The Villain's Sister - Chapter 15

Johan, holding a water bottle, approached me.

Unlike Raphael, who was somewhere between rugged and stocky, Johan had a rather balanced build.

However, he was taller than Raphael, who stood at 184 cm, and there wasn’t a hint of mercy in his gaze.

His expression devoid of warmth sent a chill through my chest, and I instinctively took a step back.

Thud.

My hip bumped into the sink.

There was nowhere left to retreat.

His indifferent eyes swept over me.

Face, nape, shoulders… lower, and lower.

Once he confirmed that I had stopped breathing, he raised one corner of his lips.

“That repays the debt.”

Though he lowered his body, his whisper carried not a trace of servility, for his nature was that of an apex predator.

Just like that, the hierarchy between us was firmly established.

I had no idea what had happened while I’d been unconscious and asleep, but I couldn’t just let Red Shadow go like this.

“You said you’d repay it twice over.”

I tightened my throat to keep my voice from trembling.

Feigning composure, I snatched the water bottle from Johan’s hand and set it on the shelf.

Johan’s gaze followed me. He was studying me.

Perhaps trying to discern whether I dared to speak like that because I trusted Death Adder, or if I was simply born this way.

“One for saving my life, one for the broken bed. That leaves two.”

“Two, huh…”

His sharp eyes narrowed.

Raphael sometimes made that face too.

When he knew his subordinates had betrayed him, but pretended not to, pondering how best to deal with the insolence and restore discipline.

“What? Planning to go back on your word?”

“Of course not.”

“Then that’s fine. Repay the rest anytime. And also.”

“Also?”

“Thanks for saving me.”

When I touched my wrist, I could feel the firm texture of the bandage.

If Johan hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have stopped at a wrist injury—my neck would’ve been broken.

I had a few minor scrapes on my knees and arms, but since I survived, those didn’t count as real injuries.

“Thank you.”

“I only repaid a debt.”

“Whatever it was. I didn’t want to die just yet. Are you okay? I hope you didn’t reopen your wounds because of me.”

“I’m fine.”

One of Johan’s eyelids twitched.

Perhaps because I had scarfed down soup after starving, my stomach wasn’t feeling great.

“Did Raphael leave any instructions? Like when he’ll be back, or not to leave the house?”

“None.”

“Got it.”

Then I should wash up and head out quickly.

It might seem crazy to leave the house after getting attacked here, but considering there was almost no chance that Raphael would leave the culprits unpunished, now was probably the safest time—when the attackers would be lying low.

More than anything, I just didn’t want to be home.

Without Raphael, the house didn’t feel safe.

“Get some rest, then.”

I passed Johan and went to the bathroom.

I washed off the cold sweat and the dust-caked hair from rolling on the floor.

I decided to throw away the blood-splattered clothes.

After drying my hair and putting on makeup, I found an outfit to wear.

I considered packing my things and staying at Maria’s place for a while, but discarded the idea since I could be putting her in danger too.

After spraying on my favorite perfume, I grabbed my bag and went down to the first floor.

Johan was nowhere to be seen.

—I’ll be back before nine.

I left a note, and just as I opened the front door, a long arm reached from behind and closed it again.

When I turned around, I found myself trapped by Johan, who was leaning against the door.

Though shadowed, seeing him up close again, his striking features caught my eye.

Wreathed in a cold elegance, he looked like a sovereign who ruled from a throne, observing all from above.

“You should stay home today.”

“I have an important appointment. I’ll explain it to Raphael, so don’t worry. I’ll be back soon, so please move your hand.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

If the original genre had been romance instead of action fantasy, maybe I would’ve felt a sexual tension in this situation.

A female lead who wants to run around outside, and a male lead who tries to stop her.

Quite the classic setup, isn’t it?

But I’m not the female lead, and this is a dark fantasy world.

The tension flowing between us isn’t some sweet sort shared between beasts sizing each other up.

“Did Raphael tell you not to let me out?”

“It’s my decision. From today on, I’m your bodyguard.”

“What did you just say?”

Is it because I’m the villain’s sister that only hardship and adversity await me?

I really don’t want to be entangled with this damn antihero.

***

Tristan had been on emergency duty since early morning.

Because Death Adder and Two Star had clashed without warning.

After Sunshine was imprisoned in the central government’s underground facility, Lucky Ginger began to collapse rapidly.

Lucky Ginger had expanded by relying solely on Sunshine, and unlike other established organizations, it didn’t have a solid foundation, so the fall was inevitable.

The current conflict between Death Adder and Two Star, who now split Mist Island between them, could rightly be called a war.

“Hey, you bastards! Why aren’t you moving faster? Want to watch civilians drop dead or something?”

Due to delays in backup from the Organized Crime Division, Tristan’s nerves were stretched to the limit.

The area around Vermont, where the riot had broken out, was under police control.

No, it wasn’t even a matter of control—access was impossible to begin with.

Gunshots and screams poured down like rain, and the sound of explosions was constant.

Two civilians were injured by stray bullets, and there had been a gas explosion at a bar, belching out acrid smoke.

“Shit.”

Tristan cursed roughly as he carried out a child who had been hiding in a local shop in Vermont.

They claimed they fired into the air to keep civilians from getting caught in the crossfire, but they were still an underground organization committing every kind of crime imaginable.

Just as he escaped the shop with the panicked child in his arms, a machine gun shattered the window.

“Bastards. If they want to shoot so badly, they should aim at their own damn heads. When’s the counterterrorism unit getting here?”

“They said it’d be about an hour.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Those bastards look like they’re almost done, and it’s an hour? Even if they arrive in twenty minutes, it’s still too late!”

“Hey, Tristan, calm down. I get that you’re pissed, but our priority is protecting civilians.”

“And I’m mad because we can’t protect them!”

No matter how much Death Adder’s business centered on illegal arms trafficking, how could a mere underground group be wielding machine guns like a military force?

Mist Island may be this country’s trash bin, but at this point, it’s more like a pile of vomit than garbage.

‘Something’s wrong. Raphael isn’t this reckless.’

He was the calculating type.

He had a temper, sure, and could be rough, but when leading the organization, he was more rational than anyone.

And this guy suddenly attacks Two Star?

If Two Star were docile, maybe—but its boss, Big Bear, was one of the worst of the worst.

Waging an all-out war with someone like that only ends when one of them dies.

‘This isn’t even Big Bear. All this just to catch Julio Guerra…?’

Something’s up.

Something fatal that the police don’t know yet.

Tristan checked the entrance to Vermont where gunfire still echoed.

The police couldn’t go in. They had to block off the road and prepare to pursue the gang members after the riot ended.

But the Black Pistols were different.

He was someone who could go where neither the police nor civilians dared set foot.

Once everything was calculated, Tristan quietly slipped away.

He took off his police shirt, revealing the black short-sleeve he usually wore underneath.

Hastily changing pants, he pulled a leather jacket from the car trunk and shoved his arms through the sleeves.

Just in case, he looked around, but in the chaos of war, no one was in any condition to check what an AWOL cop might be doing.

Finally, he put on his motorcycle helmet and charged headlong into the gunfire.