The Villain's Sister - Chapter 53

“Huh?”

I pulled the spoon from my mouth, sensing the strange mood.

He kept staring at my lips like his gaze was stuck there and let out a low sigh.

“Huh?”

Johan reached toward me. I instinctively pulled my head back, but he was faster.

His long fingers brushed against my lips.

The callused fingertips that had saved me grazed my lips.

The lukewarm warmth and rough texture made me shiver.

I couldn’t look away from his eyes that met mine in the air.

Ah, I felt like a fish caught in a net.

It was the first time I had really noticed what shade of blue this man’s eyes were, or how they gleamed under the light.

“It’s better to eat cleanly.”

Why?

Because my lips were messy?

Or because your gaze keeps landing on me?

Is that why you…

My eye twitched slightly. My heart dropped even more sharply.

“Didn’t you tell me to wipe it myself before?”

I deliberately threw out a teasing remark.

I wanted to make Johan draw a line, to break this strange tension between us.

I didn’t need this kind of tension.

There would never be a kiss with this man.

Even more so, I should never give him my heart.

But Johan’s answer went against my expectations.

“That was because I had no interest in you back then.”

“What?”

“I didn’t before, but now I do. So I’m concerned.”

“What are you saying… don’t joke.”

“I care about you.”

I wanted him to say it was a joke, but unfortunately, Johan wasn’t the kind of person who would.

He didn’t smile.

There was a warmth in his icy blue eyes that hadn’t been there before—but it wasn’t love.

It was a simple, confident, sincere feeling. Just that much.

But because I knew how cold this man could be, I didn’t know how to react.

His version of “a little” was as different from someone else’s as summer is from winter.

So when he said he cared, it meant it was a burning sincerity.

***

After Giselle left, Tristan visited his mother and received the new home phone number Giselle had left behind.

“What did you and Giselle talk about?”

“It’s a secret between women. More importantly, stop by the house and bring me some childhood photos of you.”

“Photos?”

“Ones from when you and your brother were little.”

He didn’t quite understand why she wanted to see those photos, but he didn’t press.

When he visited the apartment and opened the frame to find the photos, he discovered a picture of himself and Myers tucked behind a family photo.

Unlike him, who was yawning and looking away, Myers faced the camera and smiled faintly.

Though they were twins, Myers and he had completely different faces and personalities.

“Why would Mom…”

Why did she want to see this photo? Why Myers?

He tucked the photo into his chest and opened the front door.

Clunk.

There was a thud like someone was standing outside and had bumped into the door.

The only visitor he could imagine coming here was Giselle, but this presence was far heavier than hers.

The person outside grabbed the door with a firm grip.

The hand was thick and large, full of calluses and scars.

Through the narrow gap in the open door, the person’s face came into view.

In that moment, Tristan instinctively reached for his waist.

Having just come from the hospital, he didn’t have his gun on him.

‘How did this guy…!’

Neatly swept-back golden hair, fierce eyes, tall frame and broad shoulders.

A build that showed off solid muscles even in a suit.

It was Raphael Kapuzen.

Did he figure out my identity?

Tristan quickly recalled where he had hidden weapons in the house.

‘What’s his goal?’

He wasn’t sure he could stall long enough to retrieve the gun hidden in the shoe cabinet.

Deceiving him would be even harder.

Raphael was a villain who ruled Mist Island without any esper powers.

The space was small, and chances were high he had a hidden weapon.

In that case, he needed to get out to the hallway—

“Are you Tristan Lindbergh?”

He hadn’t matched the face to the name.

‘So he didn’t come here knowing who I am.’

Tristan raised his brow. The situation felt strange, so he quickly scanned the man.

Instead of his usual flashy suit, Raphael wore a modest gray one.

His hair wasn’t styled like a typical underground boss either.

‘He doesn’t recognize me.’

Then he had to focus on why this man came here.

And he had to hide his voice.

If his identity were exposed, this wouldn’t just end in a fight.

“I asked if you’re Tristan Lindbergh.”

Tristan tensed his throat and replied in a hoarse voice, “Yes, I am. And who are you?”

Raphael stared at Tristan.

A strange glint appeared in his icy blue eyes.

“You don’t look as unimpressive as I imagined.”

Tristan’s cheek twitched.

‘Did he recognize me?’

If there was any sign of an attack, he’d have to shove him out the door first—

Tristan’s throat tightened from the tension.

If necessary, he’d have to eliminate him right here.

Raphael continued in his characteristic rough voice, “I’m Giselle’s older brother. Raphael.”

“…What?”

“I heard Giselle stayed at your house, Lindbergh, for a little over a week. She booked a hotel to throw me off.”

“You’re… Giselle’s brother?”

“Yeah. Didn’t she tell you she had a sibling?”

Why was that name coming out of his mouth?

Raphael, noticing Tristan’s dumbfounded expression, smirked and explained, “She might’ve used the last name Rodriguez. She sometimes lies that she has a sister instead of a brother.”

He didn’t recognize me.

“Why did you come here? No—before that, how did you even know my address?”

“There are ways. What matters is—”

Raphael’s eyes sharpened.

“How much do you love Giselle? How far are you willing to go for my sister?”

Tristan furrowed his brow.

What kind of nonsense is this?

***

The rain that had started in the evening grew heavier.

Having forgotten his umbrella, Tristan opened the hospital room door with a wet face.

“Mom. I’m here.”

Tristan looked at his mother lying as if asleep.

Seeing her so weak from painkillers tore at his heart.

The shadow of death on her eyes, her frail fingers… He knew farewell was coming, but he didn’t want to accept it.

“Tristan?”

Linda opened her eyes and gestured to him.

He sat next to her and handed over the photo.

Linda traced the image of young Tristan with her fingers.

“When did you grow up like this? You were so tiny when we first met.”

She smiled faintly while gazing at the worn photo.

“Why did you want this photo? I’m not even smiling properly in it.”

“It’s the only one of the two of you together.”

Tristan fell silent. His mother held the photo tightly to her chest.

“It always pained me not knowing you before age twelve.”

“Is that really so important?”

“Of course. I want to know my son at one year old, at five. It hurts that I wasn’t there beside you when you were little.”

“I’m fine.”

“But I’m not. Tristan, open that basket over there.”

“Basket?”

He checked the knitting basket on the nightstand.

Inside was a red scarf.

She had finished it despite being sick.

She should’ve rested during that time…

Tristan pressed down the surge of emotion.

He couldn’t tell whether what he felt was sorrow, or guilt for not being able to fully return the love he had received.

He just didn’t want his mother to leave.

That was all.

“…It’s beautiful…”

“That one’s not for you.”

“It’s for you, Mom? I thought you liked green more than red.”

“If it were for me, I would’ve gone to the department store and bought cashmere.”

Linda’s joke made Tristan let out a faint laugh.

“Just say the word. I’ll get you 100% cashmere.”

“That one’s for Myers.”

Tristan’s brow furrowed mid-laughter. Startled, he asked as if he’d misheard, “Why are you talking about Myers…”

“I hated him so much I made it. The thought of that wretched boy staying by your side pained me, so I’m asking this favor before I go.”

“What are you talking about? Have you met Myers? Did he come see you?”

“Of course not. You can just tell. I know you quit school because of Myers, and that you’re doing dangerous work now.”

“What are you saying? If you don’t like my police work—”

“You wear a helmet and do vigilante work.”

Frozen, Tristan stared at Linda with a shaken gaze.