The Villain's Sister - Chapter 2

Black Pistols got his hero name because he wildly fired tranquilizer darts with his black pistols.

He had a natural gift for hitting his mark and was a man who never missed a target.

“Hey, hey!”

Snap. Snap.

After handing the handcuffed robber over to his colleagues, Tristan snapped his fingers in front of me.

Only then did I come to my senses.

“Ah… yes, yes.”

“Are you alright?”

“Uh… no… yes…”

I was so startled that my chest was still trembling.

The pounding of my heart wouldn’t settle down—it was from the fear of nearly dying and the thrill of having the main character standing right in front of me.

“I’m fine. You saved me. Thank you. Um… could I ask your name?”

“No need to know. You seem pretty shaken up, so stop by a pharmacy on your way home and get a sedative or something.”

Tristan spoke in a much more cynical tone than I had expected.

His eyes were cold, and his manner toward citizens was more like a grouchy neighbor than a police officer.

“Aren’t you going to take my statement?”

“Did you suffer any financial loss?”

“No. My money should still be in that bag.”

“Physical injuries…” He scanned me from head to toe and continued casually, “Doesn’t look like it. Even if you did, you should know it’s nearly impossible to get compensation for something like this from a bank robber. If we wrote a report for every little thing in Mist Island, the police archives would have to be moved to a library. But if you really want to file one, I can call someone appropriate.”

“No, that’s alright. I really appreciate you saving me today.”

If I filed a report, my identity would be exposed, and that would only make things worse for me.

As I let out a silent sigh of relief, a sudden thought crossed my mind.

If I got to know Tristan Lindbergh, maybe the original story where Raphael falls could change.

I forced a calm expression and approached him.

“As a token of my gratitude—”

I was trying to strike up a conversation in any way I could when Tristan walked past me and yelled at a colleague behind me.

“Hey, you punk! Didn’t I tell you not to slack off during your shift? Do you know how long it’s been since this started? Get your ass in gear!”

Seeing him blow up like that, I figured it was better not to push my luck.

‘At least I made contact.’

Given how shaken I was, it seemed best to head home for today.

With help from the bank staff, I got my money refunded and made my way home.

***

On the way home, men in suits were smoking in every narrow alley I passed.

They were all members of Death Adder.

I lowered my head to avoid them.

Instead of having me guarded directly, Raphael chose to teach his men strict rules and make my face known among them.

Never lay a hand on civilians.

That was Death Adder’s first rule.

‘Thanks to that, Death Adder isn’t judged as harshly as the wrongs they commit might warrant.’

Unlike other groups, they didn’t traffic humans or deal drugs that directly harmed the city—though they still did worse in other ways.

After passing the alley, I arrived home.

Click.

As soon as I closed the door, a sigh I’d been holding escaped me.

I leaned against the wall and buried my face in my hands, then noticed a letter lying on the floor.

“Ha.”

A dry laugh—or maybe it was a sigh—escaped again.

Even without opening the envelope, I knew who had sent it.

That damned stalker.

“Just let me catch you. I’ll kill you.”

I tore the letter to pieces and threw it into the fireplace.

As soon as the paper caught fire, the door burst open with a bang—Raphael was back.

“That bastard! I’ll chop him up and feed him to the dogs someday!”

“Raphael!”

He was staggering with a subordinate supporting him, leaving a trail of blood with every step.

As I screamed and ran toward him, Raphael shouted, “Stay back! Get to your room!”

I ignored Raphael’s words and approached him.

The blood was coming from his waist, but thankfully, it didn’t seem to be a very deep wound.

I quickly grabbed disinfectant, tweezers, and a clean towel.

I’ve seen wounds like this often enough to know what to do.

“Who did this to you?”

“Big Bear.”

“Gun? Knife?”

“Knife.”

“Damn it! Liam Fabian, why are you answering her? Deva. I told you to get in your room!”

“Please shut up and let me check your wound.”

As I lifted his clothes to check the injury, Raphael smacked the back of my hand with his bloodstained one.

The blue eyes, identical to mine, shone fiercely even through the pain.

With a chilling voice, Raphael warned, “Don’t look. Get to your room. That’s the last warning.”

“…Eat shit, Raphael Moltke.”

By ‘last warning,’ he didn’t mean he’d hit me.

It meant he’d have his men drag me away by force.

If he let me treat him, the wound would be healed in an hour, but he stubbornly refused to rely on me. I was beyond fed up with that.

I went upstairs and slammed my door. Only then did I hear screaming from downstairs.

“Stupid idiot. How long are you going to treat me like I’m still a fourteen-year-old kid?”

I was so angry, I ground my teeth.

What the hell had he done to come home in that state in just a few hours?

‘Big Bear is an esper. And Raphael must’ve gone charging in recklessly again.’

In Mist Island, there are three underground organizations: Death Adder, Two Star, and Lucky Ginger.

Each group specialized in a different type of crime, so they’d grown without conflict, but a year ago, things changed when the boss of Lucky Ginger was arrested.

That led Death Adder and Two Star to clash over the drug business Lucky Ginger had controlled.

Big Bear is the boss of Two Star, known for his powerful body and aggressive nature.

Raphael probably got injured today in a fight over drugs.

“Uuugh!”

Groans and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes rose from downstairs.

If he’s refusing anesthesia and groaning like that, he must be worse off than I thought.

