The Villain's Sister - Chapter 55

After reading the contents, Raphael let out a rough breath.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“You killed the waiter even though you knew he wasn’t the stalker?”

“I wasn’t the one who killed him. He was murdered during the investigation.”

Giselle Moltke had been harassed by a stalker in the original story too.

She kept it secret then as well, but unlike now, there was no Johan to snitch to Raphael.

‘Did the stalker ever get revealed in the ending?’

Strange. I can’t quite remember.

Some memories feel like they’ve been crudely stitched together, maybe falling into a coma really messed me up.

If only the original could help when I can’t even guess who the stalker is.

“Johan. Take Deva inside.”

“Raphael. I’m asking you one last time. Let’s just leave. Please, let’s run far away.”

We could board a plane, a boat—go abroad somewhere far away, and then maybe I could escape the original, and death.

“Let’s start over. I don’t care if we farm or open a little shop. Let’s leave everything behind and begin again. Please… I’m begging you.”

Big Bear was struggling like a madwoman to avoid collapse, and Raphael was growing more ambitious, aiming to bring down Big Bear and expand Death Adder.

The more Raphael became this city’s darkness, the more terrified I felt.

I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to die.

It was the most desperate I’d ever been in my life, but Raphael only looked conflicted.

“I started this, so I’ll take responsibility. If I don’t, the blowback might hit you.”

“That’s exactly why I’m saying we should run away. Just drop it all. I even saved up some money, just in case.”

“Deva. I know what kind of life you dream of. You always had dreams, and you’re not the type to accept a dangerous path like this. Just say the word. I can create a new identity and settle you abroad without anyone ever knowing.”

“Go where, without you?”

“There, even if you meet a cop, it won’t be a problem.”

Wait… What did Raphael just say?

“…What?”

Raphael closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his face with one hand.

“I know you’ve been seeing that guy, Tristan Lindbergh.”

“How did you…”

“You kept going to Langfester Hospital, so I looked into it and he popped up.”

“You didn’t meet Tristan, did you?”

“Deva. You can’t be with a cop.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Tristan had figured it all out.

There’s no way Black Pistols wouldn’t recognize Raphael.

“Did you fight? Did you draw your guns?”

“I swear, nothing like that happened. We just talked.”

“Talked? What would you two even talk about?”

I had no idea how Tristan understood the situation.

He must’ve recognized Raphael.

And realized I approached him with ulterior motives.

What now?

He’s probably really angry.

He must feel betrayed and hurt by me.

No—forget all that. What about Raphael?

What’s going to happen to Raphael?

“Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I protected you. Knowing you’re my sister, he might’ve tried to use you. If you got involved, you’d be the only one who got hurt.”

“You—”

“Doesn’t matter who liked who first or whether there were intentions behind the meeting. What matters is whether that guy would throw everything away for you. But he…”

Raphael grabbed my shoulders.

In those eyes, the same color as mine, there was affection and worry.

“He didn’t look like someone who’d sacrifice anything for you.”

Raphael’s voice, hoarse with emotion, was miserable.

Swallowing the scent of tears rising beneath my nose, I responded, “There’s no such thing as someone who’d sacrifice for me.”

“Deva. Don’t say that.”

“You’re the only one who’d throw your life away for me, and you don’t even realize it!”

Because Raphael threw away his life for me, I tried to approach Tristan for his sake.

But instead of using him properly, I ended up with nothing but emotional wreckage.

I don’t even know anymore—

Is this feeling because of Raphael, or because of Tristan?

“You don’t need to love a man like that. You could meet someone much better.”

“Raphael. There might be men who’d love a poor woman, but no one would love the sister of a crime syndicate boss. Love worth dying for only exists in movies.”

“Don’t say that. You deserve to be loved.”

What mattered in love wasn’t whether you were deserving, but reality.

Raphael knew that too, and after speaking, he bit down on his lower lip.

I suddenly felt ashamed of myself and lowered my head, staring at the marble floor’s pattern.

“…If you’re going to the funeral, make sure Johan goes with you. Johan. Stay by Deva’s side no matter what.”

“Don’t tell me… Linda…”

Raphael turned and left the house again.

Liam twitched his lips as if to comfort me, then ran out after Raphael.

I sank to the floor and buried my face in my palms.

Everything was a mess. Everything, truly.

***

The sound of rain pelting the car sounded like voices blaming me.

On the way to the cemetery, I trembled, not knowing what kind of face to make or what words to say when I saw Tristan.

For someone who had approached him so confidently, I looked pathetically miserable.

“Johan. What would you do in my place?”

“Hard to say.”

We weren’t real lovers, but we weren’t nothing either.

We couldn’t clearly define ourselves as friends or anything else, but the feelings we built while talking and laughing together had quietly piled up.

“I don’t understand your anxiety.”

“What?”

“He might know your brother is involved in something illegal, but he doesn’t know that Raphael is Raphael Kapuzen, does he?”

“Ah.”

Johan didn’t know that Tristan was Black Pistols or that I had approached him knowing his identity.

I couldn’t just spill Tristan’s secrets under the guise of venting.

I kept my mouth shut and gnawed at my thumbnail.

‘Tristan might pretend not to recognize Raphael.’

He might keep seeing me without revealing that he knew who Raphael was.

But that would mean he was using me to dig up information about Raphael.

If Tristan did that, what should I do?

Would it be right to just let him use me?

Even before that, what would it mean for us to live in a relationship where we deceive and let ourselves be deceived?

‘No. Tristan’s not that kind of person. Why else would he be a hero?’

Time passed cruelly, and before I knew it, we arrived at the cemetery.

The rain was coming down so hard, I couldn’t see ahead.

In the distance, I saw Tristan and the priest.

“You’ll get soaked.”

Johan pulled me close under his umbrella.

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“Like you’re about to break. Do you love that man so much?”

I slowly looked up at him.

Under the black umbrella, I saw Johan’s shaded face.

He looked as composed as ever, but his eyes had sunk with a strange heaviness.

There was a faint trace of concern in his voice, though his tone remained as usual.

“Saying I loved Tristan… that was a lie.”

“What?”

“I approached him. Because he’s with the Organized Crime Division. I thought if I said I loved a cop, Raphael would change.”

“……”

“But the one who changed was me.”

The umbrella trembled slightly.

Johan’s hand tightened around the handle.

He didn’t seem to notice his own reaction.

He sighed and took a deep breath.

The funeral ended.

Guests left, and even the priest departed, but Tristan remained standing alone before the gravestone.

I remembered what it was like to lose my mother. The air, the emotions of that day—they were still vivid.

“Wait here.”

I took the umbrella from Johan and walked over to Tristan.