The Villain's Sister - Chapter 13

*This episode contains depictions of domestic violence and psychological trauma. Please use discretion.

Breaking the handcuffs was much easier than the chain.

“Satisfied now? You’re free, so what are you going to do next? You broke the bed, are you going to kill me now? Thinking of slitting my throat? Is that what you want?”

Right at this moment, I wasn’t afraid of the fact that Johan was Red Shadow.

Red Shadow was an intangible fear, but the past resurrected inside me was a fear with substance.

I pushed Johan’s arm and shoved him toward the door.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then go! Go to the bathroom or your own place—wherever you want!”

“It’s just a bed. You can always buy another one—”

“‘Just a bed’ to you! Do you even know whose it is? Do you?!”

I pushed him hard, but he didn’t move an inch.

That only made me more irritated.

I grabbed the vase beside me and shoved it into Johan’s hands.

“You want to break things, right? Smash this too! It’s worth fifteen million Lapencha! Why not break this instead of the bed?!”

When Johan didn’t take it, I threw it at the wall myself.

The sharp sound of it shattering pierced my nerves.

Startled by my outburst, Johan said, “…You should calm down first.”

“I saved your life, and you repay me by wrecking furniture! Even if your hands are free, that bed isn’t coming back! Do you get it? Once something breaks, it can never go back to how it was!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, but it didn’t feel relieving at all.

I was the one hurt by my own words, and beyond sadness, I felt hollow.

Raphael killed Andrew to save me—and I’m still like this.

This isn’t what I wanted… It’s Andrew Moltke who was evil… yet the pain was mine back then, and it still is now.

“…What do you even know…”

Tears trickled down my cheeks and soaked into the carpet.

That’s when I remembered something I’d forgotten.

In the moment when my home, my family, and my soul were being destroyed—the only thing that didn’t break was my tears.

* * *

Andrew was a vicious man who would chase me down and beat me even after I ran away.

He’s probably the only man who could beat his own child that way.

Maria used to hide me in her house whenever Andrew came home drunk and started smashing everything.

Even when Andrew banged on her front door yelling that he knew I was there, she never sent me out in fear.

Instead, she’d ramble on about this and that, trying to distract me from my panic and reassure me.

“I hate my bed. When I first moved to Mist Island, the grandma next door threw it out and I picked it up. Look at this, it’s totally sunken in.”

That complaint must’ve lodged itself somewhere deep inside me.

So when Raphael got us a new house and started buying furniture, I chose the guest room bed first.

“It’s called the guest room, but who else would visit us besides Maria? Let’s buy it to fit her size.”

Back then, Liam wasn’t part of Death Adder yet, and Raphael didn’t allow any of his crew inside the house, handling everything in offices or restaurants.

So Maria was the only outsider who knew our home address.

That’s why the guest room became Maria’s room.

“Yeah. If it’s Maria, she deserves at least this much. Buy the carpet and nightstand to match her taste too.”

Raphael wanted to thank Maria for taking care of me while he was away, but Maria firmly refused.

She said it was only natural between friends, and accepting anything would hurt our friendship.

I was thrilled when we bought the bed.

After always being the one indebted to her, I was finally able to give something back. It made me genuinely happy.

“…That bed is Maria’s. How could you break it…”

Choosing the bed and decorating the room was my unspoken letter to Maria.

Just like you took me in, I’m always ready to welcome you too.

And I was so, so thankful…

The feelings packed into that bed were too complex to put into words.

So when I saw the ruined room, I wasn’t just angry—I burst into uncontrollable tears.

“I should’ve made you sleep in the attic. Or given up my own room. What is this…”

I collapsed from unbearable grief, sobbing.

I hated how my heart still trembled from the banging noises, and how assigning meaning to just a bed made me feel miserable.

Andrew Moltke, who made me like this, had died long ago—but I wanted to kill him all over again.

And I wanted Johan to just disappear.

