The Villain's Sister - Chapter 25

“Sergeant Lindbergh. Do you know her?”

“Ah. She’s a friend. I’ll handle this. You go ahead.”

“Yes, sir. Take care.”

“Johan, was it? You again?”

At Tristan’s greeting, Johan gave a small nod.

Instead of being annoyed by the insincere greeting, Tristan turned his attention to me.

“Did you come to ask me to buy you lunch? What’s going on? You don’t look so good.”

“Ah. It’s just…”

As I clenched my hand, my nails scraped the leather of my bag. If I told Tristan, he would help me even though it wasn’t his department. He owed me, and by nature, he wouldn’t ignore someone he knew in trouble.

The problem was I had to use an alias. The administrative system wasn’t that precise, so it might go unnoticed, but this was about stalking. You never knew.

What if the lie was exposed?

What if they found out my real last name was Moltke and that my brother was Raphael Moltke?

Raphael was an escaped convict.

He was also the leader of Death Adder and had encountered Black Pistols multiple times.

Just revealing my surname could unravel all the lies.

“I was just passing by and wanted to see your face.”

“There’s still an hour until lunch. Wait at a nearby cafe. I’ll treat you.”

“No, seeing your face was enough. I have something to do.”

When I turned to leave, Tristan quickly grabbed my arm.

“Are you really okay? Your face is pale.”

“It’s because my makeup didn’t apply well. Are you worried about me? That makes me feel good.”

Tristan was a cop. He must have known I was lying.

But since I didn’t seem willing to talk, he backed off at a reasonable point.

“If anything happens, tell me. If it’s something I can handle, I’ll help.”

“I will.”

Leaving behind Tristan, who kept reminding me, I returned to the car.

Once I sat in the passenger seat, I saw bits of bag leather caught under my nails.

Johan silently stared at me. He didn’t sympathize or worry. He was a thorough observer, a bystander.

“What would you do if it were you?”

“I would handle it myself.”

“I don’t have that kind of strength.”

“A gun in your hand isn’t your only strength.”

“So you’re saying to use Raphael?”

“……”

“Just because I live off the money Raphael makes doesn’t mean I don’t know the value of life.”

Thunk.

When I leaned my head against the window, the sunlight hurt my eyes.

I lowered my eyelids and calmed my breath.

Johan started the engine and pulled out.

I missed Maria.

Maria would have screamed every curse imaginable and made a huge fuss.

Then she would have held me tightly and told me everything would be fine.

If something happened to her because of me, I’d spend the rest of my life cursing myself.

“Johan.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not happy.”

“……”

He wasn’t the right person for this kind of talk, but since he was someone who would use me and leave, he was a good choice to confide in.

“I’m not unhappy, but… I’m not happy either.”

“……”

The crispness of the morning sun.

The energy that lingered on the streets as the city woke.

I was detached from all of it.

I didn’t study, didn’t have a job, and I wasn’t living a stable, normal life.

I lived off dirty money, never knowing when I’d have to pay the price.

I trembled with anxiety and worried every day about the ending to come.

When I was little, I thought once Andrew was gone, all my worries would disappear. But that wasn’t true.

Once one problem was over, a new stage would begin, and new worries would arise. That was life.

“I’m not unhappy. Really, I’m not. I have a warm home and food to eat. But…”

I closed my trembling eyelids to block out the world tormenting me.

A normal life wasn’t mine to have anyway.

I just had to find my own happiness within this life.

“…Pay me back for the bed.”

Johan was the only one I could ask. Even if he was an anti-hero, he was still a hero. He wouldn’t dirty his hands like Raphael.

Yes. That must be true.

***

“At first, I thought it would stop after a few days. I was used to men doing vicious things under the guise of interest.”

Creak—creak—

The swing moved with the squeak of rusted screws.

Giselle tapped the sand with her shoe, watching her shadow slowly lengthen.

“It got worse day by day. He knew what clothes I wore when I hung out with my friends, whether the cookies I baked alone on a weekday afternoon were cinnamon or ginger.”

“When did it start?”

“A little over a year ago. Though he was probably watching before that… the letters started coming around two years ago.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?”

“…There was no one to tell.”

Footsteps crunched on the sand.

Clutching the rope tightly, Giselle slowly swung herself.

As her skirt gently fluttered, it seemed like her shadow was dancing.

She moved on purpose to shake off the helplessness, but the more she moved, the more she realized she couldn’t escape the swamp, and her gloom remained.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“About my dad.”

“There’s no need to confirm what doesn’t need confirming.”

In the letter written in blood, it said, “You should have been beaten to death by your father back then.”

Feeling the shame of having her past exposed, Giselle couldn’t sit still and pumped the swing harder.

Each time she soared high, she stretched out her legs and craned her neck to look at the sky.

The setting sun had dimmed the light, but in the half-approaching darkness, multiple colors mingled, making the evening sky dazzling.

Neither Johan nor Giselle said a word.

Giselle tried to compose herself in the silence, and Johan chose to keep quiet.

No matter how heartless a fallen hero he was, he wasn’t a cold-blooded man incapable of empathy.

“We moved to this neighborhood six years ago. When I turned fifteen. My biological father died seven years ago. Has he been watching me since then?”

“If so, he’s a pedophile.”

“Pfft.”

Giselle burst out laughing and stopped the swing.

She giggled uncontrollably, covering her mouth with one white hand, then wrapped both hands over her face.

Her shoulders shook. Laughter spilled out.

Johan thought her shoulders looked incredibly delicate.

Maybe it was because she was shouldering Raphael’s share of guilt too.

Johan knew her type well.

If her circumstances had been different, she would have lived a normal life, blending into society and working hard.

He tried not to kill people like her.

The ones he did kill were those who cooperated with crime, approved of it, or were rotten to the core.

‘An unlucky woman.’

An abusive father, a crime boss brother.

A life twisted by misfortune.

“What will you do if you find him?”

“I won’t kill him. I’ll just scare him a little, threaten him a bit… punch him in the gut, maybe slam a high heel into the back of his head. Just that much.”

So soft.

If it were him, he’d at least make sure one of the guy’s limbs would never work again.

Naturally, he’d crush that part so he couldn’t try anything again.

A short sigh escaped. Pathetic and foolish.

She was an infuriating woman in many ways.

***

After checking the collection of stalking letters Giselle had gathered, Johan came to one conclusion:

This wasn’t something that would end with a threat.

The man had written unspeakable things, and the animal corpse in the box was filled with malice.

‘A vicious bastard, but I can’t step in.’

He watched a waiter heading to work and fell into thought.

There was something Giselle had said that made him hesitate to get involved directly.

Not that he particularly took her words to heart, but if he got on her bad side and she insisted on no longer keeping him as a bodyguard, that would be a problem.

Leaving it to Giselle to handle was no good either. Her method was far too peaceful.

For problems like this, mild responses were ineffective.

Without strong laws, the only options were blood and fear.

‘Raphael is the answer.’

He just needed to create a situation where he could hand everything over to Raphael while claiming to respect Giselle’s wishes.

If he leaked the situation to Raphael, he might also gain his trust.

Johan, deciding he needed to visit Raphael in the daytime soon,mheaded toward the sound of gunfire.