Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 581: Not As It Seems (Part 6)

On Don’s end....

When call ended, the holographic glow disappeared from Don’s screen, leaving only the warm lighting of the mansion’s interior reflecting faintly against the glass balcony doors behind him.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and turned.

At the entrance stood an older maid in a pressed black uniform trimmed with white lace. Her posture was straight, hands folded neatly at her waist. She gave a subtle bow.

"Sir, the table has been served," she said politely. "You may come this way."

"Thanks," Don replied.

He followed her inside.

The walk was short.

Polished marble flooring stretched beneath his steps as they passed through a wide corridor lined with framed artwork and low-lit wall sconces. The air carried a faint scent of cooked herbs and butter.

They arrived at the dining hall.

The room was expansive yet warm in design—soft amber chandeliers overhead, long velvet curtains drawn beside tall windows, candlelight flickering along the length of an extended dining table carved from dark oak.

An array of covered dishes rested atop silver trays. Steam escaped from beneath a few lids—fssst~—hinting at freshly prepared courses. Crystal glasses caught the light. Fine cutlery had been placed with precise spacing.

Several maids stood along the walls, hands clasped, awaiting instruction.

Everyone else was already seated.

Summer and Sylvia sat opposite one another midway down the table. Summer wore a deep blue dress that contrasted with her lighter hair, one shoulder left bare in quiet defiance of the formal setting. Sylvia wore a modest lavender gown, sleeves long and fitted, posture refined and composed.

Across from them sat Samantha and Amanda.

Samantha wore a soft cream dress that flowed neatly over her frame. Around her neck rested the necklace Don had given her recently, centered carefully against her collarbone. She adjusted it once absentmindedly as she glanced at the dishes before her.

Amanda wore a fitted emerald dress with subtle detailing along the hem. She sat upright but relaxed, hands folded near her plate.

At the head of the table sat Miss Claire.

Her attire matched the atmosphere effortlessly—a dark, elegant gown with understated detailing, her hair styled neatly back. She held her wine glass delicately between her fingers, gaze lifting the moment Don entered.

He moved instinctively toward Samantha’s side.

The maid stepped gently into his path.

"Your seat is here, sir."

She gestured toward the opposite head of the table.

Don paused.

Confusion flickered briefly across his face as he looked from the seat... to Claire.

Claire had already been observing him.

In that way of hers.

Eyes steady. Expression unreadable.

She tilted her head faintly.

"It is simply customary that the man be seated at the helm of the table, Don," she said calmly. "I may not look it, but I’m quite traditional, you know."

Summer huffed from midway down the table.

"What man?"

Samantha turned immediately.

"Summer, behave."

Summer folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"I’m just asking."

She looked directly at Don.

He met her gaze with a smug expression before taking his seat.

Chairs shifted softly against the polished floor.

He settled at the opposite head from Claire.

For a brief moment, their eyes met across the length of the table.

Then—

The maids moved.

In near-perfect unison, they began lifting the lids from the dishes.

Silver covers rose—clnk~—releasing warm aromas into the room. Roasted meats glazed and arranged neatly.

Freshly baked breads. Vegetable dishes plated with care. Bowls of fruit. Soups steaming gently. Multiple courses prepared well beyond what six people required.

Claire rested her glass down lightly.

"Please, help yourselves to whatever you’d like," she said. "There’s a wide array of foods present."

Samantha looked down the table, eyes widening slightly.

"Oh my... I don’t think we’ll finish all this."

A maid stepped forward to pour Claire’s drink.

Claire waited until the glass was filled before lifting it.

"Do not worry," she replied. "None of it is wasted."

She took a small sip.

"What remains is packed and delivered to local orphanages and homeless shelters."

Samantha’s expression softened.

"Oh, that’s lovely. Do you have a charity?"

Claire shook her head lightly.

"No. It is simply something I do when the occasion calls for it."

She set the glass down carefully.

"A charity demands commitment to maintaining a public image. I do not have that concern, so I simply—"

She paused.

Took another sip.

"—do it when I feel inclined."

Amanda smiled faintly.

"That’s very generous."

Summer reached for a bread roll without asking, tearing into it before Sylvia gently nudged her plate closer.

"Use your utensils," Sylvia murmured.

