Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Don pushed the driver's side door shut with a muted **thunk**, the sound barely echoing in the huge expanse of the underground garage.

His gaze swept across the towering gray walls and metallic scaffolding stretching toward the high ceiling like steel ribs. The dim overhead lights cast a sterile, almost surgical glow across the expanse, intensifying the base's secretive, military-grade aura.

He adjusted his collar with a flick and walked forward, his boots **clicking** steadily against the cold, reinforced flooring.

As he neared the far end of the space, his eyes tracked the armored vehicles arranged in combat-ready rows—armored SUVs, tactical trucks, and rugged motorcycles—all bristling with modifications meant for function, not flash.

Yet Don's head never turned, his attention locked forward, every glance calculated.

Gary waited near the doors, standing with perfect poise, his hands still folded neatly behind his back.

As Don approached, Gary inclined his head in a respectful nod, his refined voice cutting through the mechanical stillness.

"Welcome, sir. I trust the journey here wasn't too inconvenient?"

Don allowed a faint smirk to appear at the corner of his mouth. "Not at all. The entrance mechanism was... impressive."

Gary's lips twitched in agreement. "Indeed. For a base of its age, its mechanisms remain exceptional." His eyes wandered the vaulted ceiling with a wistful gleam. "Ah… how good it feels to be in a naturally aspirated base. None of that soulless allure and modern decor—"

He stopped himself abruptly, exhaling a deep breath before offering a polite bow. "Forgive me. I'm rambling like the old fossil I am."

Don caught the nearly imperceptible quickening of Gary's pulse, a tell only someone with Don's heightened senses could detect. Though Gary's exterior remained flawlessly composed, that slip revealed something deeper—a lingering attachment, perhaps even nostalgia.

Amused but careful not to overplay it, Don nodded thoughtfully, stepping closer until he stood beside Gary, mirroring his contemplative gaze at the vast facility.

"You're not wrong," Don said slowly, his voice level but firm. "I had... immature notions about what power should look like—flashy bases, over-the-top displays." He let his words settle, tone sharpening. "Now, I prefer doing things the right way. This place... it's a step in that direction."

Gary's breath hitched subtly, emotion flickering behind his eyes. Don immediately saw a system prompt as a result.

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Don suppressed the urge to react, knowing well enough that sincerity worked best in moderation. He folded his arms loosely across his chest, allowing the silence to stretch just long enough.

"You are most right, sir," Gary replied with renewed conviction. "I have fully toured the facility, and I assure you—it's worth every credit. The young madam will show you the finer details herself."

As if on cue, the massive steel doors behind Gary **groaned** as hydraulic systems engaged, dragging them apart with slow, grinding efficiency. Beyond lay a dimly lit corridor of reinforced metal, its walls lined with recessed lights casting sharp, angled shadows.

Gary took a step forward but hesitated, tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into something far more reserved.

"Sir..." His voice lowered, colored with a rare hint of concern. "As you proceed... might I have a word about the young madam's... condition?"

His gaze flickered—not out of fear, but out of something much harder to define.

Don's brow lifted slightly. "Her condition?" he repeated, keeping his tone measured. "Are you referring to what happened with her before?"

Gary nodded gravely, his polished demeanor giving way to something far more serious. He gestured toward the tunnel-like hallway ahead.

"Follow me, sir."

Don fell in step beside him, their **footsteps** resonating softly against the metallic floor. The dim amber glow of wall-mounted lights traced harsh lines along the cold steel walls, giving the corridor a grim ambiance.

"Yes," Gary began, voice steady but weighted. "I'm referring to many incidents... and the belief the young madam holds—that your departure was because of her. Did you not suspect her change in behavior?"

Don glanced sideways, keeping his expression unreadable despite the unease clawing at his chest. He had no memory of such an event, he wasn't the old Don, but showing uncertainty now would only invite suspicion.

"She… thought that?" he ventured. "I assumed she had just... changed willfully. Until that night in her bedroom."

Gary's steps slowed for the briefest moment, his gaze flicking toward Don with something close to relief—no hint of suspicion in his eyes. "I wish it were that simple," Gary admitted, exhaling slowly. "But I'm afraid that side of her can't be repressed… not for long."

'That side?' Don kept his stride steady, masking the growing unease in his chest. He'd suspected Elle's other side was dangerous, but hearing it framed so gravely unsettled him. He was walking blind through a minefield of half-truths.

Gary continued, his voice dropping into something reflective. "A few months after you left… she found a way to isolate that side of herself—split it off entirely." His eyes darkened with distant recollection. "I still don't understand how she managed it… and at the time, I believed she was finally at peace." He shook his head slowly. "But I was wrong."

The metallic corridor stretched endlessly before them, their **footsteps** the only sound in the vast, echoing silence. Don's gaze remained locked ahead, though his thoughts spiraled inward.

'Split herself…?' That couldn't be literal—could it? He'd seen stranger things, but something about Gary's tone hinted at something far more personal… and dangerous.

His mind combed through every interaction he'd had with Elle. He'd assumed her unpredictability was something he could handle—manageable, at worst. But if this was something deeper, something fundamental...

Don inhaled slowly, forcing himself back into the present. Whatever this was, he couldn't afford to seem uncertain. He settled on the only course of action he trusted—leaning on Gary's experience.

"You've been with her through all of this," Don said carefully. "What do you think is the best way to handle it?"

Gary's steps faltered, slowing until they came to a halt beneath a dim golden light embedded into the wall. His expression tightened—his usual mask of calm cracking just enough to reveal genuine conflict.

"I believe... the only way forward may be for you to speak with her." His voice softened but remained firm. "Tell her to stop suppressing herself—her whole self." His eyes met Don's steadily, though uncertainty lingered in their depths. "That is… if such a thing is even still possible."

Don studied Gary closely, noting the sincerity etched into every word. This wasn't a calculated suggestion—it was something Gary truly feared.

But Don couldn't ignore the risk. If Elle's suppressed side was as volatile as it seemed, unleashing it might not heal anything—it might make her even more unpredictable... maybe even uncontrollable.

After weighing those grim possibilities, Don nodded slowly. "I think you're right." His tone remained firm, resolved despite the uncertainty gnawing at his gut. "I'll talk to her when the time feels right."

Gary's shoulders eased, relief softening the edges of his expression. "Thank you, sir," he said sincerely, bowing his head just slightly. "It truly puts my heart at ease… knowing you care for the young madam's well-being as much as she cares for yours."

Don held his gaze, offering a faint, reassuring smile—though in his mind, the same burning question remained.

'What happens... when the whole Elle finally emerges?'