The Villain's Sister - Chapter 29

“Mr. Raphael, is it really okay to leave Miss Deva like that?”

Liam couldn’t calm down after confirming that Giselle had packed up and left.

Even with Raphael there, he couldn’t hide his furrowed brow and worried eyes.

“We have to let her breathe. What can I do? She’s living like that with no dreams or life, all because of me.”

“But we can’t trust that Johan guy.”

Indeed, Johan wasn’t the kind of man to be under someone else, even when he bowed, he held his neck stiffly.

But Raphael remembered Johan’s eyes.

In those sharp blue eyes was a tenacious hunger.

Right. A man like that wouldn’t bow unless he wanted something.

“We can’t trust the man, but the cards he’s after from us might be trustworthy.”

“Ah, and about the Black Pistols. All the tails we set over the past month failed. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t expect much. If even the government can’t catch a guy who’s been around for years, he’s just too slippery. What we should focus on is Red Shadow.”

The central government was starting to feel threatened by Red Shadow’s presence.

Public opinion was fierce, asking what the government had been doing while a vigilante dealt with human traffickers.

And thanks to this, favorable views of Red Shadow were growing.

“It looks like he stole Two Star’s ledger, since the central government has classified him as a special surveillance target and a dangerous element.”

“So there are VIPs in that ledger.”

“That guy alone will draw more interference from the central government. Once they step in, we’ll have to lie low, so before that, we need to clean up this town.”

“Then are you giving up on catching Black Pistols?”

“A city needs at least one guy like that to make the nights entertaining.”

Raphael responded, gazing at the city drenched in red.

From the end of the sky, his time was drawing near.

***

“You could’ve called. You said we’d meet Friday, then suddenly said you’d be waiting at a cafe—I was surprised.”

I had asked Tristan’s colleague to tell him I’d be waiting at the cafe near the police station, and he didn’t show up until almost quitting time.

“Were you that busy?”

“Ours is probably the busiest department on Mist Island. But hey, what’s with the sunglasses? The sun’s about to set.”

“Don’t I look cool with them on?”

“What the—”

Tristan glanced me over and leaned deep into his chair.

He tilted his head and asked, “Your face looks a little swollen. You weren’t hit, right?”

“Not hit. I cried.”

“Something happen?”

“I had a fight with my brother.”

“Wow. Must’ve been a big one. Sibling fights happen anywhere, anytime.”

“Do you have a brother or sister?”

“I have a younger sibling. Didn’t listen at all, so I beat him and sent him to boarding school.”

“What a terrible brother.”

Hearing about a family relationship that never appeared in the original story felt a little strange.

“No bodyguard today?”

“Of course I ditched him. Is your shoulder okay?”

“Ah, right. That medicine and bandage you gave me were great. Thanks. Really helped. How’s your wrist? You’ve got to be careful. How’d you even fall?”

Tristan thanked me plainly.

He was always a bit prickly, so I didn’t expect him to say thanks, but he seemed surprisingly comfortable expressing himself.

“It’s all healed now. I’m glad it helped. Are you hungry? Let’s eat dinner together.”

“Yeah, sure. But you know…”

Tristan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

His face suddenly got much closer, and I held my breath for a moment.

Those black-and-white movie-like eyes looked clearer than usual.

He gestured toward the floor with his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“A bag.”

“Yeah, a bag. A travel suitcase.”

“……”

“……”

“…It just turned out this way. Let me crash at your place.”

“…Wow—this is nuts. Seriously, what am I going to do with you? You’re unbelievable.”

“Just for a week.”

Smiling softly, I curved my lips, and Tristan covered his eyes with the hand that had been resting on his forehead.

While waiting for Raphael to call, I firmly endured his nagging.

“Even if you fought with your brother—no, seriously, you’re a grown adult. Leaving home over a fight? Don’t you have friends?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t lie. I can see right through you!”

“My brother knows where my friends live.”

“What a sweet and kind brother you’ve got. And you left home just because he made you mad?”

“Come on, we’re basically dating. You could at least do this much.”

“Hey, that’s…”

Seeing him press his lips tightly in a bind, I sensed the tide had turned.

I quietly reached out and took Tristan’s hand, which had been resting on the table.

He flinched.

