Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Elsewhere—far from the city, the noise, and the fires—two figures walked beneath the crooked canopy of the Parklands Forest.

The trees here didn't rise—they loomed. Thick, old things with bark dark enough to drown the moonlight. Their trunks stretched high, disappearing into a canopy dense with oversized leaves, their swaying movement slow, almost sluggish, like something breathing just a bit too deep.

Moonlight struggled to make it down in full. Thin beams filtered through gaps in the leaves, falling in scattered lines that cut across the forest floor like pale scars.

Crickets creaked somewhere in the distance. Owls called to each other overhead, their low hoots moving from branch to branch like warnings passed between sentries.

The grass underfoot was damp and dark green—short in most places, stubborn in others. The air was cold in a way that wasn't about temperature. It felt off. The kind of cold that didn't touch the skin, but coiled around the spine.

Elle led the way.

She moved like she belonged here—Lady Noir in casual, from the black turtleneck to the boots that barely made a sound as she stepped over twisted roots and mossy stumps. Her hair swayed slightly behind her, chestnut strands catching the dull moon light now and then, but never long enough to be warm.

Behind her, Trixie trailed, less graceful and far less dressed for any kind of subtlety.

Her short denim shorts clung tight to her thighs, the cropped black top stopping just below her ribs. Timberland boots crunched through old leaves beneath her feet, the only part of her outfit that looked remotely ready for terrain like this.

She stomped once, squashing something unseen beneath her heel with a faint crunch, then looked down, squinting.

"Ugh. That better not have been a slug," she muttered, shaking her foot out once before moving to catch up. "I'm charging you hazard pay if I step in anything with eyes again."

Elle didn't answer.

She came to a stop near the base of one of the larger trees—bigger than the others, bark jagged and rising like claw marks frozen in growth. She raised her wrist to her face, eyes scanning the darkness ahead without blinking.

A soft bloop pulsed from the band around her wrist—green light flaring briefly into a single dot. Static followed.

Then a familiar voice, clipped and calm, filtered through the device.

"I read you, my lady," Gary said.

Elle didn't respond right away. Her gaze was slow, methodical, scanning from left to right like she was reading something only she could see.

"I'm at the indicated location," she said eventually, voice quiet. "But I don't see anyth—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Not a stutter. Not hesitation. A freeze.

Her body didn't move. But her eyes—her eyes were locked on something ahead. Something far beyond the tree line, nestled in the kind of shadow that didn't play fair with light. A section of forest that seemed… wrong.

Too dark. Too still.

The moonlight thinned out there, just enough to suggest shapes that might not actually be there.

Gary's voice returned, the tone unchanged. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Elle whispered. Then again, louder. "No… everything is perfect."

Her amber eyes didn't blink. They trembled—just slightly. A blush crept across her cheeks, soft but noticeable even in the low light. Her pulse climbed. Not fast. Not panicked. Just enough to signal something dangerous was waking up inside her.

There was a twitch in her smile that wasn't there a moment ago.

Behind her, Trixie exhaled and crossed her arms. She glanced left, then right, tapping one foot as if the forest was taking too long to impress her.

"This is a bust, Elle," she said with a sigh. "How about we just go back? Or even better…" She smirked, eyes gleaming faintly as she leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "We pay Don a little visit and wring him dry. Hm? Hm?"

She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, as if that would sell it.

Elle still didn't move.

Trixie's smirk faltered slightly. "…Elle?"

No response.

The familiar air of obsession had settled on Elle's face like a mask she hadn't realized she'd put on. She stared into that strip of unnatural darkness, lips parting ever so slightly.

Trixie followed her gaze, squinting.

"…Is that… her?" she asked, the words caught somewhere between unease and irritation. Not fear exactly. But close.

Elle's eyes gleamed.

"It is her," she said softly.

Then she turned, just enough for Trixie to see her expression fully. The smile had taken shape now. Small. Delicate. But deeply wrong. It sat on her face like it had been carved there.

"Imagine how happy Don will be," Elle said, her voice feather-light, "if we handle her for him."

Trixie's face shifted instantly—eyebrows tightening, lips pressing together. She didn't back away. But she didn't step forward either.

"Uhm…" she muttered, glancing toward the dark patch ahead. "Handle might be a strong word."

What neither of them saw—unless they were truly looking—was the figure standing just past the first few trees.

Barely visible to the naked eye.

A woman.

Naked.

Her skin was pale beneath the layer of blood smeared over her arms, legs, and mouth. Her green hair fell limp across her shoulders, streaked with something darker than dirt.

She stood unnaturally still, not hunched or ready to strike, just… there. Waiting. Watching.

Her green eyes were wide. Too wide.

Her mouth hung open, stretched inhumanly into a grin that bared every tooth. Not white. Not clean. Jagged. Uneven. Predatory.

A sound slipped through Trixie's lips, quiet and uncertain.

"…Are you sure we can handle her?"

