The Villain's Sister - Chapter 112

“…Giselle?”

“Johan?”

I lowered the gun and flipped the safety on.

Johan looked me over from head to toe, and only after confirming I was unharmed did the hard set of his face finally ease.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

“No. What about Tristan?”

“He’s packing his bag. He’s safe.”

He took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped my forehead. I must’ve been sweating a lot.

I snatched the handkerchief from Johan and wiped my face myself.

“Let’s go, quickly.”

When I grabbed his sleeve, smoke filled my vision.

Tristan was leaning against the wall in the wrecked corridor, gathering his bag and mine.

“You okay?”

“What do you take me for? You?”

“Thanks to you.”

“We’ve got nowhere else to go, so let’s go to my place. I need to grab my bike and magazines anyway.”

When I took the bag from Tristan, Johan intercepted it midway.

Before I could say it was fine, we were swallowed by smoke again.

In the house filled with a warm atmosphere, just like Linda’s personality, we found water to drink and caught our breath.

Before the tension could fully ease, a voice came through the radio. It was Logan Goldman, the Organized Crime Division team leader we’d met at the police department.

― Gunfire and an explosion reported at the Duke of Valkenstein’s residence. Strictly control media access.

“How did they know we were there?”

“Someone from the distant residential area probably saw the lights on at the mansion last night and reported it.”

“It must’ve looked suspicious since the building’s been abandoned for so long.”

“You should’ve crawled back home once in a while.”

My head was spinning. My stomach churned like I was about to throw up.

When we turned on the TV, the media coverage was already moving fast.

― …The Duke of Valkenstein is known to have gone into seclusion in Paradise Hill City seven years ago, after being discharged due to injuries.

A photo of Johan appeared on the screen, his face still full of youth, the baby fat not quite gone.

Compared to now, he looked younger, with a fresh, almost bright air about him.

Tristan and I turned to Johan at the same time.

“Go.”

“Protecting you comes first, but—”

“If I disappear, it’s just a simple missing person case. If the Duke of Valkenstein goes silent, it becomes a political issue.”

The time was 9:14.

Tristan was set to leave at ten, the transfer would start at eleven.

And the train departed at 11:15. There was time.

“…Take care of Giselle.”

“Got it.”

“You’ll need to wait here until I return.”

“We will. Go.”

Johan stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, whether suspicion or unease. When I waved, he finally turned and left.

“Got any bullets left?”

“I barely fired, so plenty. More importantly, Tristan. Listen carefully. I was planning to tell you right before we split up, but I think I should confess while I can.”

“Confess? Is this the kind that makes my heart drop, or flutter?”

I rubbed the edge of the water cup still clutched in my hand.

After hearing this, he might think I’d lost my mind.

“I messed with Sunshine a bit.”

“What?”

“I set a meeting with Sunshine on Tevenet Avenue at 11:10 today. And I’m planning to send you there.”

“You know what kind of bastard Sunshine is. Are you insane?”

Tristan raised his voice without giving me a chance to explain.

“What the hell have you been doing behind my back!”

“He found out I’m White Hands and threatened me, so I had no choice but to play along.”

“If this goes wrong, your identity gets exposed!”

“Then don’t let it go wrong. Just arrest him. It’s better for my being White Hands to come out than to be used by him.”

Tristan raked his hands roughly through his hair, squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a pained groan.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? If I’d known, I would’ve moved first.”

“You know what Johan’s like.”

If Johan found out, he would definitely kill Sunshine.

And if Tristan patrolled every night trying to catch Sunshine, the bastard would realize sooner or later that I’d joined hands with Tristan.

So we needed to wait for the right chance.

A perfect opportunity for Johan not to know, and for the Black Pistols to arrest Sunshine.

“…Thank you. I’ll make sure to catch him.”

“Good luck.”

“You too. And don’t be too cold to that bastard Johan. He’s useful, so keep him around for now, then dump him once you’re safe.”

“I will. …Tristan. Thank you for everything.”

We exchanged our final goodbyes.

We shook hands, then pulled each other in like men do, bumping shoulders and patting each other’s backs.

“You’ve been through a lot too. Be happy.”

“You too.”

