Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 575: Slow Days, Fast Plans (Part 10)

Chapter 575: Chapter 575: Slow Days, Fast Plans (Part 10)

Meanwhile—

Within the confines of SHQ, the mood had shifted.

The headquarters had always carried a rigid atmosphere. Concrete walls reinforced with steel. Access points layered behind scanners and coded panels.

Now—

It felt like a forward operating base.

Since the UPSDF increased its presence, uniformed soldiers were stationed at nearly every visible corner. Hallways once staffed by analysts and clerks now featured armed personnel standing at ease, boots planted wide, rifles slung across their chests.

Radios crackled intermittently—krrt~—voices muttering in coded brevity.

There were few places one could look without seeing military blue or green.

Inside the main building, tension showed most clearly among those who didn’t wear armor.

Administrative staff moved slower. Conversations cut off quickly when soldiers passed. Several employees clustered near a break area, whispering with tight expressions before dispersing when a patrol rounded the corner.

Benjamin was one of those who felt the shift deeply.

Paperwork was his battlefield.

And lately, even that felt hostile.

He adjusted the files tucked under his arm and walked toward the director’s office. His shoes tapped steadily against the polished floor.

He reached the office just as the door opened.

A woman stepped out.

Full military uniform. Clean press. Rank insignia polished.

She looked to be in her forties. Lines around her eyes hinted at experience rather than age. Her posture was upright, shoulders square. She stood a little taller than Benjamin, and when her gaze dropped to him, it was measured.

Benjamin straightened immediately and adjusted his glasses.

"Good afternoon, Commander Miller," he said formally.

She gave him a single nod.

"Good afternoon."

Her tone was level.

Nothing more.

She moved past him without pause, boots striking the floor with controlled weight.

Benjamin watched her go for a moment.

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

Then knocked lightly and stepped into the office.

Director Graham sat behind his desk, which had long since lost any resemblance to organization. Folders were stacked unevenly. Reports half-open. Sticky notes placed at odd angles. A tablet blinked with unread notifications near his elbow.

He was reading a personnel file closely when Benjamin entered.

"Uhm... Director?"

Graham looked up.

His expression shifted quickly—from stern focus to something almost irritated.

"Oh, Benjamin."

He gestured him forward.

"Come in, come in. What can I do for you?"

Benjamin stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

He scanned the desk.

Personnel files. Logistics summaries. Incident reports. Resource allocation projections.

Too many.

His brows knit together.

"It’s more about what I can do for you, sir," Benjamin replied carefully. "You seem... on edge."

Graham leaned back in his chair.

The leather creaked softly—creeeak~

"I am," he admitted.

He rubbed a hand over his face. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"But what choice do I have? Ever since the UPSDF stationed here, everything’s been layered in oversight. Every move examined."

He gestured vaguely toward the door.

"They don’t trust us to manage our own house."

Benjamin shifted his weight.

"And the situation with Barclay doesn’t help our standing with the public either," he added. "They’re saying if he could be corrupt, anyone else could."

Director Graham’s expression hardened slightly.

"I don’t care about public chatter," he said flatly. "All I care about is doing my job."

He leaned forward again, flipping a page in one of the files.

"If I focus on noise, I won’t get anything done."

Benjamin hesitated.

He stepped forward and gently placed the folder he’d been carrying onto the desk.

"These are the revised compliance reports you asked for."

Graham nodded once without looking up.

"Good. Leave them."

Benjamin lingered.

His eyes studied the director for a second longer than usual.

Graham hadn’t shaved as cleanly as he normally did. His tie was slightly loosened. His eyes carried faint shadows beneath them.

The weight on this office had grown heavier.

"Then I’ll leave you to it... sir," Benjamin said quietly.

"Go ahead," Graham replied, already flipping to the next page.

Benjamin turned and walked toward the door.

He paused only briefly before exiting, casting one last glance back.

Graham hadn’t looked up again.

The door shut with a muted click.

Outside, the hallway felt colder.

A pair of soldiers walked past him in step—boots striking the floor in unison.

Benjamin adjusted his glasses once more.

And continued down the corridor.

---

It was a little past 10 p.m.

Downtown.

The bar Benjamin chose wasn’t loud enough to be called lively, but not quiet enough to be intimate either.

Warm overhead lights cast a muted glow over polished wood tables and a long counter lined with bottles. The windows stretched nearly floor to ceiling, giving a clear view of the street outside.

Beyond the glass—

Military patrols passed at steady intervals.

Two soldiers at a time. Sometimes four. Boots striking pavement in rhythm. Vehicles rolling slowly past intersections. Blue and green reflected faintly against storefronts.

Inside, conversation carried on in low waves.

