Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

The walk back to the base's entrance hall was quiet, the only sounds echoing faintly were the soft clicks of Don's boots and Elle's lighter steps as they moved side by side.

Don kept his posture relaxed, though his eyes occasionally flicked to Elle in the corner of his vision. She seemed calm, with just the faintest edge of nervous energy lingering around her.

No sudden changes, no reason for alarm.

Don's thoughts circled back to the gnawing uncertainty about her recent transformation. 'Maybe I'm overthinking this,' he considered, his fingers brushing absently against the edge of his jacket pocket.

But the worry refused to fully dissipate, resting somewhere just out of reach—quiet but insistent.

As they neared the towering double doors leading to the base's main entrance, Don inhaled deeply, shaking the thoughts free.

The doors opened with a soft **whirr**, revealing the vast garage-turned-entrance hall beyond. The lighting reflected off rows of reinforced vehicles and the polished floor. Don's car stood in the distance, surrounded by movement.

It took him a moment to register the scene. A pair of robotic arms, mounted on wheeled platforms, hovered around the car, their articulated appendages working with directed precision. Minions—those tireless, faceless assistants—scurried nearby, adjusting tools and monitoring progress.

The once-noticeable bullet holes had vanished, replaced by a smooth, freshly polished finish. The back windshield gleamed under the bright overhead lights, a flawless replacement.

Don came to a halt on the entrance hall platform, his brow lifting slightly in surprise. Elle, still walking, stopped a step ahead and glanced back. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the faintest flush colored her cheeks first.

"Oh… I thought they'd be done by now," she said softly, her voice carrying a pinch of regret. "Sorry."

Don tilted his head, offering a faint smile. "No worries. If I'd known they were working on the car, we could've spent more time inside."

Elle's flush deepened as she shifted her weight slightly, looking at the scene again. "Oh… uh, when I asked to do this, I thought it would make a nice surprise." She glanced at Don nervously before continuing, "Gary mentioned you wanted to get this fixed… without your mom finding out."

Her explanation stayed in the air for a moment, and Don felt a flicker of gratitude. He closed the already narrow space between them, slipping an arm around her waist. His hand traced the seamless material of her tight bodysuit, his fingers skimming lightly over the curve of her hip.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice warm. "This saves me a lot of trouble."

Elle leaned into him instinctively, her body relaxing under his touch. Her gaze stayed fixed on the car as she muttered, "No problem."

The robotic arms began to retract, their tasks complete, and the minions moved away, gathering tools and heading toward another vehicle. Don noticed this but kept his focus on Elle.

She hesitated, her body tensing slightly as if she wanted to say more. Don's hand moved in a slow, careful motion along her side, his touch firm yet reassuring. "So," he started, his tone calculated, "because of the situation with the Unidentified Entities, I might not be able to come here as much as I thought."

Elle leaned closer, almost pressing into him as if to stop him from pulling away. Her voice then dropped, sounding a little… darker. "I know. Don't worry… I'm already working on a solution."

Her tone shifted at the end, lower and sharper, the faintest touch of malice threading through her words. "They'll regret it."

Don caught the edge in her voice but dismissed it quickly.

The minions finished packing up and moved farther away, leaving Don's car pristine. Seeing this, Don eased back, loosening his hold around Elle's waist. She hesitated, her hand brushing against his side, reluctant to let him go.

As he took a step back, Elle reached out, her fingers catching his arm. "Wait…"

Her voice was soft, almost unsure. Don turned back to face her, his expression calm and inviting. "Is something wrong?"

Elle's hand slipped away, and she clasped her fingers together in front of her, fidgeting slightly. Her nervousness was more pronounced now, her cheeks full with color.

"Do you… do you really like me better like this?"

Don understood her concern immediately. The subtle shifts in her demeanor, the moments of hesitance—they all pointed back to her uncertainty about her transformation. He stepped closer again, reaching out to cradle her cheek gently.

