The Villain's Sister - Chapter 83

There was a time I shoved Raphael into prison and ran away to the countryside, and another time I left home and stayed at Tristan’s apartment.

But never did I imagine I’d end up living together in Johan’s one-room house.

None other than Johan. Red Shadow.

“I can do it…”

Watching Johan’s back as he washed the dishes felt truly, truly strange.

Red Shadow and a dish scrubber were like the sun and moon, things that could never exist together.

The muscles of his back, faintly revealed beneath his shirt as he moved his arms, were striking.

“You’re the one who cooked. So it’s only right that I do this.”

“Even if I’m just borrowing this house?”

“I’m the one who asked you to stay here. As a guest, you should be comfortable.”

After wiping the sink spotless, Johan hung the dishcloth neatly, like a man with a soldier’s background.

Turning, he checked on me sitting in the chair.

“Do you need anything?”

“A TV. I want to watch the news.”

“I give you a newspaper every morning. And there’s the radio.”

“What house these days doesn’t have a TV? Even Tristan had an old one… what do you even do alone at home?”

At Tristan’s name, Johan faintly frowned.

I hadn’t meant to ask him to buy a TV. It was just a complaint after three days in this house.

But this was different.

I shoved a list of needed items at Johan.

“What is this?”

“Things you need to buy.”

“I can see that. I mean, in this situation…”

Glancing between the note and me, Johan sighed and shoved it into his pocket.

“You have to buy exactly what I wrote.”

“I’ll also do some grocery shopping, so I might be late.”

“Can you carry it all? With everything I asked for, it’s a lot.”

Johan gave a short laugh, like he’d heard something ridiculous.

“I’ll go.”

“Come back safe! Buy something tasty too, and don’t forget what I asked for!”

Walking him all the way to the door felt even stranger.

I always saw Raphael and Tristan off too, but Johan was… something else.

‘He lives in a completely different world.’

If Tristan lived in the next village over in the same rainforest, Johan lived in the polar region beyond it.

To share a roof, accept his help, and greet him so warmly felt awkward with someone who should never have crossed paths with me.

“I already paid my life debt…”

I flopped onto the sofa and turned on the radio.

Tuning the frequency brought up an advertisement jingle.

The media company that ran my bounty ad had been bombarded with angry calls and officially apologized, canceling the ad.

But some people still said this:

— Isn’t running ads to catch a woman who lived off dirty money the true role of the press?

Sinking deeper, it felt like drowning.

I knew well enough that my years of living comfortably thanks to Raphael were shameful, but hearing it from others was different.

— The clash between Mist Island’s city council and the central government is intensifying. Mayor Maggie Giomatti stressed that the Principality of Valkenstein grants Mist Island diplomatic and military rights…

The Valkenstein Independence Treaty was made by the current Duke of Valkenstein’s great-grandfather with the central government.

Mist Island had originally been the duchy’s domain.

Even after royalty disappeared, ownership still belonged to the House of Valkenstein.

But when waves of people poured in after the war, one family couldn’t handle it all.

So the Duke of Valkenstein returned the duchy to the nation and founded the city government.

He even gave up vast amounts of land to the citizens, taking no economic gain.

Because of that, at a time when the class system was still firmly in place, people granted the duke certain rights.

They handed over Mist Island’s diplomatic and military rights to the House of Valkenstein.

The duke’s family then entrusted these rights to the administration.

‘Strictly speaking, those rights still belong to the ducal family.’

And yet Johan, who had become a child soldier, was undeniably unusual.

— The fact that Raphael Kapuzen, indicted for first-degree murder, was a prisoner has sparked debate about how to manage escapees. Mayor Maggie Giomatti of Mist Island announced the construction of a prison to neutralize not only espers but also wizards and villains…

Chhhht—

Adjusting the dial again brought up a panel show full of chatter.

— The underworld has known about White Hands for a long time already!

— What’s the relationship between White Hands and Raphael? Lovers? Partners?

— The key issue is how White Hands entered the hospital! What were the police doing?

After I left, Raphael reportedly recovered enough by that evening to even fight.

“Thank goodness.”

If something had happened to Raphael, I would have done anything to kill those responsible.

Switching the channel, I let the sound of a drama rerun lull me into drowsiness.

***

When I woke to the sound of clattering, the clock pointed to 6 p.m.

Seeing that I was covered with a blanket and even had a cushion under my head, Johan must have taken care of me.

“When did you get back?”

“A little while ago.”

“You should have woken me.”

Johan was preparing dinner.

The table was already set with dishes and plates, and all that remained was to finish cooking.

He dumped vegetables carelessly into the pan and stir-fried the meat with practiced ease.

More skillfully than me, even.

“The things you asked for are in your room.”

“Thanks. But you didn’t buy a TV?”

“There’s nowhere to put one.”

“If you need money, just say so. Once I leave, move to a bigger house. I’ll give you the money.”

Johan snapped his head around and glared at me.

The look in his eyes reminded me of Raphael whenever I tried to use my ability, and I blurted out a hasty excuse.

“Did you really think I meant it? I was joking.”

Turning off the stove, Johan set the pot down on the table with a thud and warned, “Choose your jokes carefully. If they’re not funny, they’re not jokes. So don’t say things about leaving.”

Then he ladled food onto my plate and said, “If you want, we can move to a bigger house tomorrow. But Giselle, you must stay by my side.”

“Why? Because I’m in danger? Or is there another reason?”

“You’re not asking because you don’t know. What answer do you want to hear? I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

The light bulb was right overhead, casting Johan’s face in deep shadow.

It made his features look even more sculpted, and beneath the dark shade of his eyes, his icy blue gaze seemed especially fierce.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Whether it was responsibility as White Hands or genuine feelings for me. Maybe both.

“I’ve always thought this, but you’re really hard to understand.”

“Same here. You’re good at unsettling people.”

I sat down and ate the food he had stir-fried.

It was so good it made me feel defeated. Did he learn this in the army?

Even Raphael, who had been unmatched at everything before his enlistment, turned clumsy after the military.

That was when I realized the greatness of military service.

Maintaining perfect manners while eating, Johan suddenly asked, “How much do you know about me?”

“Well… I don’t even know how to begin to answer that.”

“Can’t you be a little more honest?”

Johan jabbed at the vegetables with his fork, looking a little irritated.

I found it amusing. It felt like he was the one closing the distance between us.

Opening up to me, thinking of me warmly, caring about me.

It was a better outcome than I’d expected when I first decided to use Red Shadow.

But by now, it all felt meaningless.

Raphael would be locked in an underground prison, living a safe but miserable life, and I would go to another city and start over with a new identity.

So maybe Johan would need me for a little longer, but the day I would need Red Shadow would never come.

“I don’t need Red Shadow. I don’t need the real identity you’ve hidden under the white mask either. But Johan… maybe I need you a little.”

“Just a little?”

“What answer do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

I threw his own words back at him.

Before answering, Johan slowly drank some water.

It gave me a perfect view of his elegant profile.

His masculine forehead, sharp nose bridge, soft lips, chiseled jawline.

Sometimes I imagine.

If we had met in another world, in another relationship, in that same meaningless ‘what if.’

Setting the glass down, Johan looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

Like warmth seeping from frostbitten hands, the slight curve of his eyes tricked me into thinking it was sweet.

“I’d like to hear you say you want me.”