Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Don and Tori remained at the viewing deck, their conversation casual as the match unfolded beneath them.

And as much as Don would've liked to pretend otherwise, watching a live superhuman battle was something else entirely.

Seeing it on a screen was one thing—edited, broadcasted, slowed down for dramatic effect—but in person?

It was... incredible.

The sheer power behind each strike, the way the fighters weaved through each other's attacks with just the right amount of force—enough to be devastating but not lethal.

The control was what stood out the most.

Each attack was calculated, every movement refined, ensuring that neither fighter went too far.

Don could see why this kind of restraint was necessary.

Superheroes weren't meant to kill. At least… most of them weren't.

Those who did were often criticized, branded as villains in disguise, or worse—ostracized from the hero community entirely.

Redstar was a prime example.

Don's gaze flicked downward as he leaned into the railing, his fingers tapping against the smooth metal.

'If I were to go that route publicly… a known killer… how would my family react?'

For all his planning, all his strategic thinking, Don had been putting off this particular question for some time now.

The public reaction was easy to predict—controversy, outrage, debates on whether he was a necessary evil or a reckless threat.

But his family?

Samantha?

That was harder to predict.

Would she understand? Would she turn away?

Don exhaled sharply through his nose. No point in thinking about that now.

His thoughts were interrupted as Hector's voice cut through the crowd, louder than usual.

"Bro, I'm sorry I underestimated your game."

Don turned his head just as Hector and Donald emerged from the crowd, Hector's grin wider than usual, his arm slung lazily over Donald's shoulder while his free hand tapped his chest as if hyping him up.

Donald, however, didn't look nearly as enthusiastic.

"Did you see how those girls looked at us?" Hector continued, clearly still riding the high of whatever had just happened.

Donald sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I think they just misunderstood what I was trying to say… maybe they think my uncle is some big shot—"

Hector immediately shrugged, cutting him off.

"Who cares?" He grinned. "Listen to me, man. You don't get to date pretty girls without lying a little… or a lot about yourself."

At the sound of Hector's voice, Tori turned sharply, already frowning. "And what do you know about dating pretty girls?"

Don, meanwhile, leaned away from the railing, choosing to ignore the sibling bickering as he focused back on Hector.

"Seems you two had a successful two-man."

Hector grinned, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Better than okay, man! They're Eastern Europeans! From the Bakans!"

Donald let out an exhausted sigh before correcting him. "Balkans, bro."

Hector nodded quickly, as if it didn't matter.

"Yes, that! Fact is, they're hot. This is our chance to be snowmen, Donald—the details don't matter."

Tori's frown deepened, and before Hector could ramble any further, she immediately laid into him, launching into a roast session about why he would never stand a chance with a high-class girl.

Don tuned them out, his focus shifting as he noticed Donald's distracted gaze.

Following it, Don's eyes landed on a duo of girls standing at another viewing deck—a pair of gorgeous women that practically oozed expense.

The kind of women that could drain a man's bank account and soul in equal measure.

Don could practically feel his wallet vibrate just looking at them.

But as his gaze lingered, something else caught his attention.

Daniel.

He was walking away from that very deck, but he wasn't alone. A girl was with him.

She had an innocent look, almost Tori-like, following along beside him while Daniel wore that same mask of charm he had earlier.

Don's eyes narrowed.

Without a fuss, he stepped away from the group, saying only—"I'll be right back."

He didn't clarify, didn't explain.

Tori and Hector both paused mid-argument, looking after him in confusion, while Donald only gave a quick glance back before returning to his usual state of awkward discomfort.

To them, it looked like Don was just heading toward the bar.

But Don had other reasons.

Before he could get far, a sudden eruption of cheers burst from the stadium below, drawing everyone's attention.

One of the fighters had just pulled off an insane power move, sending the crowd into absolute hysteria.

"¡Holy shit!" Hector shouted, eyes wide. "That was insane!"

A few of the more reserved elites in their vicinity immediately turned to stare disapprovingly at Hector's outburst.

Tori whipped her head toward him, immediately smacking his shoulder.

"Hector, shut up!" she hissed.

Donald, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to evaporate from the scene entirely.

