Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 496: Path Chosen (Part 1)

Predator didn’t bother checking himself—he didn’t need to. The change sat in his bones. Taller than before, nearly brushing six feet 7 inches now. And that wasn’t the armor’s trickery. That was him.

The suit still clung to him like black water, shadows shifting over the surface in slow, tidal movements.

Every activation came with that same sensation—submerged, weightless, with nothing but dark in every direction. Oddly calming. Too calming.

He lifted a hand. Tendrils drifted lazily above the knuckles like steam refusing to rise.

"I feel fine," he said, voice low. "However... it never feels like I can’t satisfy the hunger this causes in me." His head tilted slightly. "It worries me because even now—" he eyed Gary, "—even for you, I don’t see a person. I see a meal."

Gary didn’t step back. He just raised a brow, arms hanging loose at his sides.

"If such power came with no drawbacks, sir," Gary said, tone steady, "I imagine the world would be far more chaotic than it already is."

He slid his hands behind his back, boots nudging aside a pebble on the broken road. "Arcane items—especially ones bound to a person—require will. The key is remembering it serves you." His gaze flicked meaningfully to the shifting tendrils. "Not the other way around."

Predator’s eyes dimmed a fraction. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

So it was like that. If the water overwhelmed you, you drowned.

Gary went on, glancing toward the treeline as minions rummaged around one of the disabled Escalades. "I’m searching for someone more versed in the arcane to assist us, but it’s been... tricky. If you ever feel overwhelmed, I’d advise limiting usage."

Predator considered that longer than he liked. He rarely cared to discuss abilities with anyone, but he lacked knowledge—and he trusted very few. Winter. Gary. Were among those few.

"I’ll keep that in mind," he said at last. "Update me if there’s anything else. We’re done here."

Gary inclined his head. "Indeed, sir. Look forward to tomorrow morning."

"I will," Predator replied.

Then he vanished—suit folding into the dark and slipping through the cracks of reality without sound.

Gary exhaled once, rolling out his shoulders. The smoke still hung in the air, drifting off the ruined road like fog from a dying engine.

He walked toward the roadside dirt where his karambits lay. Each blade shimmered faintly—green lines crawling along their curves with the lazy pulse of something toxic and alive.

Gary crouched, picked them up, and tested their weight with a small, satisfied smirk.

They throbbed once in his palms.

He slid them back into his coat.

He turned toward the minions. "Alright," he announced, voice dry, "let’s return to base before anything else decides to go wrong. I’m sure our new friend Mr. Richmond will handle the cleanup."

A chorus of low suiiis greeted him as he strode toward them, boots crunching over gravel—.

———

Bright Residence...

Don reappeared in his room with a soft distortion of air—whrrp~—and immediately let the suit peel itself away. The process was usually smooth, but this time felt... wrong.

It resisted.

Not physically—more like a quiet tug inside his ribs, a reluctance to leave. The sensation hit the same way a smoker’s fingers paused over a half-finished pack. Familiar. Uncomfortably inviting.

He didn’t let it sway him.

The suit receded fully, dissolving into ink that vanished along his arm, leaving bare skin behind. He exhaled once, steadying himself, then stretched.

The soreness surprised him until he remembered—his body wasn’t the same size it had been yesterday. Longer bones. Heavier muscle. Everything still adjusting.

"Trixie," he muttered, scanning the room.

Nothing.

Fine. He stripped out of his clothes and tugged on pajama bottoms and a loose sweater. Soft fabric, nothing complicated. The thought tugging at him wasn’t battle or hunger anymore—it was family.

A simple, grounding instinct.

He stepped into the hallway.

The house sat dim, lights low along the walls like a quiet runway. The only sound came from ahead—a faint murmur of a television.

Don followed it.

In the living room, he found Samantha sprawled on the couch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Soft rise and fall. Completely out.

And on her lap, curled like she paid rent for the privilege, was Trixie—tail draped over Samantha’s stomach, both of them breathing in sync.

Don raised a brow. Then a small smile tugged at him—brief, but real.

’I hope she didn’t stay up waiting for me.’

He stepped closer, leaned down, and gently lifted Trixie off Samantha’s lap. The cat-girl barely stirred, only giving a soft snuffle as he set her onto the opposite sofa, tail flicking once and then settling.

