Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Roughly thirty minutes had passed since Don and Donald picked up Hector and Tori. Traffic, which had been crawling at a snail's pace, finally eased, allowing the G-Wagon to resume its journey.

The midtown skyline ahead was dominated by a gleaming structure that seemed to defy architectural norms—an enormous, palace-like stadium that stood out even against the urban setup.

Don glanced up from his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of the stadium. It was a closed, state-of-the-art arena, its outer shell gleaming with iridescent panels that caught the light in waves.

Its design combined futuristic sleekness with flashy touches—golden accents wrapped around its upper levels, and its base was encircled by a series of wide, marble-like steps.

On his phone, Gary Assist displayed more details about the place: The Crown Coliseum Casino, boasting a capacity of 55,000, all VIP-seating.

The arena didn't just host superhuman showdowns; it was also a playground for the obscenely wealthy, doubling as a high-end casino with huge gambling floors hidden behind its towering walls. The owner, it seemed, was some eccentric billionaire whose face Don had seen once or twice on the news.

'Gambling house for rich idiots,' Don thought, unimpressed despite the grandeur. 'No different than those underground joints with boxing matches back in my world… just legal.' He let the phone drop into his lap and glanced in the rearview mirror.

Hector's phone was angled toward the open rear window, where the looming stadium was perfectly framed. He was narrating animatedly.

"Look, chat! ¡Mira! This is where it's goin' down!" Hector shouted into the camera, his grin wide as he zoomed in on the building.

Tori sat beside him, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she scrolled through her own phone, occasionally jabbing the screen with an irritated tap. Her jaw was tight, though she said nothing, her sour mood evident.

The car hummed with low energy—just the soft drone of radio music and Hector's occasional exclamations as he kept engaging his "fans."

Donald, meanwhile, remained focused on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. Every so often, Hector would toss out a question or ask for feedback, only to be met with silence from Don and Tori. Eventually, Donald would chime in, his voice flat but obliging, breaking the monotony.

"Looks big enough to fit a whole city block," Donald said absentmindedly, nodding toward the approaching stadium.

Hector, eager for more, pushed, "Yo, you think this place got free food inside, or is it one of those 'rich man only' deals?"

Donald gave a half-smile. "Guess you'll find out soon enough."

Hector laughed, but the moment passed without much fanfare.

When they finally pulled into the expansive parking lot, the change in atmosphere was immediate.

Don glanced out the window, his usually unreadable expression shifting slightly as his gaze swept over the sea of supercars and luxury SUVs parked in neat rows. The hum of expensive engines and the occasional **beep-beep** of automatic locks filled the air.

Hector leaned halfway out of the rear window, his camera moving erratically as he tried to capture everything. "Yo, look at that! Is that a Lambo? Damn, chat, look at the rims on that McLaren!"

Tori finally stirred from her sulking, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes darted from one flashy car to another, lingering on a couple of the women stepping out of them. Their dresses shimmered, and some walked like they owned the world.

"Jesus," Tori muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing at a particularly stunning brunette. "Who even wears that to a fight?"

Don couldn't help but notice the outfits either, though he remained quiet. The peacock dress. The man in full 1600s regalia. The velvet ropes and the camera crew stationed near the busiest entrance, where people stopped to pose like they were attending an awards show. It was a spectacle, one that felt completely detached from anything Don had experienced before.

"Over the top," he murmured to himself, his tone flat.

Donald kept his eyes on the parking lot, scanning for a space. "Alright, let's find somewhere before Hector starts pointing out every license plate."

Before Don could respond, he felt it—a sudden shift in the sound of engines nearby. His head snapped toward Donald, instincts kicking in. "Hit the brakes!"@@novelbin@@

"What—"

**CRUNCH!**

Out nowhere, a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan collided with the G-Wagon, the impact surprising everyone inside.

"¡Ay, cabrón!" Hector yelled as his phone slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

"Shit," Don cursed, his voice low.

"Dammit! What the fuck?" Donald snapped, gripping the wheel tightly as he stared at the offending vehicle.

Tori on the other hand winced, rubbing her shoulder where it had bumped the seat. "What the hell was that?"

