The Villain's Sister - Chapter 113

“Only I have the antidote. You’ll have to choose whether to kill me along with this guy, or save him in exchange for letting me go.”

“You piece of shit.”

Black Pistols didn’t lower his gun.

“I should’ve killed you instead of throwing you in prison, fuck.”

“You don’t have the guts to kill. That’s how weak you are, and that’s why a day like this came, ugh.”

The gun aimed at Sunshine trembled.

Under the helmet, he ground his teeth, torn by conflict.

And anger.

A voice close to a groan leaked out from beneath the shield.

“Please get a grip, Myers….”

“You’re the one who should get a grip and live your own life.”

The one who could understand Giselle Moltke best was Tristan Lindbergh.

Even if he tried to stop a brother committing unforgivable wrongs, it always ended in going nowhere.

Crushing helplessness and a despair like sinking into a swamp.

Resentment and rage toward his brother.

And yet, a sliver of affection he couldn’t let go of.

If he could cut away that last grain of affection, he would gladly do so.

But he couldn’t.

No matter how much Myers retched up the affection inside him in disgust, the final speck lodged like a wick never disappeared.

That was what drove him mad.

“You bastard. I was wrong, so please, let’s stop this….”

When the Bernadette couple died, besides a little money, debt, and drugs, there was one thing left behind.

Each other.

But since they never learned how to cherish one another, they couldn’t hold each other up.

Tristan was consumed with just getting through each day, and Myers suffered alone, developing a dangerous curiosity toward the drug that killed his real parents.

“Ghk!”

The hostage’s face turned purple.

If Sunshine wasn’t stopped now, Giselle would be in danger.

Countless people in this city would surely have their lives ruined by drugs.

But, but….

“Ghh! Ghk!”

He couldn’t turn away from the hostage convulsing like he was having a seizure.

The hostage was dying because of Sunshine.

And Tristan Lindbergh, wearing the mask of Black Pistols, was a police officer.

He never wanted to be one, but the path he chose started with saving people.

So that no one would die because of Sunshine anymore.

And so that Sunshine wouldn’t be killed.

“I’ll drop the gun, so give me the drug.”

Black Pistols slowly set the gun he was holding on the ground.

Sunshine, pale from blood loss, let out a giggle. “Tell Giselle Moltke to brace herself.”

“Shut up.”

“Hahaha! You know this? In this city, being weak is a crime.”

“Close your mouth.”

“You shut up first, Brother. Before I put a hole in your head.”

Sunshine threw the convulsing hostage onto the ground.

Keeping the gun trained on Black Pistols, he stepped back, one step at a time.

When the distance was wide enough, he pulled a vial from his pocket and flicked it over.

Black Pistols snatched the vial out of the air and quickly fed the drug to the hostage.

As soon as he took it, the purple hue of his face started to fade.

But.

“Ghk! Uegh!”

The hostage began to vomit.

Hypoglycemic shock?

Or was the detox incomplete?

“Hey, hey!”

He quickly rolled the hostage onto his side.

He was just about to give first aid as best he could.

Grab.

With abnormal strength, the hostage seized Black Pistols’ hand.

Fingernails dug into the leather gloves.

“Ghhhhh….”

Even though the visor was pitch black, their gazes met.

Inside the whites of his eyes, where blood vessels had burst, the jet-black pupils erupted with the primal emotion any living person inevitably holds.

Fear.

The desperate urge to live, and the terror unique to someone who senses their own death.

Black Pistols, Tristan, was certain he would never forget those eyes for the rest of his life.

And then.

Thud.

The hand fell limply.

When he lowered his head, he saw the glove leather caught beneath the hostage’s fingernails.

“…Ah….”

A sound no different from a sobbing laugh escaped Black Pistols.

Whether it was the poison or shock from the crash, Sunshine killed him.

No, he killed him.

If he’d killed Sunshine earlier, this man wouldn’t have died.

“Ha….”

Thud.

Thud.

As he bowed his head, tears dripped onto the helmet visor.

He’d seen villains kill people countless times, but this kind of case was a first.

The man he’d thrown into prison escaped and killed someone right in front of him, and that bastard was his only younger brother.

Myers Bernadette, completely twisted after he let him go.

“Fuck, fuck— fuuck—!”

He screamed as if vomiting it out and wiped his face to clear the tears streaming down.

Thump.

His hand was blocked by the helmet visor.

Police sirens wailed in the distance.

A citizen who’d been watching came over, patted his shoulder, and said, “Hurry and go. Because of the central government, the police have no choice but to arrest you.”

Someone died because of Sunshine, and yet he had to run away in the middle of it all.

Black Pistols found the situation absurd.

He was beyond sick of it.

He wanted to kill Myers Bernadette, that fucking bastard, and quit everything.

The incompetent police organization. Being a hero. All of it.

Black Pistols forced himself to stand.

His legs gave out and his body swayed, but somehow he kept his balance.

“This isn’t your fault. You did everything you could.”

The sandwich shop owner who’d witnessed the scene tried to comfort him.

No. This wasn’t his best.

Tristan hurled blame at himself as he got on his bike and started the engine.

Even after leaving the scene to the sound of sirens, he couldn’t say a single word.

Red Shadow was right. Chasing ideals can make you lose everything.

So the life lost today was a sin he had to bear.

***

― (Anchor) Liam Fabian, known as an executive of Death Adder, attempted to seize Raphael ahead of his transfer at 11 a.m. today. After over two hours of combat with the central army, he succeeded in taking Raphael.

― (Citizen 1) …It’s truly devastating. I have nothing else to say.

― (Citizen 2) Still, I think we need to give the central army more time.

― (Citizen 3) Mist Island has its own laws and rules. Trusting the central government was insane.

***

― [Daily Issue] Raphael Escapes Transport Vehicle, Enters Full-Scale War with Two Star

― [M.C Today] Civilian Dies During Clash Between Sunshine and Black Pistols. Who Bears Responsibility?

― [Mist Island Times] Giselle Moltke. Whistleblower. And Red Shadow’s Woman?

***

― (Expert) Look at the gun Liam Fabian was carrying. That’s a government-issued weapon announced last January. This is an extremely serious matter that raises suspicion of defense corruption!

― (Expert) You could say that as villains from Mist Island relocate, Black City has effectively become a second Mist Island. Of course, there are clear differences between the villains of Mist Island and those of Black City. If Mist Island is made up of professional businessmen, then Black City is more fragmented….

***

― (Panelist 2) The media needs to dig into Giselle Moltke. The fact that Giselle Moltke stayed at the Duke of Valkenstein’s residence means she had a relationship with the duke. Of course, illegal trespassing is also a possibility, but for now, I think we should keep various possibilities open.

― (Panelist 3) The man who fled with her was Red Shadow. So it’s possible the duke and Red Shadow know each other. Maybe the duke is even backing Red Shadow. This is just speculation, of course.

― (Panelist 2) I’ll bet my wedding ring that the woman Red Shadow brought to the emergency room was Giselle Moltke.

― (Panelist 1) Oh… a villain hunter and a villain’s sister… Is that why she became a whistleblower?

― (Panelist 5) This isn’t the time for trivial love stories. The city is split apart. At a time like this, it would be great if our honorable war hero, the Duke of Valkenstein, would step forward….