doorbell rang.

“Do the people in this apartment usually take this much interest in each other?”

“Of course not.”

“In a place where someone like him lives, even if a murder happened next door, no one would care.”

Before Johan could open the door, I went into the room and held my breath.

Just in case, Tristan stayed in the kitchen.

The kitchen wasn’t visible from the front door, so it was a good place to hide.

“Hey there, son. We’re here from the city for a residential safety inspection. This here’s Jacob Okitten. Anyway, we just need you to fill out a short survey.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Guess city employees are so busy these days they’ve gotta work weekends too. But your wife’s not home? The more participants, the better.”

“She’s not here. And I’m not interested in taking any surveys, so please move along to the next house.”

Click— Clank, clank.

The doorknob rattled, followed by the sound of someone tugging at the door.

“Giselle. Pack your things.”

I ran into the room and stuffed clothes into a bag.

Click. Thud.

The sound of the doorknob was followed by another, unidentifiable noise….

“Didn’t you say this was a safety inspection?”

“Why don’t you cooperate a little?”

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

People who lived in the shadows always carried that unique darkness with them. No matter how well they imitated normal citizens, it didn’t fool those who’d been in the underworld.

Anyone who had ever lived down there could tell right away when one of their own appeared.

“You’d better move that foot.”

“W-what are you doing, kid? Why are you pulling a gun for something like this?!”

“You know Mist Island’s self-defense laws are broad when it comes to home invasions. Move your foot.”

“So you’re Johan.”

From outside came the sound of a crash and a short scream.

In the living room, a man in a coat and a blond neighbor lay unconscious.

Tristan carried two boxes of groceries on his shoulders, and Johan held both Tristan’s and my bags.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The moment Johan wrapped an arm around my shoulder—bang bang bang bang!—bullet holes pierced the steel door.

Clank.

The doorknob broke.

Bullets flew toward us, but halfway through, they dropped to the floor.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Amid the relentless gunfire, smoke surrounded us.

And suddenly, I was in an unfamiliar house.

“Where is this….”

A ballroom straight out of a movie—a hall for banquets, carpeted stairs, a ceiling at least three stories high, and walls adorned with decorations worthy of a museum.

“I didn’t think I’d ever come back here.”

A bitter voice brushed my ear.

Thud.

Johan carelessly dropped Tristan’s bag onto the floor.

Tristan, setting down the grocery boxes, stood frozen, turning his head this way and that to take in the surroundings.

“You… don’t tell me….”

“Welcome to Duke Heinrich von Valkenstein’s estate.”

Johan smiled—a smile that resembled the mist of Mist Island.