The Villain's Sister - Chapter 21

Tristan asked, “Is it that guy? I think he was with you last time.”

Before the question even finished, Johan strode over.

A persistent light lingered in his gray eyes, and the once-gentle atmosphere shifted.

Though he didn’t have the raw, bloodthirsty air like Raphael or Johan, there was a distinct toughness found only in police officers who’ve dealt with countless criminals.

‘They won’t recognize each other, right?’

In the original comic, Black Pistols and Red Shadow crossed paths countless times at night.

Sometimes they pointed guns at each other, sometimes they joined forces to deal with villains.

But that was all during the night.

‘In the comic, they never met during the day.’

Many fans hoped the two would at least brush past each other, but the author never allowed such a scene.

If they did recognize each other… would they point guns and throw knives like during their patrols?

Tension crept into my shoulders.

But contrary to my worries, Johan merely glanced at Tristan and turned his attention to me.

“It’s one minute to six.”

“There’s still a minute left.”

“If you’re late again, I won’t be able to make allowances like I did today.”

My lips twisted involuntarily.

Tristan narrowed his eyes, demanding an explanation.

“A bodyguard my brother assigned to me.”

“Wow.”

“I should get going. Let’s meet another day. Next time, let’s watch a movie, have dinner, and grab coffee.”

“When?”

“I’ll think about it. I’ll call you.”

“Always on your own terms. Since I’m guilty, I’ll make time even if I have to take leave.”

“Great. Take care.”

After smiling and saying goodbye to Tristan, I started walking toward Raphael’s car with Johan.

“Wait.”

Tristan called out to Johan. I reflexively held my breath.

His sharp gaze lingered on Johan.

He had the look he wore when working.

A heavy aura settled over the air, as if to assert dominance.

“Haven’t we met before?”

“We did cross paths the other day.”

“No, not that. I’ve thought this before—you look familiar.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

The silvery-gray eyes scanned Johan from head to toe.

Maybe they’d encountered each other so often that even a silhouette gave off a feeling.

Johan didn’t yield to Tristan.

He looked at Tristan like a quiet nighttime lake.

One side was burning hot, the other ice cold.

Watching them, my mouth went dry.

“What’s your name?”

A scoff.

Johan let out a snort. It was an arrogant smile.

“Am I a suspect or something?”

“Ah. My apologies. Force of habit.”

Perhaps feeling guilty for his baseless suspicion, Tristan explained in detail.

“I thought you might be someone I knew from work or school, but thinking about it now, there’s no way I’d forget a face like yours. Anyway, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just be careful next time.”

Johan turned away.

I followed him, letting out a silent sigh of relief, when Tristan called out from behind.

“Take care, and let’s meet again!”

Next time, I’ll be sure to meet Tristan without Johan.

Why did that make me so tense…?

2. Three Acts of Origin

At dawn, a thick fog settles over Mist Island.

When the sea mist-laced fog dries in the morning sun, Act 1 begins.

Children go to school, and workers head to their offices.

Though crimes like bank heists and robberies still occur in this lawless city during the day, Mist Island remains a lively place.

But when night falls, the city transforms into a different face, and Act 2 begins.

Drugs, gambling, prostitution, robbery… countless sins awaken, and the city is instantly taken over by underground organizations.

Screams echo through dark alleys, while gunshots from fleeing criminals and police sirens fill the streets.

Then there’s Black Pistols, riding his motorcycle and putting criminals behind bars, and Red Shadow, who traverses the city alone, leaving behind a bloodstained trail.

They are both outlaws and defenders of justice, and also executioners of evil. However—

“You lunatic! I told you not to kill people!”

Black Pistols shouted, stopping Red Shadow as he was about to finish off a drug dealer.

Red Shadow flicked his finger, and with an unseen force, the dealer’s neck twisted.

“Bastard.”

To a hero who advocates for non-lethality, Red Shadow was just a villain he wanted to kill.

“How many times do I have to tell you to knock it off!”

