The Villain's Sister - Chapter 70

“Th-th-that’s a lie!”

Startled, Giselle backed away little by little as if he were someone she absolutely shouldn’t be near.

She had been so excited to make threats, yet now she reacted like this just because he gave it back to her.

“I’m disappointed. I risked my life to be with you.”

“I-I’m really flustered right now!”

“And I’m heartbroken. Deeply wounded.”

As Johan rubbed his chest, pretending to be pained, Giselle looked halfway dazed and gazed up at the sky.

A crimson sunset was spreading at the far edge of the sky.

As the yellow and red light touched her face, it flushed with color.

“No way. W-Was that cop my husband? Things didn’t work out with him.”

Hearing that things hadn’t worked out with the cop, Johan decided to stop joking.

When he smiled mischievously, Giselle realized too late that she’d been caught in a mean prank.

Johan explained gently, “Raphael hired me to protect you. And because I didn’t do what you wanted, you threatened me like that. You didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a husband.”

“What did you say? I’m seriously going to kick you out!”

Her fist thumped against Johan’s arm. There was force behind it, but it didn’t hurt.

“Ahaha!”

Johan burst into a hearty laugh.

For a moment, it felt like he and Giselle had become just ordinary acquaintances.

He was no longer Red Shadow, and she wasn’t the villain’s sister. Just two people who knew each other’s faces and talked normally.

He felt giddy and more than that, filled with expectation. It was as if he were living a life where his heart fluttered with every moment.

“You’re unbelievable!”

As Giselle huffed in protest, Johan showed his palm as if in pain and playfully surrendered.

“More importantly, I want to hear your story. The you I knew never died. The last time I saw you, you were asleep as if dead, but not actually gone.”

“What are you talking about? If you watched the movie, you’d know everything. My story is just like in the film,” Giselle replied curtly, still glaring at him.

Dreams reflect the subconscious and act as mirrors to reality.

‘There must be something between her distorted memories and the fact that she knew who I was.’

It was clear Giselle had a secret, but Johan couldn’t quite define what it was.

A subtle sense of incongruity gnawed at him.

“In my version, Oscar didn’t exist.”

“I don’t understand. So…”

Unable to hide her confusion, she stabbed at her melted, jiggling ice cream with a spoon.

“What you just said… was it true?”

“I could swear on Styx’s brew.”

Her hand gripping the spoon trembled slightly.

Her face had gone pale. She bit her lip for a while, then suddenly stood and gathered her things.

“Let’s go. There’s somewhere we need to stop by.”

***

Her driving profile was filled with thought.

Johan sat in the passenger seat in silence, giving space to Giselle, who seemed downcast.

She took him to a secluded neighborhood far from the busy downtown area.

After weaving through alleyways like spiderwebs, they came upon an old sign.

<Petro Theater>

By then, night had fallen and darkness surrounded them.

Even so, only half the lights on the sign were lit.

“Ten years ago, this theater used to be quite popular. But once the multiplexes took over, it ended up like this.”

<Split Personality>

<Dream Addict>

<Forgotten Time>

Old movie posters lined the theater hallway.

Giselle woke the dozing staff member and bought tickets.

Since there were no other customers, the two of them had the theater to themselves.

“This place only plays classic films. No crowds, very quiet. That’s why I never felt lonely here.”

Giselle hugged a tub of cheese-flavored popcorn and sipped from her cola.

To her, this theater seemed as comfortable as the living room sofa she normally sprawled on.

“I watched so many movies here. I think I’ve seen all the classic masterpieces.”

Giselle offered him some popcorn. Johan declined at first, but when she insisted again, he took a bite out of courtesy.

He slightly grimaced at the intense flavor on his tongue.

“Watching those movies made me dream of becoming an actress. Some days I wanted to be Scarlett O’Hara, other days Elizabeth Bennet.”

Sinking deeply into her seat, Giselle looked at him and smiled mysteriously.

As the previews began, her face lit up in shifting colors.

Suddenly, he thought this might be the real, unfiltered Giselle.

The thick fog of Mist Island had lifted, revealing her true colors.

“Maria never believed in Petro Theater. She thought all the works I talked about were just books I’d read at the library. It’s a story that’s hard to believe.”

In that moment, Johan found the missing puzzle piece to his unease.

His eyelid twitched. The secret Giselle had been hiding was now revealed.

“But you’ll believe me. You have no choice.”

“This isn’t your first time in this world, is it?”

“That’s right. Back then, I was a ghost wandering this place.”

The moment she answered, he held his breath.

The production company’s logo played.

Giselle turned to the screen, fully focused. As if no further explanation was needed.

