Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Inside, another scene was took place.

Madam Lily stood near the main stage. Her smile was on, painted and precise as usual, but it stopped before it reached anything like warmth.

Ash lingered a step behind her, arms crossed, frown set. A small knot of staff hovered at the edge—heels planted, shoulders tight, eyes forward.

Their attention fixed on the man seated in front of the stage.

Long black hair fell over his brow. A cigarette burned slow between his fingers, ash lengthening.

Tattoos crept from his collar up the side of his neck and under a weathered leather jacket. Blue denim. Heavy boots. A lighter snapped idly open and shut in his free hand. chk—shk~ chk—shk~ He looked bored. He also looked like he owned the moment.

To his right, the woman didn't look bored at all. Angled posture, green eyes cool under long brown hair. Muscle drew clean lines along her arms where the sleeveless vest left them bare, the fitted jacket open over it.

Leather pants traced her shape. Boots sat on the floor. When she shifted, a small silver ring at her navel caught the low spill from the stage lights. Her mouth didn't move from its line.

They didn't raise their voices. They didn't need to. The room shaped itself around where they sat.

Madam Lily tugged at the sleeves of her custom kimono—deep crimson silk, gold thread curling dragons along her arms and waist.

The cut split high at the legs, framing long stockings and heels; the front dipped low, pinned by a wide black sash that cinched her in and dared anyone to mistake it for fragility. She adjusted the sleeve like a ritual, then inclined her head, posture formal in defiance of the outfit's intent.

Her voice matched the polish. "Johnny, please. I've already sent you reimbursement for your stake in the business. I'm sorry, but this is where we cut ties. A lot has happened and—"

He scoffed and leaned forward.

His hand didn't go for her. It went for the low round table—lifted a glass not to drink, but to tip. Amber slid over the rim and fell in a clean sheet.

sshh—

The liquor ran through Lily's hair, traced her cheek, and threaded down her collarbone into silk folds. Gasps hit from the girls by the rail; one covered her mouth.

The woman seated at Johnny's right let a faint smirk show, green eyes narrowing like she was enjoying it.

Johnny exhaled a long sigh through his teeth and took a slow drag. Smoke banded upward. "You disappoint me, Madam Lily. You know better than anyone… you don't just walk away from our business. A lot of clients depend on your services. And don't forget our plans to expand."

His grin pulled wider as he let his gaze drift over the anxious workers. "I know plenty of lonely men willing to pay top dollar for some trained sluts. In your own words… we'll be rich." He thumbed the lighter again. chk—shk~

The flame touched the cigarette; he sank back, eyes glinting through the haze. "So tell me, what's changed? Aside from this mysterious new owner you refuse to share."

Lily raised her head. Drops still tracked her jawline and the line below her throat. Her face didn't crack. She answered evenly. "The new owner isn't someone who will be willing to take part in—"

Johnny cut her off with a hand slice, voice hard. "I'll be the judge of that. So either you call him… or I make a mess of this place."

Ash's arms tightened across her chest. Bad math stacked fast: trashed stage, frightened staff, word spreading.

Her mind flicked where she didn't want it to—white eyes opening in dark, the way breath had stuck in her throat that night. A chill crawled her skin.

Before anyone else could speak, a new voice rolled through the room—low, steady, impossible to ignore.

"No need," Don said. "I'm already here."

Every head turned.

Don stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, Winter at his side with Trixie tucked neat in her arms. The stage lights washed him in a low band of white as if the room had been waiting for a cue.

Lily's eyes flicked with something human before the mask slid back on. Ash grinned outright. The workers drew a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding, shoulders loosening by degrees.

Johnny kept his smirk through one heartbeat. Then recognition hit. It slipped off his face like sweat. His eyes narrowed. The thought wrote itself across his expression before he buried it. 'Fuck.'

He cut a glance right. The woman beside him didn't pretend. Her spine went rigid, a faint crease touching her brow as she stared at the door.

"Let me handle this, Val," Johnny muttered, jaw tight.

She didn't answer. She didn't look away either.

Don lifted a brow. That was all. The room recalibrated around him.

Trixie wriggled free with a small twist and hopped down. Tail flicking, she trotted straight for a pole at stage left and put a paw to it.

Winter folded her hands at her front. "Do you need information on these individuals?" she asked, voice even. "Current circumstances suggest they weren't here with good intentions."

"No need," Don said. "I already know them. Valerie Kross. Johnny Black."

"I see." Winter dipped her chin, then raised her tone by an inch. The neutrality cut cleaner than a shout. Across the room, Johnny swallowed. You could hear it.

He forced a laugh that didn't reach his eyes and pushed to his feet, smoothing his jacket like fabric could fix the situation. "I think there's a misunderstanding here," he said, a crooked smile dragged into service.

He stepped forward, words tumbling. "We were just wrapping up some old business with a friend, but we're done now." He gestured vaguely toward Valerie. "We were just about to leave."

He angled to slip past.

Don didn't move.

Something invisible caught Johnny mid-stride. His shoulders jerked. Boots scraped and went nowhere.

Telekinesis.

Don sighed, gaze dropping to where Johnny had stalled. "Who said you could leave?"

Johnny's eyes went wide. He strained against nothing, breath hitching. Valerie stopped dead and snapped a look at him, alarm finally breaking through her composure.

"This is just a misunder—"

He didn't finish.

Don stepped in and drove a fist into Johnny's gut.

THUD—whumpf~

Air left Johnny like a punctured tire. He folded around the hit and slid—skidding across the polished floor, tumbling past Valerie's knee before landing in a loose sprawl. His coughs came raw, wet at the edges.

The room locked in place with him.

Valerie's eyes widened, fear and disbelief crashing into each other. The workers just stared, not a peep among them.

Lily didn't move. Winter stood where she was, expression blank, gaze ticking minutely as she cataloged force, angle, recovery time.

Trixie looked up long enough to follow Johnny's arc with a lazy blink, then returned to pawing at the pole, as if the metal were the only interesting thing in the room.