No Love For The Villain - Chapter 1
The day my father died was a snowy Christmas.
The ten-year-old girl, waiting for her father, sat alone at the dining table where the food was getting cold.
[Breaking news. A federal prosecutor has been confirmed dead at the scene following a shooting on the elevated highway. Authorities are pursuing armed suspects, and the area has been cordoned off. It is presumed to be the work of the mafia that has taken control of the Newland area…]
As the breaking news ended, Christmas carols began to play. While the whole world sang peacefully of peace, Sierra lost her only family.
Sierra read her father’s last letter over and over again.
<To my beloved daughter, Sierra. Do not be sad even when the spring flowers fall. When the snow falls, it means spring will return soon. When spring returns, the flowers we planted will have endured the winter well and will bloom again.>
Spring will return soon. Just as her father said, spring returned and the flowers bloomed again, but her father did not return.
The flowerbed in full bloom was the ruins of a childhood she could never return to. Every time she passed by it, a barrage of gunfire erupted in her heart.
The inheritance was tied up with her guardian, Pastor Miles, until she came of age. There was no funeral. The reason was delivered by the pastor’s son, Daniel.
“According to the pastor, the hospital had fallen into the hands of bad people, so they couldn’t retrieve the body from the mortuary.”
After that, she heard nothing more about her father. Only through the pastor’s voice over the phone did she glimpse how wretched her father’s final moments had been.
“The body is in rags. Those devilish bastards crushed everything, his body and his face. We’ll have to leave him to a doctor. He’ll make him look… at least not too horrifying before the funeral.”
But the undertaker never had the chance to prepare her father’s body for the funeral. The bad people, those devilish bastards, never returned her father’s remains.
The next time Sierra heard news of her father was ten years later, in winter, during dinner.
Sierra sat in silence, watching the pastor’s family laugh and chat. Mrs. Miles, who was serving her son a generous portion, spoke to her.
“Sierra, what do you think of marrying Daniel?”
Mrs. Miles looked at her with a gentle smile.
“You’ve come of age now, so you should live on your own, but… we worry about you being alone. Isn’t life terribly lonely and difficult for a woman by herself? Now you can truly become part of the Miles family.”
Family.
The word shook the heart that had long yearned for it. Her eyes met Daniel’s across the table. He gave her a proper, reassuring smile, as if he were the savior of a girl left alone.
But whenever Daniel’s gaze fell on her, Sierra felt as if insects were crawling all over her skin. The back of her hand itched.
Her skin crawled. A thin-legged house spider was climbing up her. Sierra could only watch it, unable to brush it away.
Mrs. Miles’ lips stretched into a long smile as she watched Sierra fail to answer.
“And there is more good news. They say they will return your father’s body.”
When Mrs. Miles glanced at her husband, Pastor Miles continued speaking.
“It seems those vile men have agreed to a compromise. At last we can hold a funeral and let Mr. Knightley go.”
The pastor’s face looked relieved as he used the word at last to speak of her father’s death.
On a day when even the dark sky held no rain, the man arrived together with her father’s body that had not been allowed to rest.
***
Sierra stood by the window, watching the hearse carrying her father’s coffin. The long car, stretched out like a snake, slowly approached the house.
“It’s better not to stare too much. They say in the backstreets of Newland, you can get shot just for making eye contact with those people.”
The pastor’s son warned her. Sierra watched Daniel, who couldn’t look directly for fear of being shot.
She turned her eyes to those people getting out of the car.
Just then, a black car pulled up beside the hearse.
The door opened. A man stepped out from the driver’s seat, the hem of his coat fluttering in the winter wind. A black coat, black leather gloves, even his hair was black.
In a winter that had lost every trace of color, a man of pure monochrome stood upon the snow. Like a dark stain spreading over a spotless canvas.
During sermons, the pastor often preached about devils who tempt people.
“Those who betray our Heavenly Father and follow false prophets will burn in the fires of hell. The false prophet comes imitating a holy saint. With a beautiful face and alluring words, he will lead us into corruption.”
The pastor’s threatening shout echoed in her ears.
“He will tear you away from your beloved family, keep you from reaching heaven, keep you from being welcomed into the arms of our Heavenly Father.”
A group of people bowed deeply to the man in the black coat. But the man did not bow back. He simply stood straight and looked toward the house before him.
His gaze rose from the ground to the sky, and as it traveled upward, it reached the window where Sierra stood.
Was he looking this way? The moment she felt their eyes meet, a chill scraped down the back of her neck.
“Sierra.”
The pastor’s son called her name. Sierra flinched. She had been too tense.
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