The Villain's Sister - Chapter 44

A surge of discomfort rose in my gut.

It was less shame and more irritation and anger—in short, a desire to punch someone square in the stomach.

“As a reporter for the culture desk, I have many ties in broadcasting. If you’re interested, contact our company. Just mention my name.”

“That might be important to someone like you.”

Daniel’s eyelids twitched.

I smiled brightly at Tristan, who was returning this way, and replied, “These earrings I’m wearing? They’re more expensive than your annual salary.”

A lie.

They weren’t real diamonds, just intricately crafted fakes.

Raphael had confiscated them when he cracked down on counterfeit jewelry sellers, and they looked convincing enough for Maria and me to split the pair.

‘Well, it is a knockoff of a luxury brand.’

I continued with a sweet smile, “My family has plenty of money, so leeching off my man’s good looks is my favorite hobby. In that sense, you’re disqualified.”

“Disqualified from what?”

Tristan, who had just arrived, heard the last part and asked.

I naturally linked arms with him and replied, “We were talking about cars. Would you believe it, Emma bought a used car and got scammed. Turns out it was a junker with a flat tire. Ah, Tristan, we should head to the hall soon and take our seats.”

No sane person would keep such a lemon, but given she had the audacity to cheat with her boyfriend’s friend and still go through with the wedding, it tracked.

Same went for the guy.

Their future was set, even without me lifting a finger for revenge. I just felt like I wasted energy.

***

“You’re still alive?”

“What are you saying? Why would I be dead?”

“There were rumors you got shot by a robber while on duty. You dropped out of college and became a cop, and then we hardly heard from you.”

“I was just busy. Really busy.”

“Try staying in touch.”

“I’ll try.”

Tristan’s friends all said the same things.

Why haven’t you been in touch? How have you been?

The questions kept repeating throughout the after-party, and Tristan looked increasingly exhausted.

Then, seeing a guy reeking of alcohol approach, he let out a long sigh.

“Shall we go home?”

“Just say hi first.”

Before the man could even speak, Tristan rattled off, “I wasn’t dead or injured. I’ve just been busy. This is my girlfriend, Giselle. I’m not forcing her to date me. Long time no see, Dylan.”

“Pfft. You must’ve had a rough time.”

Dylan, his face red from all the booze, laughed and slapped Tristan on the shoulder.

“Hey. You look even more built.”

“And you’re even more booze-colored than last time.”

“Hi, Giselle. So, when’s the wedding?”

Tristan pushed me behind him, silently telling me not to answer.

“Already drunk?”

“I’ve only had one bottle. No way. The guys were freaking out, saying you showed up with a total knockout. Makes sense you’ve been too busy dating.”

“Shut up. I heard you got your law license. Where are you working? A firm? Or a company?”

“You’re only asking now? I passed ages ago. I’m at a law firm. I wish you’d gone to law school too. You were the one who prepped the hardest among us.”

This was the first time I’d heard that Tristan had prepped for law school.

In the original work, the heroes’ personal stories were never shown.

They existed as heroes from the start, without origin stories.

So learning about Tristan’s private past stirred strange emotions in me.

“That was a long time ago.”

“It’s not too late. Re-enroll and give it another shot. How long are you going to keep doing that kind of work?”

Tristan’s eyebrow twitched.

His expression turned so serious, it was intimidating even for me.

Dylan stammered out an excuse, “I mean, it was Cerberth, not just any college. When you dropped out of such a prestigious school, we were all really worried about you.”

“……”

“We thought maybe your family got into debt or something… I’m just saying this because I know how much potential you have—”

“I get what you’re thinking. But I’m satisfied with my life now.”

Dylan, seemingly unconvinced, asked again in that lazy drunk tone unique to the inebriated.

“You seriously mean that? That you dropped out of Cerberth to become a police and gave up on law school?”

Tristan’s eyes were razor sharp.

It was a very short silence, but in less than a second, I could see his jaw tense and his gaze darken.

“You’re drunk. I’ll look into a good rehab center for you. Contact me if you need it.”

He turned and swiftly left the wedding hall.

From the arm linked with his, I could feel the heat of his heavy breathing.

I didn’t know what to say, and while I hesitated, we arrived at the car.

Click.

The moment he sat in the driver’s seat and shut the door, Tristan dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel.

He sat there for a while, breathing hard to calm down, then suggested, “Let’s have a drink before going home.”

***

Clack.

Tristan slammed the glass down after guzzling draft beer nonstop.

Drinking was fine, but he drank too quickly.

He wasn’t even eating any side dishes.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone today. I should’ve just visited my mom at the hospital.”

“If you hadn’t gone, those bastards would’ve said you were too ashamed of your loser life to show up.”

Someone who had gone to a top university and even prepped for law school, dropping everything to become a cop…

Being a cop isn’t a loser or a bad job, but it’s not attractive enough for someone on an elite path to give everything up for.

It seemed like there was a story behind it, but I couldn’t pry, so I just patted his back.

“Haa.”

Tristan let out the kind of sigh only drunk people made.

When the bartender tried to refill his glass, I shook my head slightly to stop him.

Tristan’s face was already flushed; he was clearly very drunk.

“That was the best I could do.”

Tristan cried out, face buried in the table.

“Damn it! That bastard Myers, that fucking idiot.”

Myers?

While I was wondering who this Myers person was, Tristan downed the rest of my beer too.

I thought he was upset over his ex-girlfriend and ex-friend, but something else entirely was bothering him.

“The bastard kept causing trouble no matter how much I talked to him, so I had to keep him in check. I wanted to graduate, but…”

“Was it… your brother?”

“Yeah. A total fucking psycho who’s no help in life. Fuck. When I think about how he ruined my life…”

He covered his face with both hands.

From beneath them came a drawn-out groan or perhaps a scream—it was hard to tell.

Cerberth was a top-tier school among even the elites.

Even people from high society scrambled to get in to secure future connections with guaranteed success, so for someone like Tristan, from a middle-class background, to get in, he must’ve studied insanely hard and achieved excellent grades.

To think he dropped out of a school that guaranteed an elite path, all because of his brother?

Even if he was satisfied with police work, it would still feel like a waste.

‘All his friends got jobs at prestigious places, so of course he’d feel regret.’

What kind of story led someone who got into Cerberth to become a cop? And why did he become a hero?

Just how much trouble did his brother cause at that boarding school…

“Just wait till he graduates. I’ll rip his damn head off like pulling a cabbage—”

Thud.

Tristan’s forehead dropped onto the table mid-curse.

His eyes were tightly shut. I felt a pang in my chest.

It was already sad enough that a hero had such a story, but it hurt even more that he was still suffering from it.

More than anything, I thought,

Tristan and Raphael seemed similar.

‘Was it painful for Raphael to become a villain too?’

Of course, one was a villain and the other a hero, but they both made life-altering decisions because of their siblings.

Even if he never said it, maybe Raphael also drank whiskey alone, mourning his ruined life.

‘I hope we can find a place to move into soon.’

For the first time since getting close to Tristan, I felt uncomfortable around him.