Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Chapter 681: Normality (Part 1)

Several minutes later, both were back in their seats.Elle's fingers fumbled weakly at the waistband of her shorts, her thighs still slick with sweat and sticky release as she tried to tug the fabric up over her legs.

The material clung to her damp skin, dragging against the mess between her thighs as she finally managed to pull them into place.

Don watched from the driver's seat, his own breathing relaxed, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel as his gaze traced the flushed curve of her cheek.

Elle remained quiet for a few moments afterward.

The cabin settled into a comfortable stillness broken only by the distant chorus of insects beyond the windows.

Elle smoothed her palms over her clothes, pressing out wrinkles that only she seemed concerned about.

A moment later, she brushed the back of her hand across her lips to remove some "sticky" remnants before letting both hands settle neatly in her lap.

The change was immediate.

The strange glow that had filled her eyes earlier was gone. Their color had faded back to the soft amber he remembered.

Her dark hair no longer floated or released faint traces of mist. It rested naturally against her shoulders, unmoving.

Even her expression looked different.

The confidence from moments earlier had vanished entirely.

Now she sat with her knees together and her fingers fidgeting against one another, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks whenever she glanced in his direction.

Don watched her from behind the steering wheel.

'Is she back to normal? Just like that?'

Part of him didn't believe it. Things involving Elle rarely proved that simple, the evidence sat right beside him.

Whenever he was around, she stabilized.

Whenever he disappeared for long periods, she became... different.

That realization probably should have worried him more than it did.

Instead, he found himself studying the way she avoided his eyes. The way she kept stealing brief glances toward him and the way her fingers kept twisting together in her lap.

No matter how strange things became, one fact remained unchanged.

Nobody believed in him more than Elle.

Nobody looked at him the way she did.

There was something strangely comforting about that. Something that made him want to become the person she already seemed convinced he was.

At the very least, she deserved honesty.She deserved effort.

So… without speaking, he reached over.

His fingers slipped into her hair and the dark strands slid smoothly between his knuckles.

Immediately, Elle leaned into the touch as a small smile appeared on her face.

Then another.

The second one lingered.

"I need to go soon." The words left him quietly.

Her reaction was instant. The smile faltered and the corners of her lips lowered slightly.

A disappointed expression flashed across her face.

Before it could settle there completely, Don continued.

"But before that..."

His hand moved from her hair and brushed across her cheek.

His palm settled gently against the side of her face.

"...tell me what you've been up to."

His thumb traced a slow path along her cheekbone.

The disappointment softened immediately as Elle's eyes lowered. "Not much."

Her voice barely rose above a whisper."Just boring work."

Don shook his head. "I don't care." His thumb brushed lightly near the corner of her mouth.

"I just want to hear your voice."

For a moment she stared at him, then her blush deepened and a warmer smile returned.

One that reached her eyes this time.

She shifted slightly in her seat until she faced him more fully.

And then she began talking.

At first, it was simple things. Routine reports, equipment reviews and long stretches spent buried beneath endless data.

She told him about Trixie interrupting meetings with increasingly ridiculous observations.

About minions abandoning conversations whenever she appeared because nobody wanted to spend twenty minutes listening to her explain whatever new obsession she had discovered.

At one point Elle described Trixie attempting to convince three minions that motorcycles were spiritually superior to automobiles.

Don laughed.

And Elle's smile widened.

Encouraged, she continued.

She spoke about the Citadel itself. How empty it felt lately, how large the halls seemed whenever she walked through them alone and how the common rooms remained quieter than usual.

She never directly said she missed him… she didn't have to.

Every story carried the implication naturally and Don listened.

His thumb continued its slow movement against her cheek.

Outside, darkness continued gathering beyond the windows.

But inside, the cabin felt warmer. Calmer.

The dashboard lights remained steady. The glass no longer carried traces of fog and the strange electrical interference that had accompanied her arrival had disappeared completely.

Neither of them noticed.

Don simply listened while Elle spoke.

And for a little while, the world felt normal again.

Meanwhile—

Several kilometers away, deep within the Citadel—

Normal had ceased to exist some time ago.

The corridor stretched endlessly beneath flickering lights.

Gray alloy walls lined both sides. Every few seconds, the lights buzzed. Then dimmed, before fighting their way back to life.

Each fluctuation altered the corridor's appearance.

