Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

The room shifted toward the TV—, chairs easing back, Summer's bait-hand going still under the sideboard. On-screen wasn't the usual morning noise. No chummy anchor. No bubbly theme.

A gray table dominated the frame—steel lines, edges clean. Behind it, three vertical screens glowed with the UPSDF insignia.

A single woman sat centered—blonde hair swept into a bun, glasses neat on the bridge of her nose, worksuit buttoned to the collar. She didn't smile. When she spoke, her voice came out clear, measured and trained.

"Good morning, people of the United Provinces," she said. "We interrupt your programs to announce a National Strategic Readiness Advisory—Tier Gray."

The woman continued, eyes not leaving the lens. "Effective immediately, the United Provinces Superhuman Defense Force will initiate a nationwide recruitment program for young citizens and legal residents aged fifteen to twenty-four—subject to special cases."

She glanced once at a page, then back up. "We are not at war. But we are in danger."

She didn't elaborate on that line. She didn't need to. She moved on.

"This program is non-mandatory and ability-agnostic. Your participation does not depend on superhuman class. Its purpose is to identify, prepare, and standardize baseline readiness among the younger superhuman population in anticipation of worst-case scenarios—stemming from current global instability and classified factors."

At the sideboard, pink fur flashed. The cat sprinted back across the tile and circled Don's ankle once before settling against his foot like a tiny heater. Summer, halfway under the cabinet with bacon in one hand, pushed hair behind her ear and stood, drifting to the back of a chair to watch.

"Structure," the woman said crisply. "Applicants will submit to their regional UPSDF liaison. Initial committee selection will take up to six months. Those advanced will then enter a four-month individual vetting phase. During both periods, prospects are expected to maintain training independently—physical standards, ability discipline, and civic coursework. Guidance will be provided."

She tapped the table once with a capped pen before going on.

"Upon selection, recruits will report for eight weeks of basic training. This is designed to evaluate capacity, discipline, and adaptability. Results will determine eligibility for specific UPSDF routes—response, logistics, research support, or early talent pools. Recruits may elect to end their participation after basic training if they choose not to proceed."

Her delivery never wavered. "Oversight. The UPSDF will coordinate with public and private institutions to monitor prospective progress—grades, physical benchmarks, and standardized ability audits. Institutions will be issued compliance guidance within seventy-two hours."

A small strip of text rolled under her image—hotlines, a web portal, a list of regional offices. She kept talking. "Data handling will conform to the Youth Development Act. Guardian consent will be required for minors. Special cases under fifteen will be adjudicated individually with additional oversight. Stipends, housing support, and education credits are available for those who qualify."

She paused, only long enough to let the copy catch up. "We will release further briefings over the coming weeks. Again. Thank you."

The insignia filled the screen as the feed cycled to a slate. A low note hummed in the speakers. bmmm~

Amanda scoffed, arms tightening. "What are they planning now?"

"Every day we're closer to becoming a republic," Samantha said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Winter turned and began clearing plates again as she added. "There has been increasing interference by governments in young superhuman development," she said, tone unchanged. "More nations are training younger populations earlier. The administration may be concerned about a preparedness gap in the event of mass superhuman conflict. This is the case for the two Korean states."

"Maybe," Amanda said with a shrug. "Still feels fishy."

"At least it isn't mandatory," Samantha muttered.

Summer snorted. "Yeah, or else the government would've been here in no time looking for Don."

Amanda tilted her head, mouth quirking. "Maybe he's interested in joining."

Don didn't answer right away. He lifted his mug instead. The cat pressed closer against his ankle. He noticed the look both women shared—small, tight, there and gone. 'They don't like this.'

Samantha glanced at her watch—and blanched. "Oh no, I'm going to be late." She grabbed her bag from the chair, already stepping toward the hall.

Don shifted to say something—when his pocket buzzed. bzz~

He fished out his phone. A new message slid across the screen.

Charles: Are you free to talk?

———

The broadcast droned on.

A lot of words meant to calm people who wouldn't be calmed.

Amanda lasted two more minutes before she pushed back from the table. "I'm bored. Summer, let's get back to training."

Summer weighed the cat hunt against lung burn. The cat yawned and vanished under the buffet again the moment she peeped down. "Fine," she muttered, then pointed at Don. "We're not done about the cat."

"Tragic," Don said, shrugging.

They disappeared down the hall—bare feet smacking tile, Summer complaining about warm-ups she'd invented herself.

Don also headed for his room.

Trixie padded in as pink fluff and then—pff~—rose in a coil of smoke into her usual body, wearing a tight white leotard. Bare legs. Tail swishing wildly.

He had already stripped his vest and shirt, tossing them onto the bed. He didn't even glance her way—crossed to the wardrobe and pulled it open.

"Phew," she said, planting a hand on her hip, "your sister nearly killed me with her killer tits. What gives?"

She flickered—pff~—reappearing beside him as he slid hangers aside. Navy tee found, folded, pulled on in one motion.

She leaned in, cheek to his ribs, smirk upturned. "Though I don't mind the occasional death squeeze if it gets me this view."

Her tongue peeked out, already headed for skin.

However, before she could make contact, the air hushed around her head. Don didn't touch her. He didn't need to. Invisible pressure from his telekinesis stopped the motion.

"Hey!!" Trixie glared upward, tail lashing.

"Behave," he said. "Not the time."

The hold eased. She crossed her arms and pouted for sport. "Argh, finnnne. And here I thought you'd introduce me with a big ole family orgy."

Don paused, one brow inching up. "What goes through that kinky mind of yours?"

She brightened. "Heh. You really wanna know?"

"On second thought, I'll pass."

He stepped into plain black jeans, buttoned them, and flicked a glance at the shoe rack, activating his telekinesis once more. Brown boots drifted up and slid toward his feet.

"Can you at least take me with you?" she said, tail curling into a question mark. "I like a big pair of soft tits as much as the next succubus, but I'll die if you leave me here with her."

"Stop exaggerating. She's harmless." He fastened his watch, then reached for his aviators. "I need to see Charles. After that, check how my strip club—" he corrected himself, "—gentleman's club is doing."

Trixie's eyes lit. Tail went full metronome. "Tell me more about this club. I saw files on the base terminals but I was too lazy to read."

"You'll see it yourself." He slid the glasses into place, pocketed his phone, and headed for the door.

Trixie watched him for a moment, hands on hips, smile doing something feral. "Heh," she said under her breath, "today will be fun."

She blurred—pff~—back into cotton-candy cat, collar snapping into being with a neat click, and trotted after him.

They found Winter already waiting by the exit—hands folded at the small of her back like a courtesy bell had rung in her skull. "You have two additional emails of importance," she said. "From Mr. Xiao and Miss Claire."

Trixie smirked at his, the expression odd on an animal. Winter's right eye shifted down to acknowledge it.

"Welcome to the household, Madam Trixie," she added, tone unchanged. "Feel free to inquire for assistance if you require help assimilating into your feline form while residing here."

Don sighed, thumb already unlocking his phone. He toggled Wi-Fi. tap~ He preferred the world quiet. Winter kept it curated anyway. When the notifications stacked up, he skimmed.

A note from Xiao. One from Claire. Charles's message still open. He thumbed out quick replies.

Trixie—pink paws light on the hallway runner—tilted her head toward Winter. She checked left and right, then murmured just loud enough, "Will do."

"You're coming with us, Winter" Don said, eyes still on the screen.

"Of course," Winter replied, already turning to make an exit.