Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Dirt and blood stained his horror stricken face, yet his eyes were perhaps the most chilling sight: vines writhed within the now empty, bloody, sockets, burrowing deeper with each twist and twitch. A truly unsettling sight.

A putrid stench also wafted from him, thick with the scent of decay and fecal matter, all mingling with the sharp odor of fresh blood.

Flies and insects swarmed over his trembling body, drawn by the same foul aroma. His lips, now cracked and gray, tried to form words, though they barely escaped his mangled mouth.

"P-pl…pleszh…" he stammered, each syllable slurred and broken, his body giving the slightest jerk as his bloodied hands trembled, fingers twitching in agony. But no amount of pleading could halt what had begun. And even if it could, it was clearly too late.

From the edge of the clearing, Sister Rose watched him with a dispassionate gaze, her naked body glistening faintly under the moon's pale light.

She looked otherworldly—beautiful in a wild, savage way, her face cold and set into a deep frown. She took in the sight with detached disdain, her expression showing no pity or remorse.

With a quiet, almost disgusted exhale, she muttered, "Finish him and find me another one. One of them will have the information I want."

Without a backward glance, she turned, her naked figure vanishing into the dense trees with the quiet rustle of leaves. As she disappeared into the darkness, a low growl sounded from somewhere unseen.

It slowly grew louder, accompanied by a ragged scream and then followed by the sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching.

———

Back at the Brights' residence, Don lay sprawled on his bed, earbuds in as he worked through a **Psychological Resilience Training** session.

But something shifted all of a sudden.

His eyes snapped open, and he jerked up abruptly, so hard that the earbuds fell loose, dropping onto the bed. He barely registered their absence as he crawled off the bed, stumbling to the corner of his room, where he bent over and began to vomit.

**Blergh~**

His hand braced against the wall as he steadied himself through wave after wave of puking, heaving until only empty, painful retches were left.

He wiped his mouth with his forearm, muttering, "That was fucking nasty."

Images from the session lingered, sharp and vivid in his mind. He had found himself in the body of a young child, trapped in a dark, filthy basement.

Malnourished, bruised, and amputated children surrounded him, some silent, some crying, but all suffering. Strange, cold BDSM like devices littered the room, along with tools and blunt weapons, all in the hands of a deranged couple who reveled in the horrors they inflicted.

His mind was still recovering the rawness of it, as if the session had reached deep into the corners of his subconscious, dredging up nightmares he hadn't thought possible.

Don forced himself to straighten, shaking his head slowly.

'Just how does one get to such a point that they can carry out such messed-up things?'

He could feel his mental strength growing with every session, his resilience hardening, but it came at a cost—images and sensations that would likely cling to him forever.

He checked his watch, noting the time with a sigh.

'Still had fifteen minutes to go too,'

he thought, uncertain if he could stomach returning to that dark place right now. His mind teetered between pushing forward and giving himself a break when a light knock sounded at his door.

**Knock, knock.**

He shook his head one last time, letting out a slow sigh before heading over. As he opened the door, he found Winter standing there, her hands clasped lightly behind her back, her expression calm and composed as usual.

"Greetings Don, I hope I didn't wake you," she said softly. "I just came to inform you that your presence is requested downstairs."

Don ran a hand over his face, straightening himself before nodding. "No worries. I was awake," he replied, his voice a bit hoarse.

Don then raised a curious brow at Winter, his tone light but inquisitive. "What exactly do they need me for?"

Winter gave a small nod as she answered. "Ms. Claire and Sylvia are about to leave. It might have to do with that."

Don nodded thoughtfully. "I see," he replied, stepping out of his room and leaving the door slightly ajar. He paused just outside and glanced back at her. "By the way, can you clean up my room for me?"

Winter's face showed a brief look of acknowledgment, and she inclined her head. "Of course, Don," she replied. "I shall go fetch supplies now and start right away."

"Thanks," Don said, offering a quick smile before turning down the hallway.

He made a short detour to the bathroom, flipping on the faucet to rinse his mouth. He swished the water around, clearing the lingering taste of nausea, then straightened, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. He took a quick breath and then headed downstairs.

In the entryway, he found Samantha, Ms. Claire, and Sylvia gathered near the door, engaged in farewells.

Samantha noticed him first, her face lighting up as she called out, "Hey, honey! Ms. Claire and Sylvia are about to leave—I thought you'd want to say goodbye."

Ms. Claire turned toward him with a polite smile. "It's quite alright," she said smoothly, then added, "I hope we didn't interrupt anything important."

Don moved to stand beside Samantha, shrugging nonchalantly. "Not really," he replied. "I was just doing some light reading."

Ms. Claire gave a thoughtful nod, while Sylvia perked up with a smile. "What book were you reading?" she asked, her curiosity clear.

But before he could answer, Ms. Claire shot Sylvia a mild look, gently reminding her, "Now is not the time to make new conversation, dear. We should really get going." She added, almost as an afterthought, "And don't forget, you still have school tomorrow."

Sylvia let out a dramatic sigh, her shoulders slumping in exaggerated despair. "Don't remind me," she mumbled, offering Don an unenthusiastic wave. "Well… have a good night." She then turned to Samantha, brightening a bit. "Thanks for having us, Mrs. Bright. The food was delicious as always."

Samantha chuckled warmly. "You're always welcome, sweetheart. And the credit for the food goes to Winter."

Sylvia's face brightened further. "Right, tell her I said she's awesome!"

Ms. Claire joined in with a gracious nod. "Indeed. Thank you for the food, the wine, and the delightful conversation," she said to Samantha, then turned to Don, adding, "And congratulations again. Get a good night's rest—you'll need it for the busy day ahead."

Don blinked, momentarily puzzled. "Busy day?" he repeated. "What exactly am I going to be busy with?"

Ms. Claire's smile turned almost amused as she replied, "Being a rising star, of course." She gave a nod and added, "Have a lovely night," before she reached for the door handle.

Samantha moved to hold the door open, watching as Ms. Claire and Sylvia stepped out.

Sylvia, clearly in no hurry, dragged her feet, her arms crossed in reluctant resignation. Samantha gave her a warm smile and a hearty wave, watching until they disappeared down the driveway.

She then closed the door, leaning against it for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I'm so glad that went well."

Don grinned, tilting his head. "Were you worried Aunt Amanda might ruin the evening with one of her crazy stories?"

Samantha placed a hand over her chest, her face showing terror at the mere thought of it. "Well, it's a good thing she didn't have anything to drink," she said, giving an exaggerated sigh of relief.

She then placed her hands on her hips, her gaze softening as she turned to Don. "Now then," she said with a smile, "let's go give those muscles of yours a good massage. I need to get to sleep soon myself."