Darkness swallowed sections of the hall before retreating again, revealing the carnage.

Blood covered nearly every surface and long crimson smears stained the walls.

Droplets marked the ceiling panels overhead.

The floor had become a shallow lake of red, making every step through it produce a wet, unpleasant sound.

Not that anyone remained alive to take those steps. Because bodies littered the corridor.

Minions. Dozens of them, perhaps more.

Their remains lay scattered across the alloy floor in various states of ruin.

One corpse rested against the wall where it had impacted hard enough to dent reinforced metal.

Another had been folded across a manner no human body should have achieved.

Several others were barely recognizable… and the damage hadn't come from blades.

Nor bullets.

Nor any conventional weapon.

Something had simply torn through them.

The lights flickered and darkness swallowed the corridor.

One second. Two.

Then the fluorescents returned. Nothing had changed.

Blood still coated the walls and bodies still filled the hall.

And one man was still alive among them.

Gary.

His back rested against the alloy wall, but his breathing emerged in slow, ragged pulls.

The pristine butler attire he favored had been reduced to little more than torn fabric hanging from his frame.

Blood covered almost everything.

His shirt, his trousers, his hands and his face.

A deep gash above his eyebrow continued feeding crimson down the side of his head.

One arm hung uselessly beside him.

The shoulder sat wrong, but the elbow looked worse.

Each breath caused faint movements that sent pain across his features.

Yet he remained standing. Barely.

But standing nonetheless.

Then… pink smoke erupted nearby.

FWOOF~

A small cloud expanded before dispersing across the corridor.

Trixie appeared in its center. Her bare feet landed directly in pooled blood.

She paid it no attention whatsoever. Golden eyes swept across the corridor.

The bodies, the destruction, the walls, then finally, Gary.

Hands settled on her hips.

"I told you not to try stopping her."

Gary coughed. The sound emerged wet.

Dark blood struck the floor near his shoe.

"Perhaps," he replied slowly, "I acted prematurely."

Trixie rolled her eyes. "You worry too much."

Gary didn't immediately answer.

The lights flickered again, making the buzzing overhead seem louder.

Or perhaps everything simply felt louder when surrounded by this much death.

"Run the diagnostic sequence."

Trixie immediately groaned."Work?"

"Yes."

"You're bleeding all over the place and your concern is paperwork?"

"Diagnostic sequence."

She stared at him.

Gary stared back.

Eventually she sighed dramatically. "Fine."

The tablet appeared in her hands.

Several moments passed while Gary recited commands and Trixie entered them.

The process continued without interruption until the tablet emitted a soft tone.

A message appeared.

Winter's.

Gary skimmed the contents through blood-streaked vision.

A tired sigh escaped him.

By the time the exchange concluded and Winter ended communication, Trixie had already begun wandering around the corridor again.

She nudged a detached helmet across the floor with her foot.

It slid through blood before striking a wall.

"Aren't you gonna tell her?" she asked.

Gary looked up.

"Tell her what?"

Trixie gestured broadly. "The entire murder hallway."

His gaze drifted around the corridor.

Bodies, blood and destruction.

A fairly accurate description.

"It's under control."

Trixie raised an eyebrow.

Neither of them seemed convinced by the statement.

Still, she shrugged. "If ya say so."

She tucked the tablet against her chest.

Then glanced toward the cracked head dangling from one minion.

"Oh." Her eyes brightened. "My show's probably back."

Pink smoke immediately erupted around her.

FWOOF~

When it dispersed, she was gone.

Just like that, Gary found himself alone again.

The corridor seemed quieter afterward… or perhaps merely emptier.

His breathing remained uneven and blood continued dripping from his jaw.

After several seconds, he finally reached for his damaged arm.

His fingers wrapped around the shoulder.

Then he pulled.

CRACK~

The joint snapped back into place. Pain immediately exploded through his body, locking his jaw in place.

Muscles tightened.

But no sound escaped him. Not one.

Then sweat formed across his forehead, slowly he lowered the arm. Tested it.

It was barely functional, barely.

The flickering lights reflected across the blood covering the corridor.

Gary closed his eyes briefly. Then opened them again.

"Bloody—"

The curse died before completion.

His gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

Toward problems that seemed to multiply faster than solutions.

Toward a future becoming increasingly complicated.

After a long moment, he exhaled.

'We need an Arcane specialist.' The thought lingered. 'Soon.'