After the brief farewell, Tristan immediately gathered his weapons and headed out to the scene.

He planned to secure a position in advance and lie in wait for Sunshine.

Sunshine could go to hell.

What kind of idiot teams up with a stalker and climbs into the same boat?

I found a sheet of paper and left a short note, then adjusted my crossbody bag.

I ditched the duffel bag, which was too easy to track.

“Goodbye, everyone.”

The preparations for escape were complete.

It was time to head for a sorrow-filled paradise.

The journey required only one thing: throwing away everything I had.

Villain. Hero. Family.

No exceptions.

***

10:50.

What greeted Johan when he returned after cleaning up everything was the silence of an empty house and its cold air.

A prickling sense of unease crawled over his skin, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“…Giselle?”

Johan chose to believe.

Believe in what… the blind hope that he hadn’t been abandoned.

“Giselle.”

The end of his voice trembled.

Tristan Lindbergh wouldn’t hurt Giselle.

There were no signs of abduction or struggle.

Was she hiding to jump out and scare him?

It wasn’t something Giselle would do, but he wanted to believe it was just an excessive joke.

“This kind of joke isn’t funny at all.”

He clenched his fist.

Johan opened every door and checked inside.

The master bedroom, Tristan’s room, the laundry room, the storage.

Giselle was nowhere to be found.

“Giselle, please….”

Don’t joke like this.

His mouth went dry, his fingertips tingled.

As he swallowed, his gaze landed on a letter lying on the table.

― I don’t want to drag anyone else into my life. I’m sorry.

Johan bit down hard on his lip. His mouth dried out completely.

The hand he’d clenched into a fist turned white.

“…Ha….”

For the first time in a very long while, Johan thought he wanted to die.

***

Black Pistols hid on the rooftop, watching the vehicles passing below.

It was almost time for the meeting with Sunshine. But since Giselle wasn’t there, there was a high chance he’d just observe from a distance and leave.

‘I need to find him.’

Sunshine.

No, Myers Bernadette.

That fucking bastard. Even if I have to break his legs, I’ll lock him up so he never escapes again.

‘That guy….’

He was disguised as a casual passerby, but thanks to working in the Organized Crime Division, Tristan knew the faces of most underground members unless they were complete rookies.

He was one of Sunshine’s subordinates.

Before Sunshine was sent to the underground prison, they’d distributed a new synthetic drug together.

‘He’s signaling.’

Following the direction he signaled with his eyes, they pinpointed the location of Sunshine’s vehicle.

Black Pistols didn’t hesitate.

After aiming the rifle they’d brought, they fired at the steering wheel.

Bang!

With the loud gunshot, part of the steering wheel shattered.

As the car lurched, he used a rope to land in the alley where he’d hidden his bike.

The bike burst out of the alley and chased after Sunshine.

With rush hour over and the roads relatively clear, the pursuit began.

“That bastard!”

Ignoring the signal, he nearly collided with a pedestrian crossing the crosswalk.

“Kyaa!”

“Gasp!”

Bang!

A bullet shattered the rear window of the car.

Bang!

This time, it pierced the passenger seat headrest.

Bang!

A direct hit to the tire.

The out-of-control car spun across the road and slammed into an oncoming vehicle.

Crash! Thud! Screeech!

The hood crumpled, and smoke poured out.

Bang, bang, bang!

The bullets passed through the shattered windows from the crash and struck somewhere inside.

Drip.

When Sunshine stepped out after opening the door, a large hole gaped in his left hand, blood pouring down.

The round glasses he usually wore were bent, sitting crooked.

Drip.

Tossing the glasses onto the ground, Sunshine staggered toward the other car involved in the crash.

He pulled out a syringe and injected it into the driver’s neck.

Then he dragged the man out and took him hostage.

By then, Black Pistols had arrived at the scene, dismounted his bike, and aimed his gun.

“Huuu. Haa. You damn bastard. Even my hand… because of prison….”

“P-please! Please spare me!”

Stuffing the gun barrel into the hostage’s mouth, Sunshine sneered at Black Pistols aiming at him.

“Know the difference between you and me? You’re too weak to watch someone die right in front of you. But I can! Hahaha!”