The Villain's Sister - Chapter 23

“Told you. Bring the code.”

Top-tier informant Fog extended three fingers on his right hand. He was an esper who dealt in information.

The very first moment his ability awakened, he had issued five codes.

Just possessing one of those five was enough to get the answer you sought, like the prophets of myth.

The problem was, very few knew the codes.

And even among those who did, only a handful were confirmed to actually possess them.

“Torture doesn’t work. Know why I’ve only got five fingers left between two hands? Because punks like you tried to get what they wanted without a code.”

Two hands, but only five fingers.

One ankle gone too.

Red Shadow lowered his gun.

He wanted to shoot him dead on the spot, but Fog was the best in the business—as long as you had a code.

“Give me the names of the ones who know the codes.”

“I don’t know. When the code first got leaked, I was so high I mistook my girlfriend for my dead little sister. How could I know?”

Leaving the chuckling Fog behind, Red Shadow stepped into the rainy alley.

Many were rumored to know the codes.

But only two were still alive.

A Mist Island senator. And Raphael of Death Adder.

The senator’s dementia had worsened to the point he couldn’t recognize his own family.

Raphael, meanwhile, was known to frequent Fog’s pub.

‘I’ll have to find Raphael.’

Maybe if he sliced off five fingers like his pal’s, he’d cough up the code.

***

While tracking Raphael, he spotted his right-hand man, Liam Fabian.

Liam was exchanging glances with a singer named Maria Rodriguez at a cabaret.

So he observed Maria Rodriguez for a week.

She was beautiful, but of little standing.

If such a woman was acquainted with Death Adder’s number two, she was either government or held some kind of value.

Maria Rodriguez became a useful key to reaching Raphael.

She frequently met with a friend named Giselle, and Liam, always at a distance, would disappear after keeping an eye on Giselle in Maria’s place.

Upon investigating the woman Liam watched, he got a hit on Raphael.

— Raphael Moltke. Age 29. Incarcerated for first-degree murder, later escaped. Currently assumed to be living under a false identity.

So it wasn’t an alias.

To lead an organization like Death Adder under his real name, he had to be either fearless or insane.

— The victim was his biological father, Andrew Moltke. Reportedly, after his sister fell into a coma from domestic abuse, he killed his father in revenge.

Johan instinctively scowled.

No matter how many criminals one encounters, the horror of children killing parents and vice versa never dulls.

That didn’t mean he felt sympathy for the tragedy of the Moltke family.

There was only one valuable takeaway from the documented misfortune: Raphael Moltke cherished his sister immensely.

“Don’t stay out too late. If it’s really late, sleep at Maria’s or a hotel nearby. If that doesn’t work, call me. I’ll come get you anytime.”

Watching the criminal nag his sister at the gate, he reached his conclusion.

Use that woman.

Seduce her to extract the code, or use her life to gain Raphael’s trust—Giselle Moltke was the key.

So, while recovering from a poisoned stab wound, he approached Giselle by exploiting her sympathy.

Risking his life, without fear.

***

“Where have you been?”

3:47 a.m. Red Shadow shed his three-piece suit and mask, returning to Giselle’s house as Johan.

He had confirmed that Raphael and Liam were dealing with traitors at the docks.

In other words, only Giselle was home.

Unlike her brother, Giselle went to bed early like any ordinary citizen, yet for some reason, she was still awake tonight.

“You didn’t sleep?”

“I woke up. What about you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Took a walk nearby.”

Giselle, holding a cup of warmed milk, glanced over him indifferently.

His disheveled black hair proved he hadn’t lied about waking up. She held out the cup.

“Want some? I haven’t had a sip yet.”

“I’m fine.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you a parrot? You keep saying the same thing.”

When she first saw him, she had been terrified and wary. Now, she seemed somewhat adjusted.

That didn’t mean she treated him comfortably.

She was a sensitive person.

The expressions that briefly flickered across her face, the occasional gleam in her eyes—those moments revealed it.

Like the day he broke the bed.

Freshly awoken, she screamed like a victim left alone at a crime scene.

Delicate, sensitive, and a little hysterical.

And she was Anti-Venom’s mistress while freely meeting the police and behaving however she pleased.

It had only been a few days, but Johan was already learning the hard truth: nothing in this world comes for free when Giselle is involved.

“Don’t go out recklessly at night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll be careful.”

To Red Shadow, nighttime being dangerous was like saying the plains were dangerous to a lion.

Johan answered halfheartedly, and Giselle frowned.

“Don’t mock me. No matter how great you think you are, the streets are crawling with criminals.”

“Your brother is one of them.”

“There are two heroes desperate to catch that Raphael. And you work under him. It’s fine if you meet Black Pistols, but what if you run into Red Shadow? He’ll aim for your head first.”

Giselle sipped her milk. A white mark was left on her upper lip.

Johan turned his gaze away, trying to ignore the milk stain.

He hated anything dirty.

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry.”

“If you don’t want me to worry, you should at least wash off the gunpowder smell before coming in.”

He sharply turned his head. Her lips, still marked with milk, came into view. His brows knit.

Was the smell still on him from when the Black Pistols opened fire?

He had washed thoroughly at the safe house. How did she know?

“Just kidding. You don’t smell like gunpowder. But when wind, night air, and seasonal scents mix, I can tell. You stayed out quite a while. Right now, you smell like shampoo.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you meet a woman? Or did you do something shady and wash up before coming back?”

Giselle closed the distance between them.

Under the yellow incandescent bulb, her face tilted upward toward him.

Deep-set eyes, long, thick lashes, and beneath them, strikingly dark pupils.

Uncaring, yet as if seeing through everything. Eyes impossible to read.

Sometimes, Johan got the feeling she might know something.

She was wary and tense, but didn’t push him away.

Desperate in some way. Suspicious.

Yet not aggressively trying to use him either.

The more he observed her, the less he understood.

She had no apparent power, no outstanding trait other than a beautiful face.

She seemed like someone who’d collapse if he simply pressed his hand against her slender neck.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You’re suspicious. For a moment, I thought maybe you were Black Pistols or Red Shadow infiltrating my house.”

Johan remained calm and replied without a hint of emotion, “A childish delusion.”

“Exactly. That kind of stuff only happens in movies. Still, sometimes reality is worse than fiction, so I couldn’t help but wonder.”

She was annoying in every way.

Acting clueless while clearly knowing something scratched at his nerves.

The moment he got the code, he’d shoot this woman first.

Giselle set her cup down. “It’s late. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you go out tonight, so go to bed.”

Instead of answering, Johan gave a slight nod, brushed past her, then turned around to offer an entire box of tissues.

“Your lips. Wipe them. It’s filthy.”

Giselle accepted the tissues with reluctance, and Johan went up the stairs without another glance.