Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

It was the first time he'd experienced this kind of attention—the eyes of thousands fixed solely on him, chanting his name with wild enthusiasm.

He couldn't help but feel a strange thrill, the energy of the crowd filling him with a sense of pride he hadn't known before.

'This feels so surreal,'

he thought, glancing around as he slowly lowered his hand.

The cheers continued regardless, undiminished. And his smile remained steady as he took a final look at the scene, knowing that as far as his ambitions went, this was just the beginning.

But he knew he'd remember this moment, the sight of the crowd, the electric atmosphere, all of it.

High above the field, Dr. Gadget had received another series of messages. He read through them swiftly, his expression briefly changing before he cleared his throat and spoke into the hovering mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to the condition of the field," he announced, his voice resonating across the stadium, "the main event has been canceled and will take place later this week. Closing remarks will be delivered by the Dean via broadcast, and you can look forward to highlights and interviews beginning in a few minutes. Thank you."

After his announcement, he added a few closing words of motivation for the candidates before hovering back and away from the field.

The commentators also gave their closing remarks as they signed off, reminding the audience to stay tuned for upcoming segments.

As the speakers quieted, Don turned to rejoin the other candidates.

At the edge of the field, Starboy's angry gaze was still fixed on Don, his expression dark. The sight of Don basking in the spotlight had clearly soured his mood, and he spun on his heel, cape whipping behind him as he moved toward the exit.

Silverwing watched Starboy's dramatic departure with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as he called out, "Not even a 'congratulations,' Starboy?"

Starboy said nothing as he continued walking without glancing back.

Silverwing chuckled quietly to himself as he returned his gaze toward Don. "He's not exactly the gracious type, is he?" he muttered to himself with a charming smile, shaking his head.

Phantomstrike was the next to leave, giving Don a single, lingering look before turning away without a word.

Frostbite, too, followed, though unlike the others, she continued watching Don even as she turned, her gaze cold and unreadable. Only when she had taken a few steps did she finally look away, her face expressionless.

By the time Don approached the exit, he found only Silverwing waiting for him, clapping as he approached. "Well done," Silverwing praised smoothly, his hands coming together in polite applause. "A true show of strength and skill. Quite the demonstration."

"Thanks," Don replied, offering a brief nod as he continued toward the tunnel. He wasn't about to get caught up in the theatrics of Silverwing's praise.

But Silverwing, unfazed, fell into step beside him, matching his pace. "I don't believe we've had the chance to formally introduce ourselves." He extended his hand to Don. "Charles Monclaire IV," he said, giving a small, almost regal inclination of his head.

Hearing the name, Don raised an eyebrow.

'Monclaire IV?'

he thought, sizing him up with a sideways glance.

'Wouldn't be surprised if he's royalty or something.'

On the surface, though, Don kept it simple, shaking the offered hand and saying, "Don Bright."

The two continued walking down the tunnel together, Silverwing keeping his stride easy and his expression friendly, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes as he glanced at Don. "Well, Don Bright," he said with a slight smile, "impressive performance today. You've got quite the talent. I hope we'll have the chance to spar sometime."

"Sure," Don replied noncommittally, noting Silverwing's persistent interest as they walked. He wasn't sure what to make of the guy, but he kept his own expression neutral as they approached a fork in the tunnel, one side leading to the private changing areas reserved for higher-ranking candidates.

Silverwing stopped, a look of faint surprise crossing his face as he turned to Don. "Oh? You're changing here?" he asked, glancing toward the common locker area.

"I assumed you'd have a private room like the rest of us." His tone was pleasant, but there was a trace of surprise, maybe even curiosity, as he sized Don up once again.

Don just shrugged. "No private room for me," he replied, continuing toward the common changing area. "See you around."

"Well, then," Silverwing replied, that same charming smile still in place. "I'll be taking my leave here. But let's talk again soon. I'll have my people reach out to yours." He gave a small wave as he took a step back, adding with a slight flourish, "Tata."

Don gave a small nod. "Sure," he replied, watching Silverwing disappear down the other tunnel before he turned back toward the changing area.

As he made his way forward, he couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh.

'Better get changed and go find Miss Claire.'

With that thought in mind, he quickly made his way into the changing area—a spacious, tiled room with rows of lockers and benches lined neatly along the walls.

The showers in the back were enclosed with frosted glass, and a faint, clean scent of disinfectant lingered in the air. The room was empty, giving Don a rare moment of quiet after the noise and excitement of the stadium.

He slipped out of his training suit and quickly took a shower. After drying off, he changed into his regular clothes, fastening his belt and adjusting his shirt when a sound caught his attention.

His ears picked up a faint yet frantic buzz from beyond the door—voices, hurried and overlapping, echoing down the hall.

"Mr. Bright, how did it feel to face Apex?"

"Was the fight as intense as it looked from the stands?"

"Are you worried about the rumors of tensions between you and Starboy?"

"What's next for you after today?"

The tone and the type of questions left no room for doubt: reporters.

Don could almost hear the shuffling of their recording devices and see the eager faces pressed up against the door. With the way they were calling out questions, it seemed that his performance against Apex had really boosted his image.

He shook his head, slightly amused. 'This part of being a hero is going to be a pain in the ass,' he thought, slipping his shoes on and glancing toward the door.

But he had no doubt there were perks to the attention, perks that would probably come in handy one day.

Ready, Don walked to the door and pulled it open.