"Of course," he admitted. "I missed the real you, and I'm grateful to have you back. When all of this is behind us, we'll have more time together."

Elle's expression softened, and she leaned into his touch. A faint smile curved her lips as she raised her hand to cover his, her fingers delicate against his skin.

"Okay," she murmured, her voice low and filled with relief.

Don held her cheek a moment longer, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. Elle's smile remained faint, almost fragile, as if she were holding onto it for dear life.

When Don finally pulled his hand away, her expression faltered, the corners of her mouth falling ever so slightly.

He hesitated. A part of him wondered if a kiss—something more passionate—would lift her spirits. It wouldn't have been unwelcome; Elle's devotion to him was as clear as the warmth in her gaze. But the thought brought an unease he couldn't shake.

'It wouldn't be fair,' he thought.

Elle's feelings were unbalanced—entirely tilted toward him—and more often than not, Don questioned if he was unintentionally taking advantage of her loyalty. He wasn't perfect, but using someone like Elle, someone who mattered, wasn't a line he wanted to cross.

Instead, Don leaned forward, his movements slow. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, lingering for just a second.

Elle's reaction was instantaneous. A deep blush painted her cheeks as her wide eyes fluttered closed. Even without looking, Don's heightened senses picked up the sharp rise in her heart rate.

It beat like a drum against her chest, but her outward response was restrained compared to her previous self—the more impulsive, unfiltered Elle that her "split" had created.
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Don straightened, his lips curving faintly into a smile. She liked it; that much was clear. And that was enough.

The moment passed quickly, and Don pulled away fully, stepping back onto the dull platform.

Elle remained where she stood, her flushed face slightly angled downward as her fingers brushed the material of her bodysuit. When she finally looked up, Don had already started descending the platform.

His boots **thudded** against the narrow stairs, the sound echoing faintly in the huge garage/entrance. As he walked across the expansive parking area, he glanced back once.

Elle stood motionless, her soft smile still visible, though now touched with a slight melancholy.

Don turned his attention forward and continued toward his car.

It stood out even among the high-tech vehicles and military-grade equipment around it. Its classic lines and deep green paint gleamed, reflecting the white lighting of the garage.

Don slowed as he approached, his eyes roaming over its body.

The minions had outdone themselves.

Not only had they repaired the damage—patching up bullet holes and replacing the shattered rear windshield—but they'd also cleaned and polished every inch of the car. The glossy finish was immaculate, free of smudges or imperfections.

The chrome trim gleamed brightly, and even the tires looked fresh, their rubber shining with a dark sheen.

Don ran a hand along the hood, his fingers tracing the smooth, cool surface. He smirked faintly, appreciating the unexpected touch of care.

Reaching the driver's side, he stopped.

The door handle felt different under his palm. He frowned, his mind catching on a stray thought.

'Wait… didn't I lock this?'

The memory lingered briefly, but he shook it off with a subtle shrug. The minions must've unlocked it while working on the car. It wasn't worth dwelling on.

He slid into the driver's seat, the worn leather creaking faintly under his weight. The interior smelled faintly of polish and metal, a clean scent that matched the car's appearance.

Don reached for the ignition, turning the key. The Mustang roared to life with a deep **vroom**, the sound reverberating through the large space. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the engine's steady rumble before shifting into gear.

The car rolled forward smoothly, its tires hissing against the polished floor. As Don navigated toward the tunnel's entrance, his mind wandered briefly back to Elle. The image of her faint smile lingered.

As the Mustang entered the tunnel, the sound of its engine grew louder in the enclosed space. The walls around him were a blur of stone and strange metal, illuminated by the flashing of LED lights embedded in the floor.

**Rumble** **Vroom**

Don kept his grip steady on the wheel, the car's power humming under his control. The way out felt longer than the way in, but he didn't mind. The tunnel gave him a chance to think, to sift through the quiet doubts and scattered thoughts that had followed him since the meeting with Elle.