The Villain's Sister - Chapter 65

― It’s this goddamn world that made Raphael a villain! Let me go!

Giselle in the movie screamed in anger.

And then he, Red Shadow, stabbed Raphael in the side.

Someone had acted as her, taken his life, and turned it into a movie.

All of it felt unnatural.

He wasn’t sure whether to call it uncomfortable or awkward.

He kept folding and unfolding the comic book, holding back a sigh.

He just wanted to meet Giselle quickly. To return to reality and escape this strange situation.

As Johan fidgeted, the movie ended and the lights came on.

Thunderous applause erupted and the actors appeared up front with excited faces.

“Oh my gosh! It’s, it’s Deva!”

Willy, the boy fan sitting next to him, clapped so hard it looked like his hands would break.

Johan looked at Giselle and covered his face in shock.

She was wearing a dress with an extremely low back. Her sides were exposed too, so there was nowhere to rest his eyes.

She dressed normally on Mist Island… Why the hell does this dream look like this?

He couldn’t understand Giselle.

Then again, had he ever understood her? She was the one who claimed to like that terrible song.

The Q&A session with the director, actors, and audience began. After several questions, Willy got a turn.

“Giselle was shot and killed at the funeral. What do you think about her tragic ending?”

Giselle searched for the fan.

Thanks to that, for a brief moment, her eyes met Johan’s. Slowly blinking, her eyes showed no emotion.

‘She doesn’t recognize me.’

Even after seeing him, Giselle turned indifferently to the fan.

“It was a realistic ending. Even if she opposed Raphael’s crimes, she still lived off dirty money. Maybe it was divine arrangement to show that the last bit of justice still existed in Mist Island.”

Another audience member asked a question.

“Then shouldn’t Red Shadow also meet a terrible end? No matter how much he protects justice, Red Shadow is still a killer.”

“That’s right, Red Shadow is a contradictory existence. He punishes evil by becoming evil himself. So I suspect that person, I mean, Red Shadow, must be someone who’s tasted immense despair from the darkness of the city.”

A fist clenched on his knee.

“You think he is a human? He’s a beast.”

He had called him a beast to his face, but maybe that wasn’t truly how he felt.

Giselle slowly shared her thoughts. “The two heroes have contrasting views of justice. Black Pistols is idealistic, while Red Shadow is realistic. So realistic that he almost feels abnormal. Don’t you think someone like that would be aware of their contradictions? It’s because they can’t ignore them that they act as a hero. So I think…”

Johan held his breath. His jaw tensed. Every cell in his body focused on Giselle’s next words.

“…Red Shadow might be the one most wounded by the city’s darkness.”

Thump, thump! His heartbeat pounded through him.

Johan bit the inside of his cheek hard.

Embarrassment made him want to sigh, but the deep shiver he felt overwhelmed it.

Unable to bear the surging emotions, Johan slowly closed his eyes.

“If you want to see more of Red Shadow, please watch the movie a lot so the studio will make a prequel.”

Giselle’s answer, ending with a joke, drew laughter from the audience.

More questions followed, but none were as striking as before.

When the screening ended, the actors exited.

Johan quickly followed to the parking lot and called out to her.

“Giselle.”

Giselle didn’t turn around, as if that wasn’t her name.

Johan called her again.

“Giselle.”

Still, she didn’t respond.

Johan raised his voice.

“Giselle Rodriguez!”

Only then did she stop.

Johan hurried toward her.

Up close, the backless dress with exposed sides looked even more shocking.

This damn futuristic city had no sense of decency in clothing.

“Are you the one who called me?”

Avoiding looking at her too much, Johan replied, “That’s your name.”

“My name’s not Giselle. You must’ve been really moved by the movie.”

Giselle gestured toward the comic book he held, smiling awkwardly.

“No, you are Giselle. Your real name is Giselle Deva Moltke, and to those who don’t know, you go by Giselle Rodriguez.”

“That’s also in the comic.”

“The bed. The one you said you bought for Maria.”

Giselle frowned slightly and stepped back.

“Vanilla ice cream is Raphael’s. You like chocolate.”

“How do you know that…?”

“I don’t know why Black Pistols became a movie, but you have to go back.”

“…Ah.”

Giselle gasped faintly and smiled vaguely.

Her face was a mixture of longing, regret, sadness, and joy.

“You haven’t been here long, have you?”

“Excuse me?”

“We came here because we died. There’s no way to go back.”

This time, Johan frowned.

As his expression faltered, Giselle raised her hand to calm him. “You didn’t recognize me because my obituary ran on Mist Island, right? In the Daily Issue or Mist Island Times or something.”

“It seems we need to talk.”

“Looks that way. How do you know me? Before that, how long have you been here?”

“Since this morning.”

“Then you must have nowhere to stay. Do you have money…”

Giselle looked at the comic in his hand. Johan quickly made an excuse.

“I borrowed it.”

“It’s fine. I would’ve stolen it too.”

“I didn’t steal it. What kind of person do you think I am—”

“Just get in. You must be really confused, so I’ll help you out for now.”

Beep!

She pressed something and the headlights of the car lit up.

With a dizzy head, Johan got into the passenger seat.

Giselle started the car smoothly and pulled out onto the road.

Accelerating, steering, watching other cars.

The Giselle in the dream handled things the real Giselle never did.

Johan thought she felt unfamiliar.

“What’s your name?”

“Johan.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Family?”

“They passed away a long time ago. I’m alone.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there. Why not change your name while you’re at it? There’s no need to keep a name given by that trash heap of a city.”

The response was so cynical it almost sounded cheerful.

“Take a new name, get a new job. Become a new person and live a new life.”

“Did you do that?”

“I abandoned my name. I had no attachment to the name Giselle.”

Just then, music played from Giselle’s bag.

― That man drives me crazy. So either take me to bed or bury me under the dirt. One of the two’s gotta happen.

It was the song Giselle often hummed.

Hearing it for real, it was even more provocative than he’d imagined, and it gave him a sudden headache.

“Can you take my phone out of my bag?”

“Phone?”

“Yeah. That rectangular device. It’s a portable telephone.”

“Ah.”

When he pulled out what she called a phone, Giselle asked, “Who’s calling?”

“Annie Wistock.”

“What? Annie Wistock?”

Giselle abruptly stopped the car on the main road and snatched the phone to answer it.

There was a subtle tension in her voice.

After some chit-chat about today’s premiere, the conversation moved to the project. Nervously, she tugged at her wavy hair.

“Really? I got the role? You’re not joking, right? If you’re joking, I’ll get mad.”

Her hands trembled and her face turned bright red with excitement.

Watching that spectrum of emotion, one might reasonably suspect that the fog of Mist Island had drained all the color from the woman named Giselle Moltke.

Moments later, she shrieked. “Annie! You know I love you, right? I really love you!”

As Giselle banged the steering wheel in excitement and burst into tears, a soft laugh came from the phone.

― I believe in you.

Even after the call ended, Giselle remained overwhelmed, slumped over the steering wheel, sobbing for a while.

Johan debated between patting her back and congratulating her, then finally spoke.

“…Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It was a role I’d been chasing for six months. Camera tests, costume tests, every test imaginable. I was on edge every day…”

She wiped the smudged makeup under her eyes, then burst into tears again.

Once she finally got her emotions under control, Giselle said she was hungry and took him to a nice restaurant.

Still smiling, she asked, “Okay. Let’s have a conversation. How did you end up here? Was it a terror attack?”

“No.”

“Then a car accident?”

“Not that either.”

“Hmm. That’s strange. Most people come here because something happens.”

“Most people?”

With a meaningful smirk, Giselle changed the subject.