Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 583: Not As It Seems (Part 8)

Following the night at Miss Claire’s, the days passed without much of worth going on.

Don informed Benjamin that he hadn’t found anything concrete. Told him Winter was still looking into it.

Winter wasn’t.

His focus had shifted entirely. Mornings with Redstar. Afternoons running obstacle drills until his muscles refused to cooperate. Evenings reviewing recordings of his own movement, replaying missteps frame by frame.

Bruises came and faded. Calluses thickened.

He preferred that.

It kept his head clear.

Surprisingly, the situation with the cartel, the BKB alliance, and Johnny Black hadn’t exploded the way it easily could have.

Gary’s surveillance teams reported suspicious vehicles tailing him now and then. A black sedan one day. A gray SUV the next.

They followed at a distance.

Watched.

Tested.

It never amounted to anything.

The minions would shift routes. Block intersections. Force a wrong turn here. A sudden stop there. One tail even found itself boxed between two delivery trucks at a narrow light—horns blaring—beep~ beep~—before it peeled off and never returned.

Before long, the trailing stopped altogether.

Whether that meant they were afraid or simply regrouping... remained to be seen.

Beyond that, Don had been spending more time on campus.

He occasionally bumped into Donald and Hector between classes. Tori twice near the training hall entrance. Each time, they tried to drag him into conversation. Each time, he lasted a few minutes before fatigue set in.

Training left little room for chatter.

Still, he had managed one thing.

Better seats for the university exchanges.

Hector, especially, appreciated that.

"Front angle is everything," he’d said, adjusting his phone mount as if already planning his stream layout.

As for Gary and Elle—

Their attention had been elsewhere.

Gary continued gathering information on the cartel operating within the city. Mapping affiliations. Tracking shell businesses. Following financial patterns linked to BKB and the smaller groups orbiting Johnny Black.

Elle worked just as hard.

Securing the credentials required to formally act as Don’s operator.

Given her background and the lines she had previously crossed, it wasn’t simple. But it wasn’t impossible either. She navigated paperwork, certifications, and background adjustments with patience.

She didn’t complain.

She simply worked.

—

Now, it was Monday afternoon.

The Range Rover rolled through the entrance of SHU grounds, tires humming softly against the pavement—vrrr~

Students, parents, and younger siblings filled the campus walkways. Banners hung from lamp posts announcing the inter-university exchanges.

Booths had been set up near the central lawn. Some families hurried toward the arena structures. Others lingered, taking photos near statues and signage.

Don guided the vehicle into a parking spot and eased it in cleanly.

The engine cut off—click—

For a moment, no one moved.

Summer broke it first.

She let out a long, irritated sigh from the back seat, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Argh. Couldn’t I have just stayed home? It’s not like Don’s even competing or anything."

Samantha glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Her expression carried that steady warmth she defaulted to when correcting without scolding.

"Don’t be like that, Summer. It’s important to know more about your brother’s school life. You could learn something."

Summer stared at her as if she’d just suggested something absurd.

She leaned forward slightly and pointed at Don’s shoulder from behind.

"Learn something? From him? You’re kidding, right?"

Don kept his smile in place.

"Ouch," he said lightly. "That hurt my feelings."

He opened his door and stepped out, boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

The autumn air carried faint noise from the arena ahead—crowd chatter, distant announcements over speakers.

He shut the door and adjusted his watch out of habit.

"Has Sylvia texted you where they are?" he asked, leaning slightly toward the rear window.

Doors opened around him.

Samantha stepped out carefully, smoothing her turtleneck down over her waist before closing her door. Amanda climbed out next, tugging the red flannel into place over her white vest. Summer exited last, hoodie half-zipped, expression still sour.

She checked her phone.

"Yeah," she replied, thumbs tapping briefly. "She says they’re already in the viewing area."

As she lifted her head—

She noticed another family stepping out of a sedan a few spots away.

Two teenagers. Parents. A younger kid holding a balloon.

Their focus wasn’t on the banners.

It was on Don.

One of the teens nudged the other and whispered something. The younger kid pointed openly.

A few more people nearby slowed.

Students recognized him first. That shift was always subtle. A glance. A stiffening posture. A quiet comment to their parents. One even tugged his mother’s sleeve and murmured something before guiding her in the opposite direction.

