Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Don shook his head. "I'm fine. A little exercise might help me feel better," he replied with a reassuring smile, though he could see the worry still lingering in her eyes.

"Maybe you're right," Samantha conceded, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. She reached into her purse and pulled out a silver credit card, holding it out to him. "Here, use this to buy some clothes and anything else you need. Just make sure you get what's necessary."

Don took the card, taking note of it's features out of curiosity. "Thanks, I appreciate it," he said, his tone genuine. Then, he added casually, "I don't have any proper bank accounts of my own yet."

Samantha nodded, already anticipating his response. "That's fine. Just use this for now, and I'll deposit some more money into it later. But don't tell Summer, alright? You know how she can be, and I don't want you two fighting over it."

Don agreed easily, though inwardly he recognized that Samantha was doing this out of a mix of guilt and a subconscious need to treat him favorably—perhaps to make up for what she perceived as past wrongs.

It was a delicate balance he was playing, and he knew he had to tread carefully. On the surface, though, he just smiled and said, "Don't worry, I understand. Thanks, really."

Samantha's smile softened, and she looked relieved by his acceptance. "You don't need to worry about getting a job just yet," she added quickly, as if reading his thoughts. "While you're living under my roof, it's my responsibility to take care of you. I owe you that much."

Her words confirmed Don's suspicions that guilt was driving her actions, though she might not even realize it herself. He couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt of his own for manipulating her emotions, but he pushed it aside like he had before. It was necessary, part of the plan to keep her focused on him and ensure his place in this new life.

"Sure," Don replied, his tone light and agreeable. There was no need to argue when things were already working in his favor.

Samantha's smile brightened, and she reached into her purse again, this time pulling out a set of keys. "These are for the Mustang in the garage," she said, handing them to him. "Did you find your license yet?"

Don hadn't actually checked, but he knew better than to lie about something so easily verifiable. "Not yet," he admitted. "But don't worry, I'm not planning on driving without it. I'm not that eager."

Samantha gave him a playful, yet suspicious look, as if weighing his words. "You better not be. That car's a classic, and I'd hate to see it wrecked because someone was too eager to show off."

Before Don could respond, Summer's voice echoed from downstairs, yelling, "Mom! I'm going to be late!"

Samantha sighed, the sound a mix of exasperation and amusement. She looked back at Don, her expression softening. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Will do," Don replied, stepping back into his room as Samantha turned to leave.

"Bye, Donnie," she called out over her shoulder before hurrying down the hallway, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she made her way downstairs.

After Samantha left, Don returned to his room, closing the door behind him. The soft click of the latch was the only sound as he moved toward his dresser, where a small stack of documents sat neatly organized.

Gary had ensured that all his essential paperwork was in order, including his ID, passport, and other necessary documents.

He sifted through them quickly, his fingers brushing against the smooth surfaces of the laminated cards. Among them, he found what he was looking for—his driving license. He held it up to the light, examining the details. It looked perfectly legitimate.

"Gary is a lifesaver," Don murmured to himself while showing a small smirk.

He picked up both his ID and driving license, slipping them into his wallet alongside the silver credit card Samantha had given him earlier.

Exiting his room, Don made his way down the hallway. As he approached the stairs, he spotted Amanda making her way up.

"Oh, Donnie," Amanda said, her voice carrying a bit of surprise. "I was just coming to ask what time you wanted to head out."

Don glanced at his watch, noting that the morning was still young. "Now's a good time," he replied. He was eager to get moving, to see what Amanda's farm was like and to start laying the groundwork for the day.

Amanda nodded, her smile widening. "Great, let's go then."

With that, they both descended the stairs and exited the house. Don caught a glimpse of Samantha's vehicle in the distance, disappearing down the road.

Amanda quickly locked the front door behind them before turning to lead the way to her pick-up truck and Don followed her as they walked across the driveway.

Amanda unlocked the truck and climbed into the driver's seat while Don rounded the front of the vehicle and pulled open the passenger door, sliding into the seat beside her. The interior of the truck was clean but had the lived-in feel of a vehicle that had been well-used. The faint scent of leather and a hint of something earthy—probably from her farm—lingered in the air.

Once they were both settled, Amanda started the engine, the truck roaring to life with a deep, rumbling sound. She shifted into gear and pulled out of the driveway.

As they drove, Don leaned back in his seat. The day was shaping up well, and he felt more in control of his situation than ever.

Now, he just had to make sure everything continued to go according to plan.

———

Meanwhile, back in the forest on the outskirts of the city, Sister Rose walked with a slowed pace down a gloomy, narrow trail.

The path was littered with the bones and carcasses of various animals, their remains scattered haphazardly among the twisted roots of old trees. The air was thick with the stench of decay, mingling with the dampness of the earth, creating an atmosphere that would have sent shivers down the spine of any ordinary person.

But Sister Rose was anything but ordinary.

She was still clad in the sporty attire she had worn at the park—black leggings and a matching sports jacket that concealed her form, a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head, and a face mask that had since been lowered to reveal her unsettling smile.

In one hand, she carried the folder containing Don's profile, her fingers gripping it tightly as she navigated the eerie trail. Strange noises echoed around her, the low growls and distant howls of unseen creatures lurking in the shadows, but Sister Rose was entirely unfazed. If anything, the unsettling ambiance seemed to amuse her.

After a short walk, she reached a clearing. The ground here was stained with dried blood, the scent of it still faintly lingering in the air. The foul smell of rot and death was more potent in this place, thick enough to taste on the tongue.

Sister Rose looked around, her bright green eyes narrowing as she muttered, "Where art thou?"