The damage was visible but mild—a dent on the rear bumper of the G-Wagon and a scrape along the side of the Rolls-Royce.

The crunch of metal on metal reverberated across the lot, loud enough to overcome the sound of the surrounding luxury engines.

Heads turned almost instantly, some drivers lowering their tinted windows while a few pedestrians froze mid-stride. A cluster of girls, glued to their phones, gasped as they looked up from their screens.

"Oh my gosh, like what happened?" one whispered, already holding her phone up to record.

Inside the G-Wagon, the shock hit like a second collision. Donald's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he glared out at the Rolls-Royce. His confusion only seemed to amplify his anger. "What the fuck was that guy thinking? Is he drunk or something?"

From the backseat, Tori groaned softly, rubbing the side of her head. "They came out of nowhere," she muttered.

Hector, meanwhile, was scrambling to pick up his phone from the floor. He checked the screen, his face falling when he saw the live stream had frozen. Experience new stories on My Virtual Library Empire

"Sorry, chat!" he said quickly as he reconnected. "We just got rammed into by some asshole in a Rolls-Royce. Why the hell was he trying to take the same parking spot?" He swung the camera around, angling it out the open window to show the black SUV now sitting at an awkward angle behind them.

In the front seat, Don let out a long sigh, resting his temple against his hand. 'What a way to start the night.' His fingers drummed once on the console before he leaned toward Donald, giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

"You better get the guy's information," Don said, his tone calm.

Hector, never one to miss an opportunity to contribute, nodded vigorously. "That's right! Before he decides to leave, get everything. The valet dude saw what happened, and a place like this for sure has cameras around."

As Hector spoke, he popped his door open and stepped out before anyone else. "Hey, man!" he shouted across the lot, waving one arm. "You almost killed us! What the hell?"

Don rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose as he undid his seatbelt and followed. The door to the G-Wagon opened with a soft **clunk**, and Don stepped out, keeping his posture loose as he walked over to Hector.

"Hector, relax," he said quietly, gripping his arm to pull him back a few steps. "Let's hear what he has to say first." His voice was measured, almost bored, but there was convincing weight behind it.

Hector gave him an exaggerated sigh, running a hand over his buzzed hair for effect. "Fine, fine," he muttered. Then, glancing at his phone, he tilted the camera toward himself. "Did you see that, chat? It really came outta nowhere. Crazy, right?"

Ignoring him, Don turned his focus to the damage. He crouched slightly to get a better look at the rear bumper, where a shallow dent and a streak of black paint marred the otherwise pristine surface of the G-Wagon.

His eyes narrowed briefly before flicking toward the Rolls-Royce, which had a long scrape along its front corner.

As Don stood, both car doors opened almost simultaneously. Donald emerged first, running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head. His frown deepened as he took in the damage, a mixture of annoyance and worry evident in his stance.

From the Rolls-Royce, a short, young man stepped out, slamming the heavy door behind him. He couldn't have been more than 150cm tall, but he carried himself with a swagger that tried to compensate for his stature.

His designer button-up shirt, printed with an abstract gold pattern, hung loose over brown trousers that looked equally expensive. On his feet were oversized black boots that seemed more like a fashion statement than practical footwear.

His gelled hair, with shaved sides and medium length on top, caught the light as he adjusted a heavy gold necklace resting above a spotless collar.

The watch on his wrist sparkled just as much as his necklace, catching Hector's attention. "Damn," Hector whispered into his phone, "that's drip, though."

The young man barely spared them a glance before storming over to inspect the Rolls-Royce. His face twisted into an angry scowl as he threw his hands into the air.

"What the fuck!?" he yelled out, turning toward the group. "Look what you did to my car, you piece of shit!"

Don remained still, his expression unchanging as his eyes flicked toward the man. Donald, however, froze mid-step, his hand dropping from his head as confusion flashed across his face.

"What we did?" Donald said, his voice rising slightly. "Are you serious right now?"

The young man didn't seem to care for explanations, instead gesturing wildly toward the scrape on his car. "You're in my spot! What'd you think was gonna happen?"