And I wanted the sticky wound inside me to finally vanish. I didn’t want to suffer anymore.

It was a horrible morning in every way.

***

The soft rustle of the blanket felt nice.

I didn’t want to get out of bed, but having not eaten all day, I had no energy left and had to force myself up.

After crying and shouting so much in the morning, I thought Red Shadow might kill me just out of annoyance.

Contrary to my expectation, he sincerely apologized and even brought water from downstairs to comfort me.

I ignored him and came back into the room, lying in bed all afternoon.

Anxiety etched by experience doesn’t fade so easily—unless I fall asleep and relax my body, the unpleasant sensation flows across my shoulders all day long.

“…It’s already six.”

Raphael probably won’t be back until tonight.

I carefully rubbed my swollen eyes and sat up.

Before Raphael came back, I had to eat something and tidy up the room.

The moment he found out what happened today, this house would turn into a battlefield.

“Are you in there?”

I knocked on the guest room door.

I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I couldn’t just ignore him either.

There was no response from inside.

“Johan? I’m opening the door.”

When I turned the knob, I saw the room had been neatly cleaned.

The destroyed bed frame was gone, leaving only the mattress on the floor.

The wooden fragments scattered across the carpet had also been cleaned up.

‘Where did he go?’

Did he go back home?

Just in case, I checked the other rooms and the bathroom, but Johan was nowhere to be found.

After causing all that trouble, he just left, huh.

So much for all that talk about repaying favors twice and vengeance tenfold. Guess it was just bluster.

‘Let’s just eat.’

I went downstairs and started preparing a late meal.

While heating up the meat Liam had bought, I chugged down water.

As the blockage in my chest loosened, I realized just how thirsty I was.

That’s when I heard small footsteps outside the kitchen.

Even with carpet on the floor, you can’t completely erase the sound of movement.

“Liam? Liam, is that you?”

Raphael would make noise coming in and toss his car keys into the basket.

Only Liam walked that carefully.

“Did you come with Raphael? He’s not hurt, is he?”

I set down the glass and stepped out of the kitchen. That was a huge mistake.

Click.

A loaded gun was aimed at my head.

The moment I turned the corner from the kitchen into the hallway, armed men appeared.

If it were one or two, maybe I could handle it, but with four, escaping seemed impossible.

I raised my hands, palms open, showing I didn’t intend to resist.

“Shut up and follow us quietly.”

Did they come knowing Raphael wouldn’t be home?

Raphael’s address shouldn’t be this widely known…

Even if someone knew where the base was, most didn’t know the exact house address.

Where are the guns kept?

Two in the bathroom, one in the front drawer… Oh, and there’s a golf club at the front door.

“I can hear you scheming. Move unless you want a hole in your head.”

One of them approached and tapped the back of my head with the muzzle. I stumbled forward from the impact.

If I get taken away like this, who knows what they’ll do to me.

But if I resisted recklessly, they might really kill me right here.

If threats don’t work, they’ll negotiate—and they don’t need me alive to negotiate.

Bluntly put, even if these guys trade my corpse, Raphael would comply.

He’d at least want to retrieve my body and give me a proper funeral.

“You look even prettier up close.”

“As if she wouldn’t be Anti-Venom’s. Cut the crap and let’s go.”

The man who said that gave me a push.

As we passed the hallway, I glanced out the window and saw a black car parked beside the house.

Who sent them?

What’ll happen to me if I get taken away like this?

“Why aren’t you moving?”

“Ah!”

The man struck the back of my head, and the force knocked me to the floor.

I caught myself with my tied hands, but my wrists bent painfully.

My oddly twisted fingers felt like they might break.

“Quit whining and get up.”

At least give me a moment to stand…

As I tried to get up and staggered from the dizziness, one of the men grabbed my collar and yanked me up.

Worried he might slap me, I looked up to gauge his expression—and hot blood splattered across my face.