The Villain's Sister - Chapter 67

Johan replayed the scene where Giselle confessed she was White Hands over and over.

Each time, a sensation—whether a chill or a shiver—ran down his spine.

His chest tightened.

He never imagined that the nameless girl who had once saved him would gain her ability through such a wretched path.

Just as he was overwhelmed with despair, Giselle came out with some clothes for him.

“Sorry. That call took a while. A suit must be uncomfortable, so change into these. They’re Raphael’s clothes, and the size is similar, so they should be fine. What else…?”

She tilted her head slightly, thinking if there was anything more she needed to prepare.

“The bathroom is over there. You can sleep on this sofa. Oh, and you can use this blanket.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

“No need to thank me so stiffly. Oh, and if you’re thirsty, feel free to check the fridge.”

“No need to worry.”

“Hmm. And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t get any weird ideas.”

“Whatever you may be worried about, I assure you it will never happen.”

“That’s good. Unless you want a bullet hole in your head.”

“A respectable stance.”

Confirming Giselle’s firm smile, Johan took the clothes she handed him and headed to the bathroom.

“Feels like I’m the villain.”

Compared to the Giselle who once looked like she’d collapse with a breeze, this version seemed far stronger and healthier—it suited her better.

***

“…What does Aunt Gloria think a ten-year-old could possibly know to leave them all that inheritance! No matter what, I have to get custody of Heinrich!”

Young Heinrich, peering through the crack in the door, saw his mother sobbing in the arms of her lover.

Then, their eyes met.

The moment she jumped up, Heinrich bolted down the hallway.

Out in the garden, he caught sight of his father’s back.

Beyond the tall fence, he could hear the conversation between his father and his lover.

“Can’t you just give me custody of Heinrich and get the divorce over with quickly?”

“That child is going to be the Duke of Valkenstein! Of course I have to raise him myself!”

“If this keeps up, my child will end up a bastard!”

“Primogeniture is the law. All rights and titles, including the dukedom, will go to Heinrich. So aside from becoming the Duchess after marriage, don’t expect anything more.”

“He’s your child! Our daughter has the right to inherit too!”

“She can inherit my personal assets, sure. But she’ll never be accepted into high society. And you’re not from a noble family anyway.”

Heinrich knew how this story ended.

Affairs, alcoholism… The custody battle dragged on for two years, airing all their dirty laundry, before the rights were awarded to his father.

Later, his mother boarded a flight to the southern Cypress Sea to marry her lover, but died in a crash on the very same day.

His father’s mistress, devastated that her child wouldn’t inherit anything, had an abortion and left.

After she left, his father, unable to endure the shock, shot himself.

‘What was I born for?’

A son to inherit the title and fortune?

A newly bred stallion with noble blood to reinforce their elite world in a classless society?

To his parents, Heinrich wasn’t a child to be loved.

He was something made for a purpose. That was Heinrich.

So he ran to the battlefield, to escape the titles, the fortune, and the name Valkenstein.

The front lines, where espers were deployed, were brutally savage and miserably dire.

In summer, corpses rotted and dehydration tormented them. In winter, comrades froze to death beside him.

“I want to make it back alive, Sergeant.”

“Me too.”

“What’s the first thing you’ll do if you return?”

What had he answered when his unit asked that last night?

Bang!

Bang!

Boom boom!

Boom!

Beeeeeeeep—

One explosion after another made his ears ring. He couldn’t stay focused.

He couldn’t understand why such a war was even being fought.

Was that damn island really worth shedding blood over, like Oliver said?

What would it mean if he died here, in this place where life and death collided?

Heinrich gasped for air. A bullet grazed his neck, and blood spurted.

In the distance, he saw his comrades dragging their bodies forward with their arms.

In that moment, Heinrich prepared for death.

He was a worthless existence. If he died for them, it wouldn’t be a regret.

Casting aside hesitation, he leapt into the explosions.

“Please save me, Sergeant. I don’t want to die!”

“Shut up, Robert. You’re not going to die.”

Because so many higher-ups had died, he kept getting promoted until he held an absurd rank at a young age.

That’s how deadly this war had been.

Heinrich lifted Robert and ran.

A nearby explosion flung their bodies to the ground.

“Aaaaagh! Aaaagh!” Robert screamed in panic.

“Huff… Robert! Get up! Snap out of it!”

Heinrich slapped Robert’s cheek and grabbed him by the collar to lift him.

He tossed the dazed Robert into a trench and ran back toward the place they had escaped.

Near where Robert had fallen, Samuel was collapsed.

“Aaaaagh! Khhh… It hurts! Aaaagh!”

Heinrich injected a narcotic into Samuel, whose legs were gone below the knees.

He had started carrying it after seeing too many die from shock.

Sssst!

He knew exactly what that sound meant.

Fine blades infused with magic, programmed to target humans.

In the military, they were called snakes with legs.

There was a magic device in the trenches to repel them.

“Huff! Huff! You bastard! I should have known when you were eyeing Maverick’s canned ham!”

Samuel was disgustingly heavy. He’d make him diet once the treatment was done.

His legs… who knew. Was that even important right now?

This fat guy had to get home alive.

Hadn’t he proudly mentioned that his nephew was born two days ago?

Sssst!

The sound grew louder. He could feel the snake catching up to him.

The trench wasn’t far. His clothes were soaked with the blood from Samuel.

“Hurry! You have to move quickly!”

Soldiers outside the trench fired long magic rounds to drive the snake back.

Just a few steps left.

“Kgh!”

A bullet deeply grazed Heinrich’s arm.

From the pain, he momentarily dropped Samuel.

Sssst!

The sound was far too close. Heinrich hoisted Samuel up and hurled him toward the trench.

And then—

“Did I ever regret volunteering for the war?”

“Damn it. When I heard he was a duke, I thought he’d be impressive, but he’s just a kid. What are we supposed to do with someone like him?”

He felt a bit of regret when Sergeant James Turner, who had patted his chest during enlistment, died of full-body burns after two days of agony.

But never once did he regret it afterward.

In this place where life and death crossed.

In a place filled all day with bombs, groans, and despair, he could exist to stand beside his comrades.

Not because of an island he had never seen, but because he could stay beside his comrades.

Thanks to that, he could support Corporal Daniel Welson, who had four children at a young age.

He fulfilled the final wish of Oliver Cook, who had said he missed his mother’s apple pie.

‘I want to be a police officer.’

Yes.

That’s how I answered yesterday.

A job where I could catch criminals and help those in trouble. It felt like I could be happy without having to find a purpose for my existence.

But.

Crunch.

A blade sliced through his eye.