Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 567: Slow Days, Fast Plans (Part 2)

Several hours later, the late afternoon had softened into evening.

The course below rolled outward in long green stretches broken by sand traps and water features that mirrored the fading sky.

The sun hovered low, casting warm light across the fairways, shadows stretching thin across the terrain.

Don now wore a pair of white and gray golfing shoes—scuffed lightly at the toes, grass stains brushing along the sides, small grains of sand still clinging near the soles from an unfortunate bunker encounter.

They sat at an upper-floor lounge area overlooking the course through tall window walls. The table between them was small but polished—dark wood with a brass edge.

Crystal glasses rested on coasters. A chilled bottle sat in a silver bucket. Small plates held arranged fruit, thin crackers, and bite-sized hors d’oeuvres placed with exact spacing.

Soft ambient lighting overhead balanced the dying sun beyond the glass.

"Not too bad for your first time," Claire said, folding her hands neatly on the table.

Don leaned back in his chair slightly, one ankle resting over the opposite knee.

"If that were true," he said, "those kids wouldn’t have been laughing at me."

Claire gave a light chuckle and lifted her glass, taking a measured sip.

"Perhaps."

He watched her over the rim of his own drink.

"I quite enjoyed myself," she continued. "You make for good company."

"I do?" Don asked, raising a brow.

She nodded once. "The usual company I find myself with is almost always related to business. And even when it is not, I must endure the advances of men who know not the value of restraint."

Her fingers traced the stem of her glass lightly as she spoke.

"Imagine attempting to enjoy a peaceful moment on the course, only for some man to drone on about how profitable his start-up is."

Don huffed a quiet laugh. "You go through a lot."

"That I do," she replied, calm as ever.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Outside, a cart rolled along a distant path, tires humming faintly against pavement~.

Claire shifted her gaze back to him.

"Perhaps next time, you can invite me to a hobby of yours."

The statement lingered.

Don considered it.

*Do I even have hobbies?*

Training. Planning. Managing. Family dinners when he could make them.

Free time these past couple of days had become something scheduled, not enjoyed.

He exhaled softly.

"You’ll be disappointed to know I don’t have many hobbies," he admitted. "But I would appreciate your company while I explore some."

Claire lifted her glass slightly, a small smile forming.

"I shall await that invite then."

They spoke for a while longer after that—lighter topics, occasional observations about the course below, brief pauses where neither felt the need to talk.

Eventually, Claire set her glass down and checked the time.

"I think it is about time we get going," she said. "I’ve told my driver to pick Sylvia and me up from your residence."

"Sure," Don replied, straightening in his seat.

Then he hesitated.

"Uh, before that... I need your help with something."

Claire tilted her head slightly, eyes studying him through the thin frames of her glasses.

"Hm?"

Close to an hour later, Don’s car rolled into the private garage.

The engine cut.

He stepped out first, walking around to Claire’s side as she emerged with the same measured composure she’d left with earlier. In his hand was a small carrier bag—white with thin golden edges, the paper thick and structured.

They entered the penthouse side by side.

The living room greeted them in low evening light. The sun had nearly set, leaving a warm glow spilling faintly from the kitchen area beyond, while the rest of the home rested under softer ambient lighting built into it.

Only two people occupied the space.

Amanda sat sprawled across the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other propped against the coffee table.

On the television, two monster trucks strained against each other in a tug-of-war, engines roaring through the speakers—VRRRRRM~—tires spinning, dirt spraying in slow motion.

Empty beer bottles littered the table in front of her.

Winter stood beside it, collecting them one by one. Amanda wore jean shorts with frayed edges by design and a loose shirt with deliberate rips along the sleeves and collar. Casual. Worn. Comfortable.

Winter looked up first.

"Welcome, Don. Madam. May I get you anything?"

"I’m good," Don said, adjusting the carrier bag slightly in his hand.

He glanced at Claire.

She shook her head. "No, thank you. Though I would appreciate it if you may inform my daughter I am here and that it is time to leave."