Fuming, I stomped my foot hard and flopped onto the bed.

Raphael is always like this. He treats me like a child he has to protect forever.

For someone born and raised in Mist Island, seeing wounds like that is no harder than seeing mafia smoke or addicts get high.

“I’ve told you so many times, it wasn’t your fault that I almost died.”

When I was 14 and Raphael was 22, something terrible happened.

Because of it, I fell into a coma.

Raphael believed I nearly died because he abandoned his little sister and ran away.

So he threw his life into the trash, venting his rage, and tried to ease his guilt by protecting me no matter what.

Refusing my treatment is just an extension of that.

He knows that if my ability becomes known, I’ll be in danger. So even if he’s on the verge of death, he forces himself to endure it.

“What a fool.”

He’s barely keeping himself together, and meanwhile, I’m on edge every time I see him like this.

“You’d better be careful too, Raphael Moltke.”

If things keep going like this, Raphael will definitely die at the hands of Red Shadow.

That can’t happen.

He ended up like this because of me, so I’ll stop him from dying.

Even if it costs me my life.

***

Maria’s footsteps were light.

Click-clack—her confident high heels echoed.

Clack.

Maria opened the door with the key I’d given her long ago and came straight up to my room.

“Deva? Do you have a date or something? What’s with the makeup?”

“Not a date, but there’s a guy I’m kind of interested in.”

“You’ve got a crush? I thought you were going to become a nun!”

“Don’t tell Raphael.”

“You trying to get some poor guy drowned in the ocean or what?”

Maria burst into laughter and threw herself onto my bed.

As I looked in the mirror and applied lipstick, my lips turned a vivid red, and my face lit up like a blooming rose.

In the original Mist Island, I was the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

That’s why the owner of the cabaret where Maria worked once offered me a job.

“My sister graduated top of her class! And you want her to be a showgirl?”

Raphael had ranted about my school grades and beat the cabaret owner to a pulp.

Maria, lying on my bed, murmured hazily, “Deva. I’ve said it a million times, but you’re really beautiful. More than Jane Rose, the top actress in the country.”

“Quit it. That’s embarrassing.”

“You want to be an actress too. You watch movies every day and practice acting.”

“How could I do that? I’d become the most obvious target.”

I gave a bitter smile, shoved the lipstick into my bag, and stood up.

“How’s your boss? Still treating you badly?”

“Nope. After Raphael beat the hell out of him, he doesn’t even look me in the eye. Raphael really made it clear that he’s got my back.”

“That’s good. Still, just in case, if anything happens, drop Raphael’s name.”

“I already am.”

Maria and I had been childhood friends since forever, so Raphael thought of her like a younger sister too.

That’s why he didn’t mind her using Death Adder’s name.

After saying goodbye to Maria, I headed to the police station.

‘If I dated a cop, maybe Raphael would come to his senses.’

Even if Raphael didn’t turn over a new leaf, Black Pistols might not team up with Red Shadow to take him down, not if he were my boyfriend.

The problem is Raphael.

If he wanted, he could make my police boyfriend disappear without anyone knowing. But—

‘Someone like Tristan Lindbergh wouldn’t be that easy to kill.’

I made my way to the Organized Crime Division of the Mist Island Police Department.

Click-clack.

Every step I took echoed with the sound of my heels.

Eyes turned to me from every direction, regardless of gender.

Being the center of attention was something I’d gotten used to since I was little.

I wasn’t sexy like Maria or blonde and blue-eyed like Raphael, but I had looks anyone would envy.

Knock, knock.

I knocked and carefully opened the door.

Wherever you go, the violent crimes division is always full of barking voices.

This place was the Organized Crime Division—but even worse.

The moment I opened the door, a sharp voice stabbed into my ears.

“It’s a good thing the ones who died in the explosion were organ traffickers! If victims had gotten caught in it, we’d all be screwed, got it?”

Last night, the villain hunter Red Shadow had blown up an entire building with explosion magic.

Everyone inside had turned to ash. All they recovered were a few bone fragments and some teeth.

The explosion made waves not only in Mist Island but also in other cities.

Because of its brutality and extraordinary power.

The sheer scale of the blast, how the flames were amplified with magical energy, the level of skill it took to control it—

They were feats even government-certified Level 1 wizards struggled to achieve.

― …The central government has classified him as a high-risk individual under special surveillance…

The news was on TV in the corner.

“And what about that tip Black Pistols gave the press yesterday? What the hell were you doing while he was setting that off?!”

The atmosphere was clearly sour. This was probably not the right time.

Just then, someone beside me spoke, “Filing a complaint? Turning yourself in? What brings you here?”

Startled, I turned to see Tristan Lindbergh sipping his coffee.

He looked completely unbothered by the shouting from his boss and coworkers, like it was happening in another world.

Once I saw it was him, I smiled brightly.

“Hello. You’re Mr. Lindbergh, right? Do you remember me?”

“Who are you?”

“Me? You saved me at the bank.”

“The bank? Ah.”

“Yes! So you do remember.”

“Just get to the point. I’m kind of busy.”

“It’s just… I don’t think I thanked you properly that day. Do you have a moment?”

Our eyes met.

His silver-gray gaze held a kind of wildness, different from Raphael’s.

He took another sip of coffee, then clicked his tongue.

“What the hell. Looking like a damn squid. Quit bothering me and get lost.”