Elle didn't answer.

She just stepped forward once, the smile never leaving her face.

Trixie's question hung in the air—sarcastic, sure, but not unserious.

She didn't flinch. Most would've. Hell, most wouldn't have even stayed this long. But she wasn't most.

Being from the underworld had a way of rearranging your internal threat chart. Mangled smiles, blood-slicked limbs, and cryptic situations didn't top the list anymore. Still, even by her standards, this had bad idea energy written all over it.

Elle, of course, didn't hesitate.

Her voice was soft, but with the kind of certainty only the truly unhinged could deliver without blinking.

"Since when has anything that's come between mine and Don's happiness been impossible to deal with?"

Trixie opened her mouth, halfway to a rebuttal… but stopped. Her brow twitched. Her lips pressed together.

She hated it—but Elle wasn't wrong.

After a moment, she sighed, shoulders sagging slightly as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Fine by me, I guess," she muttered, shrugging. "Since it's just one person, I at least don't have to do anything. Which is great. Because I was promised daily, back-breaking sex when you finally got Don back. Remember that?" She raised a brow, deadpan. "Still waiting."

Elle's gaze snapped sideways. Her eyes narrowed. Her arm twitched like it was halfway to smacking something.

Trixie grinned, just a little.

Then both of them turned, almost in sync.

**Crunch**

A single step echoed through the trees—slow, the sound of bare feet pressing down on dry branches that snapped loud and clean under her weight.

Sister Rose had moved.

Another step. **Crunch**. Then another. **Crack**. The rhythm was off. Staggered. Intentional.

She didn't emerge from the shadows all at once.

First, her legs—blood-smeared and bare, muscles relaxed like they weren't hers to control. Then her torso—pale skin, streaked in red, standing too upright to be casual. The rest of her followed, slow and steady, until she was fully visible in the moonlight.

Her grin had vanished.

Her mouth was now a cold, thin line, as if it had zipped itself shut. Her lips didn't quiver, didn't twitch. They just… pressed together. Firm. Like the muscles didn't belong to her anymore.

Her eyes didn't blink. Still wide. Still green. Still wrong.

She stopped ten paces from them. Then spoke.

"Don," she said stiffly. "Don Bright. The one who ruined one of our sacred dens."

Her voice didn't flow—it clunked. Each word dropped from her tongue like it had been carved from wood and forced through tight lips. Slow. Dragging.

"He will get his retribution," she continued. "Just like you. And all other fleshy parasites."

Trixie tilted her head. Her brow furrowed. "...Fleshy?" she muttered. "Okay, ew."

Sister Rose didn't react. Her body tensed. And then, like someone pulling a string, her grin slowly returned. Wider. Stretched.

"I will enjoy destroying you fleshy parasites," she said.

Her hands raised slowly. Fingernails extended, one by one. Long. Thin. Unnaturally sharp. They didn't grow so much as stretch, like they were unraveling from inside her fingers.

"The Great Mother wills it."

Trixie blinked. "Uh… who's the Great Mother?" she asked, voice flat. "She sounds a bit scary."

No answer came.

Elle stepped forward. Her smile had returned. Wide. Calm. Almost serene. "Don will be so happy when we bring him your head," she said, sweetly.

Trixie muttered before her brain could stop her. "Oh no…"

Because she knew. Elle didn't mean "we". She meant Elle.

Trixie barely had time to react.

Elle inhaled.

Just once.

A short, almost forgettable breath.

But the result was anything but.

**BOOM—**

A sudden blast erupted outward from Elle's position. A wave of force, unseen but felt. It snapped branches, tore through leaves, and flattened the grass in a full circle. Dust kicked up. Air rippled.

Trixie was launched backward with a startled yelp. "Woah!"

Her body spun in midair—then vanished in a flicker of pink light—**fwip**—before reappearing ten feet away, her boots skidding across the ground.

She didn't look hurt. But she looked concerned.

She slapped her wrist, activating the silver bracelet at her arm.

Static.

Then Gary's voice crackled through, tone urgent. "Madam Trixie. What is going on? I'm picking up worrisome readings from your location."

Trixie didn't answer immediately.

She looked toward Elle—now standing motionless in the flattened grass.

The space around her shivered—not visibly, but perceptibly. Like the air itself didn't want to be near her.

Then came the vibration. Low at first. Then higher. A hum that wasn't sound, but pressure. Everything nearby—trees, grass, dirt—trembled like something had just been knocked loose.

Behind Elle's back, something flickered.

A shape.

Another her—a translucent outline hovering inches behind, unmoving but perfectly mirroring her stance. It wasn't a reflection. It wasn't an afterimage. It was just there.

Watching.

It radiated nothing.

And that made it worse.

Even Rose took a half-step back.

Trixie's voice came through the line again, this time quieter.

"Uh… yeah. Elle's gone critical."

She swallowed.

Then added, "But it's different this time."