***

By the time they came out of the movie, the sun had already set.

On the way to the parking lot after grabbing a quick meal nearby, the yellow streetlights cast long shadows of the two.

The road, now shrouded in darkness, was completely empty all the way to the end of the block, unlike the busy daytime.

A few faint stars could be seen above the flickering traffic light.

Though her mind was a bit tangled, the subtly humid early summer air lifted Giselle’s spirits.

“Mmm-hmm-hmm. Hm.”

“How long are you planning to sing that damn song?”

“Isn’t it nice?”

“That’s not art. I can’t believe someone would proudly shout those lyrics. How about changing your taste a little?”

Giselle opened her mouth wide, looked him up and down, and shook her head.

To think that one of the few people from her hometown would turn out to be more than just a stick-in-the-mud, but a complete fossil. It was quite disappointing to her.

“Then what kind of music do you listen to?”

“When I have time, I go to the opera or classical performances.”

“I always wondered who listened to that kind of stuff. Turns out it was someone like you.”

“It’s a shame you don’t understand the value of the classics. The songs you listen to are like canned ham, you could say. True art sings of life, tragedy, and gods.”

“What are you even saying? Could you walk a little farther from me? I think I can smell great-great-grandfather coming from you.”

Johan let out a dry sigh.

It was Giselle who, if he stayed by her side, would sing non-artistic songs several times a day and bombard his ears.

And now she was the one asking him to walk away? That was exactly what he wanted to say.

“Your great-great-grandfather would’ve appreciated the value of classical music.”

“Sorry, but I don’t even know what my great-grandfather looked like, let alone my great-great-grandfather. Anyway, I don’t think we can be friends. Our tastes are just too different.”

“Friends?”

Johan stopped in his tracks. He stared down at Giselle, who had been walking beside him.

One side of his mouth curled up and his tilted head added arrogance to his elegant air.

He said with a cold smile, “Why would we be friends? I have no intention of that.”

“What?” Giselle looked up at him in confusion.

Then Johan gently called her name.

“Giselle.”

Though his tone was soft, something about his piercing gaze made Giselle feel like she might be devoured whole.

“There’s no such thing as being friends. I don’t believe in that kind of thing between a man and a woman.”

“Then… what?”

A subtle glint passed through Johan’s gaze toward Giselle. It was unmistakably the look of someone viewing the other as the opposite sex.

As Johan leaned in toward her, the distance between them closed. They were close enough that if either moved slightly, they could feel each other’s breath.

His piercing blue eyes held her gaze, and Giselle instinctively swallowed dryly. Her stomach tensed from the nervousness.

“I don’t have a hobby of eating ice cream I don’t even like for a woman I have no feelings for.”

“…Y-You’re joking, right?”

Her voice trembled, making her stutter.

Swallowing hard, Giselle couldn’t focus with her heart thudding wildly.

It felt strange. Truly strange.

It wasn’t the same kind of tension she felt with other men. Her stomach churned and her chest tingled.

It was strange to feel this way about someone she’d only just met a few days ago, but oddly, it didn’t feel strange at all.

It felt like Johan was someone she had known for a long time.

Was the answer hidden in her lost memories? Giselle quietly bit her lip.

Her pounding chest felt like it might burst past her throat.

“Do I look like the kind of man who jokes around?”

Johan spoke like a nobleman full of pride.

Because of his blunt reply, Giselle’s face flushed under the glow of the yellow streetlight.

There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment or hesitation in Johan, backlit by the light.

He seemed like someone who didn’t care about the other person’s reaction at all.

In other words, someone who always stood on higher ground and maintained composure no matter where he was.

Giselle pursed her lips and quickly turned her head away.

When Johan chuckled quietly, her face turned red like it was on fire.

This flustered Giselle didn’t seem like someone who had identified Black Pistols and Red Shadow’s true identities, approached Tristan Lindbergh, and kept Red Shadow close by to monitor him.

At that moment, Johan realized something strange.

The Giselle in reality knew the heroes’ identities because she had visited this world before. That’s why she recognized him immediately.

The Giselle here must have also visited this world long ago, so she should have known the heroes’ identities.

‘It’s been over ten years since the comic was published.’

There’s no way she hadn’t seen the comic when she visited this world.

And yet, Giselle hadn’t recognized Red Shadow standing right in front of her.

She said the comic that became the basis of the film described her past, but the Giselle in the comic Johan had read had no memory of coming to this world.

On top of that, she didn’t know about these contradictory facts.

And Oscar Jackniper, who doesn’t exist in reality. He was the author of the comic Mist Island.