Benjamin sat at a small table near the window. His jacket hung over the back of his chair. A half-finished beer rested in front of him.

Across from him sat Jimmy.

Loose suit. Collar slightly undone. Tie stuffed into his coat pocket. His glasses lay on the table beside his drink as if he’d abandoned any attempt at professionalism hours ago. A tumbler of whisky rested in his hand.

Jimmy lifted it and took a heavy swallow.

He slammed it down harder than necessary—thk~

Shook his head.

Sighed.

"I just don’t get it, Benjie."

Benjamin glanced up from his beer.

Jimmy gestured vaguely in the air with one hand.

"I mean... I do."

He paused.

Then waved his hand again as if trying to organize his thoughts physically.

"But I don’t."

He grabbed the glass again and took another sip.

"Okay, we need the UPSDF to deal with this spineworm—or whatever you want to call it—issue."

He leaned forward slightly.

"But why the hell do we have to give up our workspace and privileges?"

His voice lowered, though frustration still edged it.

"At this point we’re getting taken over by the DOD. It’s insane."

Benjamin took a slower sip of his beer.

The carbonation fizzed faintly—tss~

He swallowed.

"It’s beyond us, Jimmy," he said evenly. "We’re paper pushers."

He rotated the glass in his hand.

"Who knows what the hell the higher-ups are thinking."

Jimmy leaned in closer, lowering his voice further.

"Do you think it’s a cover-up?"

Benjamin raised a brow.

"What makes you think that?"

Jimmy didn’t lean back.

"Everyone already knows about Havenridge. Not exactly what happened, but something’s off."

He tapped a finger against the table.

"Why the hell are multiple other agencies joining in?"

Benjamin watched him carefully.

Jimmy continued.

"I heard the North Atlantic City Department director died in an accident two days ago."

He held up two fingers.

"Four days later, the department formally ratified emergency inter-agency cooperation and authorized full operational entry of the UPSDF under federal crisis authority."

He sat back now, throwing both hands in the air.

"But what do I know?"

A humorless chuckle escaped him.

"I’m just a tech geek."

Benjamin kept his expression neutral.

He lifted his beer and took another drink.

But his brows knit slightly.

Havenridge.

Full federal cooperation.

Emergency authorization.

Outside, a patrol vehicle rolled past the window. Its headlights swept briefly across their table before continuing on.

The rest of the night didn’t drift far from the same subject.

Agency movements.

Budget reallocations.

Unusual oversight memos.

Jimmy vented.

Benjamin listened more than he spoke.

Eventually, Jimmy’s phone lit up with a vibration—bzzzt~

Then again.

And again.

He squinted at the screen.

"Argh," he groaned. "The wife."

Another notification.

"Dammit."

He pushed himself up from the table, slightly unsteady.

"I gotta go, Benjie."

He grabbed his glasses clumsily and stuffed them into his pocket.

"I’ll see you in a week."

He paused, swaying faintly.

"You should come over for lunch Wednesday though."

Benjamin lifted his glass in response.

"I’ll let you know."

Jimmy nodded, then shuffled toward the exit, brushing past a chair on his way out≥

The door swung open and shut behind him.

Benjamin remained seated.

He stared at the condensation forming along his glass.

Then reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.

He unlocked it.

Scrolled through his contacts.

His thumb slowed.

Stopped.

Don Bright.

He hovered over the call button.

Paused.

Calling felt too direct.

Instead, he tapped message.

His fingers moved across the screen.

*Are you free to meet? It’s important.*

He stared at the text for a second.

Then pressed send.

The message whooshed and Benjamin leaned back in his chair and took another sip of beer.

Outside, another patrol passed.

Inside, the bar carried on.

He stared through the glass at the dimly lit street.

’Just what the hell is going on?’

He didn’t have an answer.

But he had a feeling the pieces were moving faster than anyone inside SHQ was admitting.

---

Here’s a satire-style author’s note that keeps your meaning but leans into humor and self-awareness:

---

**A/N:**

As we crawl—no, *strategically advance*—toward the volume finale, I’ve been trying to sneak in as much character growth and relationship evolution as humanly possible before everything inevitably catches fire.

You may notice slightly longer conversations. Suspicious emotional depth. People acting like they have inner lives.

This is intentional.

The tricky part (besides keeping my sanity) is making sure all of this development actually ties into the plot instead of feeling like I woke up and decided to write a slice-of-life spin-off. So if it looks like we’re just "hanging out" with characters for a bit, I promise there’s a reason.

Probably.

So far I think we’re balancing it well.

As always, thank you for reading, supporting, theorizing wildly, and keeping me motivated.

If you feel like blessing the story with a power stone or a golden ticket, I won’t fight you.

See you in the next Chapter.