Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 550: A Busy Night (Part 2)

After that, Don stepped off the edge of the roof without ceremony.

The drop was short but hard. He hit the alley below in a low crouch, one hand brushing the ground to bleed off force. The concrete beneath him fractured outward in thin lines—before settling.

He stood, rolled his shoulders once, and walked.

The alley opened toward the street where his Mustang waited near the far end, dark paint swallowing the weak streetlight ahead. He got in, door shutting with a solid thud, and pulled out just as sirens began to rise in the distance——layering over one another.

He drove.

Nearly half an hour passed before the scenery shifted.

The streets narrowed. Apartment blocks rose close together, their balconies stacked like mismatched teeth. Neon signs flickered over late-night dive-ins.

A basketball bounced rhythmically against concrete near a small park—teens laughing, trash talk echoing as a few others leaned against benches, smoke curling up around them.

Groups lingered near corners. Some watched cars too closely. Others didn’t bother hiding who they were. Music bled from open windows. Somewhere deeper in the blocks, a gun cracked once—then nothing followed.

No one ran.

Don slowed as he turned into a parking lot tucked beside one of the taller buildings. A few heads turned. Eyes followed the Mustang until it stopped.

He got out, shut the door, and looked up.

Thirty floors.

He raised a brow, tugged his hoodie up, and headed inside.

Minutes later, the elevator doors slid open on the thirtieth floor—DING~—revealing a hallway that had seen better years.

The lights worked, but not brightly. Empty bottles sat in corners like forgotten markers. Cigarette butts dotted the tile. Old stains had been scrubbed thin but never fully removed.

Don didn’t slow.

He stopped at one door, checked the number, and rang the bell.

Nothing.

He waited a moment, then rang it again.

Still nothing.

A third press.

This time, his ears picked it up—heavy footsteps from the other side. Slow. Uneven. Loaded with irritation.

The door swung open.

Ash stood there scowling, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded and unfriendly. She wore an oversized shirt that hung past her hips and socks pulled halfway up her calves.

"Who the fu—?!"

She stopped short, head tipping back as she took him in.

Her expression shifted. Anger drained into confusion.

"You..." She hesitated. "...what are you doing here... boss?"

The word came late, awkward in her mouth. Same hitch Lily had. Same discomfort.

Don didn’t answer right away.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked instead.

Ash watched him for a second, then stepped aside with a short gesture. "Yeah. Sure."

Her tone said she wasn’t thrilled.

Inside, the apartment was modest but lived in. The kitchen sat just off the entrance, clean enough.

Past it, the living area opened into a combined space—single sofa, bean bag slouched nearby, coffee table cluttered with empty beer bottles. A TV played some old anime at low volume, colors washing the wall.

A guitar rested on a stand near the couch. Posters of rock bands lined the walls. The bedroom sat just beyond, king-sized bed unmade, sheets twisted from use rather than neglect.

Ambient lights softened the space. Scented candles burned near the walls, filling the room with something warm and familiar—vanilla and smoke, maybe.

Ash rubbed one eye and crossed to the fridge. "So," she said, pulling out a bottle of water. "What do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?"

She drank straight from it, watching him over the rim.

Don took it all in. The clutter. The choices. The tells.

He stopped just short of the living room and finally looked at her.

"Oh, nothing much," Don said. "Just came to see how you’re holding up."

Ash blinked. Her brow lifted a fraction as she processed that. "Check up on me?" She gave a short huff. "Uh... I’m okay, I guess. Little sore. I’ll live."

She looked away toward the counter, jaw working as if she were chewing on something she didn’t want to say. Then, quieter, "And... thanks. For bailing me out." A pause. "I’ll pay you back."

Don waved it off without looking at her. "No need."

He slid his hands into his pockets, weight shifting slightly. His head tilted just enough to signal the shift before he spoke again.

"That’s not the only reason I’m here."

Ash turned back to him.

"You’re no longer handling security."

The words landed harder than a slap.

Her face went blank first. Then disbelief crept in. Then anger—tight, compressed, held back by sheer force of will.

"So what you’re saying is..." Her mouth twitched into a humorless curve. "I’m fired. Right?"

She scoffed under her breath. "Should’ve known my shit luck wasn’t over."

The sound cracked at the end. Just a little.

Her eyes burned, not with heat yet, but something raw. ’First the old man. Then the gang. Now this.’

’Fuck. Why me?’

’If I lose this gig—.’

She straightened and met his gaze head-on.

"It’s not easy, y’know?" she said, teeth clenched. "I get it—you come from a better place than me. You don’t really get how the streets work, but..." Her voice roughened. "I did my fucking best out of a very bad situation."

Her fingers tightened around the bottle she’d grabbed. Don’s vision caught it instantly—heat creeping into her grip, slow and steady.

"Ever wonder how that place even went up for sale?" she went on. "Why it came with a crew already in place, locked into shit contracts?" She shook her head. "We got fucked. Hard. Lost our name. And without that? You’re nothing."

She laughed once, low and bitter. "Doesn’t matter how much money you throw at these people. They run. Or they don’t listen. They think I’m just the errand bitch for some rich fucker playing business owner."

Her shoulders rose and fell. "I had to protect your shit alone. The money we paid for security was worth fuck-all."

Don listened without interrupting.

’I jumped the gun,’ he thought. ’Should’ve read the street politics better.’

But that didn’t change the math.

"That’s enough," he said.

Ash stopped mid-breath.

She looked away, anger draining out as quickly as it had built. This wasn’t the fear Predator brought—but it was close enough to shut her down.

Don stepped forward, stopping across the counter from her.

"You’re right."

She looked back, confused. "Huh?"

"I got into this business with a shallow understanding of how things work around here," he said. "That’s on me."

Ash stared at him, clearly bracing for blame that never came.

"But," Don continued.

Her shoulders tensed again.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you failed your duties," he said calmly. "And you lost me money."

She blinked. "But I—"

"You’ll pay it back," Don cut in.

He met her eyes.

"Starting now."