Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 368: Don Vs Everyone (Part 3)
There was no fanfare when Don stepped up onto the stage.
linzRiot: don't care. william's hotter.
Voidblade: Bright is literally public enemy #1 and I STILL want him to win
donLuvr88: shut up nerds, my man's bout to EAT
D-Watcher: 10 bucks says William cries before he bleeds
killjoy: i just want blood
HexDoll: he's not even sweating. why is that hot
CorpScan_bot: **Message flagged for review**
Shadex999: WHO'S STREAMING THIS ILLEGALLY DROP LINKS
———
Bright Residence, Living Room
Amanda grinned like a shark with new teeth.
She sat cross-legged on the couch, remote in hand, volume cranked just below the point of complaint. The massive screen lit her face in flickers of red and silver—Don and William frozen in pre-fight postures.
Samantha stood nearby, arms crossed, expression sour.
"I don't like this," she muttered, her voice low but sharp.
Amanda didn't glance away. "Trust me, sis."
Samantha shifted her weight, one foot tapping against the polished floor.
"That's what worries me."
Amanda smirked wider. "Relax. It's not murder if it's school-sanctioned."
Samantha didn't respond. She just kept watching, her jaw clenched tighter than her arms.
———
Miss Claire's Office
The lighting was low—intentional, moody, expensive.
Miss Claire reclined in her leather chair like she was watching a charity auction, one leg folded neatly over the other. A glass of red wine spun lazily between her fingers, the light catching the swirl like a performance.
Sylvia perched against the armrest, eyes bright with a kind of childish excitement that matched the glint in her earrings.
"Don's going to win, right, mom?"
Miss Claire didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she sipped once, slow and thoughtful. Then she looked over, smile curling at the edges of her lips.
"Do be a dear," she said, "and hand me my bag."
Sylvia blinked, then scampered off the armrest toward the desk without a word.
Claire's eyes lingered on the screen a moment longer. "It's time we started recalibrating expectations."
———
Xiao Suite – Infinity Pool
The sun was obnoxiously perfect.
So was the pool.
Women in designer swimwear draped themselves along the edge like decor at a billionaire's funeral. They laughed at nothing, clinked glasses at nothing, and smiled at a man who wasn't looking at them.
Mr. Xiao floated at the center of the pool—arms out, eyes closed, expression unreadable.
One of the women, tan and tailored, leaned forward with a voice that belonged on a perfume commercial.
"Mr. Xiao, you have a call!"
He sighed.
Then he sank—completely—before emerging at the edge of the pool with the kind of smooth grace that made lesser men jealous.
His hand reached up for the phone before his eyes even opened.
The women giggled. One of them ran her fingers across his chest like she'd found treasure.
He answered with a single breath. "I told you not to interrupt me today, Silus."
Silence. Listening. His eyes finally opened.
A slow smile then crept across his face.
"Well," he said, voice slick as the pool surface, "isn't that interesting."
He stood up, water cascading off him like peeled silk.
"Meet me out front in ten."
He hung up. No goodbye.
Turning to the crowd, he offered the faintest incline of his head.
"Apologies, ladies. Business calls."
They pouted. They cooed. They didn't matter.
He was already walking away.