It happened quickly.

Naturally.

Samantha noticed.

Of course she did.

Her eyes moved from the students... to Don... then back again.

"Is something the matter?" she asked softly.

Summer snorted.

"Yeah. Don seems to have half the school scared."

Don exhaled through his nose, not quite amused.

He stepped around the back of the vehicle and stopped in front of Summer. Without warning, he placed his hand on top of her head and gently pressed downward.

"You talk too much," he said evenly. "Let’s go."

Summer stiffened immediately.

"Hey!! Lemme go! Grr—you’re messing up my hair!"

She swatted at his wrist while trying to duck out from under his palm. He held her in place just long enough to annoy her further before releasing her.

She immediately began fixing her hoodie and patting her hair down, glaring up at him.

"You’re so annoying," she muttered.

Amanda leaned back against the car briefly, watching the surrounding lot.

"Not scared," she said casually, eyes scanning the students. "More like... cautious."

A group of first-years walked past at a faster pace than necessary. One of them avoided eye contact entirely.

Don noticed.

He didn’t react.

His black shirt sat clean against his frame. The gold chain rested against the fabric without catching too much light. Contact lenses in place. Watch secure. Boots steady against the asphalt.

He looked composed.

Samantha stepped closer to him, lowering her voice.

"Did something happen recently?" she asked.

He glanced down at her.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

She studied him for a second longer than usual.

He met her gaze calmly.

Then he started walking toward the main path leading to the venues.

"Come on," he said. "Let’s not keep Sylvia waiting."

Summer trudged after him with exaggerated reluctance.

Amanda fell into step beside Samantha.

---

A few minutes later, elevator doors slid open with a soft chime—ding~

They stepped out onto SHU’s private viewing deck.

Below them, the main arena roared.

The stands were packed from end to end, a dense sea of color and movement. Banners draped across railings.

Large digital displays cycled through team rosters and sponsor logos. On the far side, an entire section was filled with the rival university’s colors—students waving flags, chanting in unison, their coordinated cheers rising in waves—rahh~ rahh~ rahh~

The stages had been set across the arena floor. Reinforced platforms. Barrier grids. Marked zones for different events.

The atmosphere was wild.

Don barely glanced at it.

The viewing deck itself demanded more attention.

The space was expansive, enclosed in glass that curved outward to provide a clear overlook of the arena.

Polished flooring reflected the overhead lighting. Small round tables were arranged in clusters. Along one wall stood a discreet mini bar staffed by two attendants in black vests.

Waitresses moved through the crowd carrying trays of drinks and bite-sized appetizers.

Inside were alumni dressed in tailored suits. Sponsors conversing in low voices. Invited guests with carefully curated smiles. A few board representatives stood near the center, speaking with donors.

Scattered among them were parents of Class A students—well-dressed, observant, quietly proud.

When Don and his family stepped out of the elevator—

Conversations dipped.

Not entirely.

But enough.

A waitress approached almost immediately, offering a tray filled with fluted glasses and neatly arranged snacks.

"Drinks?" she asked with a polite smile.

Amanda didn’t hesitate.

"Oh, don’t mind if I do," she said, plucking a glass and two skewered appetizers in one motion.

She took a bite before the waitress had even turned away.

"Mmm. Not bad."

Samantha hesitated, eyes scanning the tray before carefully selecting a single glass. She held it lightly by the stem, as if unsure whether she truly wanted it.

Summer kept her arms crossed.

Her gaze moved across the room—and then locked onto someone near the far end.

Sylvia.

She stood beside her mother, speaking with an older woman dressed in a structured cream blazer. Sylvia’s posture was composed, hands folded loosely in front of her as she listened.

Summer straightened immediately.

"I’m going to go to Sylvia. Later."

She didn’t wait for a response.

She slipped past a pair of guests and headed in that direction, weaving between clusters of adults with far more purpose than she had shown all afternoon.

Amanda, meanwhile, was already scanning the room with interest.

Her eyes found the mini bar.

She finished her appetizer, wiped her fingers lightly against a napkin she grabbed from a passing tray, and nodded toward it.

"I’m gonna go help myself to that mini bar over there."

Samantha turned toward both of them at once.

"Wait—this is supposed to be—"

Too late.

Summer had already reached Sylvia.

Amanda was halfway to the bar.