Don eased himself onto the couch beside Samantha. He rested his head against her lap, letting her warmth and scent wash over him. No shadows. No hunger. No killing instinct humming at the edges.

Just the TV’s low drone—and her steady breathing.

He closed his eyes.

Sleep chased him instantly.

———

Don woke to a sound that didn’t fit the room.

Not birds.

Not an alarm.

Not Trixie snoring.

A system ping. Soft, muted—but enough to rattle the last bit of sleep from his skull. His eyes crept open, unfocused at first, the living room settling slowly into place around him—the couch, the blanket Samantha still held, the faint glow of the paused TV.

Then the prompt appeared.

Floating neatly over his field of vision.

———

Congratulations.

Powerful lackey gained through villainous means.

Reward: 1800 Villain Points

(VP awarded)

———

He blinked once, twice.

’Not a bad way to start the morning. I guess...’

The prompt flickered out—leaving nothing but the warm weight of someone shifting above him.

Samantha stirred, stretching one leg under the blanket as she sucked in a breath.

"Oh goodness..." she mumbled into her yawn, voice gravel-soft. "What time is it...?"

Don smiled—small, lazy. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

She jerked.

Actually jerked.

A tiny gasp escaped her as she shot upright, hand flying to her chest before she looked down and actually saw him.

"Oh—my—" She cut herself off, exhaling in relief. "Don... you scared me. I thought you were the cat." Her fingers slid into his hair automatically, tousling it once. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

He only looked up at her, amused.

She kept idly combing through his hair. "When did you get here?"

"Woke up late," he said, shifting slightly to keep her hand where it was. "Came to see if you were still up. Found you asleep with Trixie on your lap... got jealous. Hijacked the spot."

Samantha frowned playfully. She lifted her head, scanned the room, and spotted Trixie curled on the opposite sofa—half on her back, tail hanging off the edge.

"Aww. Poor thing. She looks lonely." She shook her head. "You could’ve at least given her a blanket."

Don let out a wounded sigh. "What about me? I didn’t have a blanket."

Samantha removed her hand from his hair and flicked his forehead lightly. "You can survive explosions. I don’t think a little cold will kill you. Unlike that cute little cat."

Don rolled his eyes. "Damn. Beat by a cat."

"Oh, don’t be like that." She smiled down at him, her cheeks warming as she leaned forward. "You know I love you more than any cat."

Her breath brushed his cheek as she came closer—slow, hesitant—eyes half-lidded.

Don didn’t move. Just watched her approach.

Then—

"Gooooood morning!"

Amanda’s voice cut clean through the moment—sing-song, way too awake for the hour.

Samantha snapped upright so fast Don felt the air leave her lungs—and her heart was beating loud enough he didn’t need enhanced hearing.

Don didn’t even bother hiding his smirk.

He called out instead.

"Morning!"

Amanda strolled into the living area wearing a black vest, pajama shorts, and zero shame. She leaned over the back of the couch with a grin.

"Morning, you two! Stay up late watching soap operas?"

Samantha forced a laugh—thin, barely held together. "Y-yeah..."

Amanda squinted, picking up every uneven note, but didn’t press. She leaned back, stretching an arm above her head.

Don cleared his throat, pushing the conversation forward. "Now... about that breakfast..."

Amanda brightened. "Right! Winter?" she called down the hall. "Wanna help me make a powerful breakfast!?"

A faint, dispassionate voice drifted back, "If required."

Samantha eased back against the couch, still flustered, still refusing to look directly at Don.

Trixie snored softly from across the room—shrrrp~.

Don just settled deeper into the cushions, thinking—’not a bad morning at all’.

———

A/N: Apologies for long pause in releases. I’ve had a writers block since last month, constantly trying to see how best to progress the story as we reach a major milestone of 500 Chapters. I really do want to pick up the pace since the first volumes have laid an ok enough foundation. My releases will still be slow, between 4-7 Chapters. To help with taking rest from the project but not writing as a whole, I’ll also be doing another project "Custos Sanguinis". It’s action and plot focused without harem so I doubt it will do much in the novelkiss market but I hope to get some feedback as I will be trying to implement what I’ve learned so far this year into the project from the start. I hope I’m able to improve the standard of this book as well past the 500 Chapter mark. Thanks for reading, see you in the next Chapter