It was then that Amanda followed Winter’s gaze.

She raised a bottle in greeting, slightly off-balance.

"Hiya, you guys," she called out. "Where are you from?"

"Golf," Don replied, walking toward her. "You should try it sometime."

Amanda squinted at him. "Can I drink on the course?"

"No."

She frowned immediately. "I’ll stick to good old United Provinces sports then. Thank you very much."

Claire smiled faintly at that.

"I’ve informed Summer," Winter said. "Sylvia will be out soon."

Claire tilted her head slightly. "You have?"

"I am able to communicate with anyone in the household directly to their devices or nearby speakers within the walls," Winter explained.

"I see," Claire said. "How convenient."

"Indeed."

Claire’s gaze shifted briefly around the room before settling back on Don. "Quite the capable help you have here."

"Amen to that," Amanda added, lifting her bottle again. "It’s like having a personal butler twenty-four seven."

Don leaned one forearm against the back of the sofa behind Amanda.

"Maybe I should have her stop helping you, Aunt Amanda. You’re becoming too lazy."

Amanda gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense.

"Oh, come on. Once my farm is up and running again, I’ll be back to long days in the fields. Let a girl rest while she can." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You owe me for the trouble I helped you get out of as a kid."

Claire’s brows lifted with interest. "Oh? So he was not always a well-mannered young man?"

Amanda scoffed loudly. "Well-mannered? A little demon is what he was. Going missing. Breaking stuff. Spying on girls—"

Don cleared his throat.

"I think she gets the point."

Claire looked toward him with amusement in her eyes. "My, my. You sound like you were quite the adventurer. You must share some of these tales with me next time."

"If he doesn’t, I will," Amanda declared proudly.

Don shot her a look. "Traitor."

Both women laughed—Amanda’s bright and unrestrained, drowning out Claire’s softer, measured one.

As their laughter tapered off, footsteps approached from the hallway.

Sylvia appeared first, Summer just behind her.

Sylvia wore her school uniform again, though the tie was gone and the top button undone. The shirt was slightly less neat than usual, sleeves rolled just a little. She carried herself like she’d been in no rush at all.

Summer followed in loose home clothes—soft joggers and an oversized tee, hair slightly tousled.

"What’s so funny?" Sylvia asked, eyes flicking between the adults.

"Just idle conversation, dear," Claire replied. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yep," Sylvia said. "Me and Summer had a really great time."

Her gaze slid briefly toward Don.

Subtle. Intentional.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed slightly at that.

Claire, however, paid it no mind. "Wonderful."

She turned to Summer. "Thank you for hosting my daughter. Is your mother in? I would like to thank her as well."

Winter answered before Summer could. "She is currently in the bath."

"In that case," Claire said, "I shall ask that you pass on my thanks."

"Uh, no problem," Summer replied, shifting her weight awkwardly.

"Thank you, dear."

Claire turned gracefully toward the door. "Until next time, Mr. Bright."

"Until next time," Don replied.

Sylvia followed behind her mother.

As she passed Don, her hand moved without warning.

A firm grab was given to Don’s rear.

Quick. Confident.

She winked at him as she continued walking.

Don didn’t react outwardly.

Summer definitely noticed.

Her mouth parted slightly as if to say something. She stopped herself. Instead, she turned to Don.

"Where’d you go?" she asked.

"Wouldn’t you like to know," he replied.

He held onto the small white-and-gold bag and started moving down the hallway.

As he passed Summer, he reached out and ruffled her hair once.

"Miss me? Want another movie night?"

Her face flushed instantly.

"No!"

She spun on her heel and stormed off toward her room.

Halfway down the hallway she stopped, turned back just enough to shout, "You’re not invited!"

Then she disappeared, the sound of her door shutting with a firm thud~ moments later.

Amanda glanced away from the television.

"What did you do this time?"

Don shrugged lightly. "No idea."

Amanda studied him for a second longer, then shrugged as well and turned back to the monster trucks battling on-screen.

Don continued down the hall, heading not for his room, but Samantha’s.