Summer rolled her eyes but complied.

For several minutes, the only sounds at the table were utensils against porcelain—clink~ scrk~—and the faint shifting of chairs as plates were passed along.

Steam curled upward from freshly uncovered dishes. Glasses touched down gently against polished wood—tok~

It didn’t last.

Samantha placed her fork down briefly after a few bites, eyes bright.

"Everything tastes so wonderful."

Claire dabbed the corner of her mouth with a folded napkin before responding. She had barely sipped from her glass all evening.

"The wonderful madams here have honed their skills over the years," she said evenly. "I find little reason to eat outside of my home beyond the occasional craving."

One of the maids inclined her head faintly in acknowledgment.

Sylvia glanced from Claire to Don.

"Hey, Don?" she asked, resting her fork against her plate. "I hear your school is taking part in the coming exchanges. Are you taking part?"

Don shook his head once.

"No. Just focused on training for now. But I’ll be going to watch with Charles."

Sylvia leaned back in her seat slightly, folding her hands in front of her.

"Aww. Would’ve liked to see you fight."

Her gaze lingered a second longer before she added, "Maybe we can all go and watch?"

Don didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he shifted his attention to Claire.

She set her glass down with a soft tap.

"I see no problem," she said. "Provided I don’t have anything urgent requiring my attention."

Samantha blinked once, then nodded.

"Uhm... I don’t mind."

She looked back at Don, smile warm.

"I would like to see more of what Don gets involved in."

Claire’s eyes returned to him as well, though she offered no additional commentary.

Don inclined his head slightly.

"It’s decided then."

Outwardly calm.

Inwardly—

’Oh boy. I just hope they keep getting along.’

He had learned early that being surrounded by multiple women at once often meant navigating undercurrents he would rather avoid. Disagreements. Quiet competitions. The occasional demand to pick sides.

Thankfully, aside from Summer, the table tonight appeared composed.

The conversation settled again into smaller exchanges as plates emptied steadily.

Time passed.

Sylvia was the first to slow completely.

She leaned back slightly, one hand resting against her midsection.

"I can’t eat another bite," she admitted.

Summer, who had been steadily demolishing her plate, pushed it forward moments later.

"Same."

Immediately, Sylvia turned toward Claire.

"Mom, is it alright if we take some leftovers up to the room? Since Summer is spending the night anyway."

Claire’s gaze moved toward her daughter.

"It is rude to leave the table before the guests."

Samantha raised a hand slightly.

"It’s fine, really. I don’t think I can eat anymore either."

Amanda swallowed her mouthful and gestured vaguely with her fork.

"Don’t mind me and Don."

Don set his utensils down.

"Actually, I’m at my limit too. Can’t eat too much this week."

Amanda shrugged.

"Good thing I don’t believe in diets."

A faint smile tugged at Don’s lips.

"If you don’t mind," he said, rising from his chair, "I’d like to take a walk around the gardens. Let the food digest."

Claire wiped her mouth once more and set her napkin down neatly.

"That isn’t a bad suggestion," she replied. "May I join you?"

He nodded.

"Of course."

He picked up his glass, mirroring her as she carried her wine with practiced poise.

Samantha looked between them, then back at the dessert tray that had just been uncovered—fssst~

"I’ll keep Amanda company," she said quickly. "And maybe try this dessert. It’d be a shame not to."

Amanda pointed her fork at her.

"Just say you wanna try it, Sam. No need to be shy."

Samantha’s cheeks warmed.

"That’s not what I’m—" She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Just focus on your food."

Don smiled at the exchange.

As Claire passed behind Samantha’s chair, she paused briefly.

"Please feel free to request anything you need from the madams here," she said gently.

Samantha nodded.

"Thank you."

Claire then continued toward Don.

Once she reached him, he matched her stride as they moved toward the double doors leading to the gardens.

Their steps faded gradually along the corridor—tok~ tok~

Back at the table—

Samantha watched them leave.

Her expression shifted.

Not unhappy.

Not pleased.

Something in between.

"What do you think they talk about?" she asked quietly.

Amanda shrugged, chewing lazily.

"Dunno," she replied. "Legal stuff?"

Samantha looked down at her plate.

Then toward the doorway again.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the necklace resting at her collarbone.

And she returned to her dessert.