———

Don stood at the bar, his posture relaxed, one elbow resting against the smooth surface as he casually lifted his glass toward the android bartender.

The faceless attendant acknowledged the request without a word, reaching for the same bottle Don had pointed to before pouring him a fresh refill. The quiet **glug-glug** of the liquid filling his glass was the only sound between them.

But Don's focus wasn't on his drink.

Just a few feet away, Daniel had led the girl to the bar.

Don watched, not obviously, but carefully, his gaze shifting only slightly behind the dark tint of his aviators.

Daniel was smooth. Too smooth. The kind of guy who didn't fumble when making a move.

Don had already seen his act once with Tori, and now, watching him with Natasha, it was clear—this wasn't the first time.

Not even close.

Daniel ordered two drinks immediately, flashing the bartender a charming grin, all while keeping Natasha engaged in light conversation.

Don didn't need to listen in—he already knew the script. Flattery, fake interest, some grand story to keep her entertained.

But what he did need to know was whether the drinks came pre-spiked. That was the real question.

Because if they did, it meant Daniel had influence over the staff, which would suggest something deeper—connections, bribed employees, maybe even ownership ties.

But if he spiked them himself?

That was leverage.

Without changing his posture, Don activated Gary Assist with a small flick of his finger against the frame of his glasses.

A clean VR interface sprang to life within his vision, the overlay unobtrusive but efficient.

Immediately, notifications popped up in the corner of his sight, Gary Assist automatically scanning and identifying everyone in his field of view.

Small profile windows opened up in neat holographic text boxes, providing brief but useful intel on the two he chose to focus on.

———

Daniel Wren – Son of Financier Ethan Wren | Net Worth: $12M | Known Affiliations: TBD | Threat Level: Low-Medium

Natasha Ivankov – Model & Socialite | Net Worth: $2M | Status: Emma's Secret Model (Freelance) | Threat Level: None

———

Don barely reacted, simply taking in the details without shifting his focus.

The data was helpful, but for now, his eyes stayed on Daniel.

And just like that, he got what he was waiting for.

With effortless precision, Daniel subtly slipped a pink pill from under his sleeve, letting it drop into the drink in one smooth motion.

Even Don barely saw it. And he was looking for it.

If it weren't for his heightened perception, the pill would have vanished in the drink's natural fizziness before anyone could notice.

That meant two things. The first; Daniel was experienced. The way he did it—no hesitation, no excess movement—was the mark of someone who had done this before.

The second; He didn't have staff connections. If the drinks were pre-spiked, it would have been riskier for him to tamper with them himself. That meant he was acting alone.

Don's fingers lightly tapped against the side of his glass. 'How much experience does he have with this? And to what extent?'

Honestly? Despite the thought, Don didn't want to know. Because the answer wouldn't make him any less disgusted.

But what mattered now was leverage.

Natasha, meanwhile, had zero hesitation as she accepted the drink. She lifted the glass without even a second glance and took a long sip.

Don exhaled sharply through his nose.

She had no idea.

Daniel, taking a sip from his own untouched drink, gestured casually toward the elevators.

"Let's hurry and go to Madam Annette's room," he said smoothly, his voice warm with excitement. "She should be freshening up and getting ready to leave."

Natasha's eyes lit up with excitement, a thrilled gasp slipping from her lips.

"Oh my God, I'm so excited," she said in a thick Russian accent.

Don's eyes flicked upward. Madam Annette?

As if reading his thoughts, Gary Assist pulled up another profile window in the corner of his vision.

———

Madam Annette Deveraux – Founder of Belle Reve Agency | Net Worth: $250M | Industry: High Fashion & Luxury Events

———

Attached to the profile was an image—a red carpet photo of Daniel and Annette, the latter giving him a peck on the cheek at some award show event.

'Interesting.'

Don took a slow sip of his drink, absorbing the new information.

So, Daniel had a direct connection to Annette.

Whether it was business, personal, or something else entirely, Don didn't know. But one thing was clear—whatever Daniel was planning, it involved bringing Natasha to her.

Don watched as they moved toward the elevators, Natasha still buzzing with naïve excitement, while Daniel led her forward with that same easy charm.

Don set his glass down before smoothly pushing away from the bar.

'Time to follow.'