His hand was quite rough.

Much bigger than mine, covered in calluses and scars, it was anything but delicate.

I gently stroked the back of his hand with my thumb and pleaded, “Honey. Please.”

“Are you insane!”

Tristan looked serious and tried to shake me off, so I held on tighter.

Then his legs began to tremble. I grinned and called him again.

“…Darling.”

“…Stop. I’m so grossed out I feel like throwing up.”

“My sweet heart.”

“Ugh… Why are you doing this to me. Ha…”

Tristan slumped and planted his forehead on the table, looking like he was about to die.

I had won.

***

“Just wait a second. It’s a mess inside, so wait out here a bit.”

Tristan set me in front of the door and quickly went inside.

He was probably hiding the leather jacket and guns he used when working as Black Pistols.

‘Still, if he lives in an apartment, where does he keep the bike?’

Tristan’s place was a typical five-story apartment building.

It seemed he lived alone, away from his family, since Linda was sick.

Soon after, Tristan opened the door for me from inside.

His hair was all tousled, suggesting he had cleaned in a hurry.

“It’s a bit messy, but hope you understand.”

“Then excuse me.”

Once inside, I could see the small space clearly.

It was a studio room, with a bed and sofa divided by a single bookshelf.

The sink was stacked with empty cans, and one corner of the floor had a pile of clothes shoved aside.

“You can sleep on the sofa. For food, just take whatever’s inside. But the fridge is empty, so you’ll probably need to eat out.”

“I sleep on the sofa?”

“You’re a guest, don’t get greedy about the bed.”

“It’s not like I want to sleep there. I was just saying.”

I opened the fridge to check.

When I shook it, I found heavy-feeling milk, dried-up bananas, and rotten meat.

He eats a lot, but lives like this?

“This is serious…”

“Hm?”

“Isn’t there a market nearby?”

Living with Raphael, who could eat three pizzas in one sitting, made a fridge like this not just shocking but horrific.

I urgently stopped Tristan, who was folding laundry, and pushed him ahead of me.

At this rate, I wouldn’t even be able to eat breakfast tomorrow.

“Let’s hit the market before it closes!”

“Uh, uh? Uh… sure. Let’s go.”

Tristan, looking baffled, led the way.

There was a shopping area not far from the apartment.

I handed him the cart and nearly swept the store clean.

Fresh vegetables, meat, fish, fruits, and so on.

“Any food allergies?”

“None.”

“Do you eat breakfast?”

“If I wake up, I eat. If I don’t, I don’t. That’s breakfast.”

“So you skip it. What about dinner? Do you usually eat out?”

“I just grab whatever. You sound like a wife… Hey, hey! That’s too much! Just buy what you can eat! Three kilos of beef is overkill!”

“I can eat it all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how much you eat.”

When Raphael raided the fridge, it would be emptied like a swarm of locusts had passed, and we had to keep a separate pantry.

I remembered Tristan, built like Raphael, eating just as much.

“If it’s about money, don’t worry. I’ll pay.”

“Who said it’s about money? I only eat dinner at home. You’ll have to eat the rest, and how are you supposed to eat all this on your own?”

“Why do you assume I can’t?”

Since I’m here, going out at night would be difficult. That means early to bed and early to rise with a big meal—it’s doable, right?

“Why are you so obsessed with food? Are you my mom or something?”

Unable to hold back, Tristan said. I casually ignored him.

“Maybe it’s because I’m unemployed. When you laze around all day, you get attached to routines. Eat well, sleep well, and play well.”

“…Fine. You win. So jealous.”

“Right? I’m good at fighting. If someone bothers you, bring them to me. I’ll take care of them.”

As I teased him while stuffing ingredients into the cart, someone called out to Tristan.

“Tristan?”

“Oh. Crap. That voice…”

Tristan cursed under his breath.

What’s wrong? I asked. He replied, That bastard—my friend who slept with my ex.

Shit. Just trust me. As I finished, Tristan turned around and greeted him.

“Long time no see.”

As he turned, the man looked at us and gave a small exclamation.

“Whoa.”

Glancing over me, he asked, “Your girlfriend?”

Smiling brightly, I linked arms with Tristan.

“Yes. I’m his girlfriend.”