Black Pistols threw a knife aimed between the eyes, but Red Shadow’s flick altered its path, embedding it in a wall.

He thought it’d be an easy dodge—but that just made it twice as infuriating.

“If you’re alive, you should be grateful and live a new life. Why are you still living like trash?”

Black Pistols twisted his lips, got off the motorcycle, and charged at Red Shadow.

A leather-gloved fist slammed into Red Shadow.

“Shit!”

The moment the fist made contact, it felt like punching through water.

An illusion. One day, I really will kill this bastard.

Red Shadow’s form vanished like a mirage, then he reappeared one step behind.

To the seething Black Pistols, Red Shadow offered a dry greeting.

“Long time no see.”

“You’d been out of sight, so I thought you’d finally died somewhere. Is your gut still intact?”

“Your foul mouth hasn’t changed.”

“Has my mouth ever made things worse? What’s your problem?”

Black Pistols checked the dead drug dealer.

The dealer’s bag was full of oxygen tanks.

“Blue gas again. Who the hell is distributing this? Sunshine’s been locked up, and Lucky Ginger’s supposed to be dismantled.”

“Could be another group using Lucky Ginger’s name. Or maybe a leftover ally.”

Under the helmet, Black Pistols’ face hardened.

The blue gas distribution was under current police surveillance.

Unlike Two Star, which had formed twenty years ago, or Death Adder, which had rapidly expanded with organized structure, Lucky Ginger was the weakest of the underground groups.

Since its boss Sunshine led everything, once Black Pistols arrested Sunshine, the group crumbled like sand washed away by waves.

But now, a new drug is being distributed in Lucky Ginger’s territory?

Unless someone’s declaring they’re taking over the remnants, it means survivors are plotting something new.

“Ugh—this is giving me a headache.”

Handling Death Adder and Two Star’s entry into the drug industry was already exhausting, and now there’s a new synthetic drug to track.

Working by day, working by night.

This damned city never lets you rest.

“You must’ve gotten something out of him before he died. Share it.”

“You’re pretty demanding for someone who wants something. I don’t like that.”

“If you hadn’t killed him, I would’ve interrogated him myself. Talk.”

“…He said there’s a meeting spot with the distributor once every two weeks. Doesn’t know if the guy’ll show or not, so sounds like a cautious one.”

“Where is it?”

“The blue gas is mine. You handle Two Star. You looked like you were struggling during that last riot.”

“What?”

“Instead of trying to capture them, just kill them on the spot. I don’t get why you insist on dragging that scum to prison.”

“Ha. Listen to yourself.”

Black Pistols, flaring up, spat out the thoughts he’d always held in.

“Hey. I think it’s hilarious that they call you an antihero. Anti-Venom or Big Bear? They outright say they’re villains. But you? You shoot and kill without caring whether someone’s guilty or not, then act all righteous and confuse everyone. You’re the worst villain on Mist Island.”

The public went wild for the well-dressed wizard.

A cruel figure who punished the guilty without exception—because the law didn’t work, people found it satisfying that someone delivered justice beyond it.

He couldn’t entirely blame the public, but still, the word “antihero” was a joke.

“All I want is to clean up trash. I’ve never had any childish dream of playing hero.”

“Lot of words for a bastard who got himself covered in filth just to clean up. Used toilet paper goes straight in the bowl.”

“Yeah. I’ll be the last piece of trash to be thrown away. Whether I end up in the incinerator or landfill, it doesn’t matter. I’ve prepared for it all.”

Red Shadow briefly thought about his end.

He never expected a happy ending.

From the start, he began this path to mourn the child who died so senselessly.

“I hope the bad people disappear. So that people can be a little less unhappy.”

The girl who had shown kindness to a man ready to die became a victim of the city’s violence.

So he chose the logic of blood and brutality.

Justice and heroism didn’t suit him.

A fairytale ending wasn’t meant for him.

‘Not worth it anyway.’

The place that fit him best was the trash heap.

Red Shadow, finishing his scathing thoughts, said, “And you? Playing the polished hero because you’re afraid of the trash heap?”