Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Don folded his arms, leaning back against the cool wooden staircase rail. His eyes stayed fixed on Winter, whose neutral expression showed no sense of awkwardness despite the uncomfortable topic.

Her calculated precision in speech and movement was something he was still getting used to.

"What makes you think she was talking about me?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Winter's gaze remained steady. "Given my analysis of her behavioral patterns, interactions, and social contact records, you are the most logical candidate."

Don's brow arched. "Wait... you've got access to her digital info? Like... messages?"

Winter's head shifted with mechanical exactness. "No. I am prohibited from forcefully accessing the devices of household residents or external individuals unless explicitly instructed by you or if they are deemed a credible threat."

Don lowered his brow, nodding in cautious understanding. Winter's tone remained as composed as ever.

"However, I do monitor the metadata of her communications," she explained. "This includes tracking whom she frequently contacts through publicly accessible service provider records or social media interactions. I analyze message traffic, call frequency, and connection strength to establish behavioral patterns and predict likely points of interest."

Her gaze sharpened slightly—a minor adjustment only someone studying her intently would notice. "For example, the only male actively initiating communication with your mother is the Director of her workplace, a man by the name of Mr. Thomas."

Don scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That... makes sense." His curiosity deepened. "Alright, so how did you answer her question?"

"I did not." Winter's tone remained clinical. "I informed your mother that I required additional time to gather relevant data and would provide an answer by the end of the day."

Don tapped his fingers against the stair rail, processing her explanation. The fact that Samantha trusted Winter enough to ask such a personal question was oddly reassuring. It could've been far worse if she'd asked someone like Amanda, who lacked discretion.

At least this way, Winter functioned like a more advanced smart assistant—cold, calculating, and predictable in her logic. He could work with that.

"I see." He nodded firmly. "Thanks for running it by me first."

Winter gave a polite half-bow. "You are welcome."

Don straightened and crossed his arms. "Alright... since this is how things stand, here's what I want you to tell Mom when she gets back…"

———

A few minutes later…

Don remained by the staircase, arms crossed, his face showing little as he outlined the specific instructions he wanted Winter to deliver to Samantha later. His tone was direct, clear—this wasn't a grand plan, just a simple test to gauge Samantha's trust in Winter's information.

Winter stood still, her posture flawlessly rigid, hands folded neatly at her waist. Her unblinking gaze tracked Don as he spoke. Her internal processors evaluated every word, running simulations on probable outcomes.

When he finished, she tilted her head by precisely 10 degrees, her voice clear and factual. "Understood. Should your mother accept the information you instructed me to present, the likelihood of a sexual outcome between you and her may increase."

Don didn't flinch or react. Denial would've been pointless. Hiding anything from an advanced android like Winter was practically impossible unless he explicitly restricted her operations. Doing so, however, would have been a waste of her potential. He needed every advantage she could offer, even in more... unconventional areas.

After a few silent moments, Winter added, "Given your lack of objection, I assume this potential result aligns with your long-term objectives."

Her words were blunt and full of calculated reasoning. Don could tell there wasn't even a hint of moral judgment in her statement. Winter functioned purely on logic and probabilistic outcomes.

He nodded slowly, processing the implications. 'Using Winter might actually work... in more ways than one.'

Seeing his acceptance, Winter continued, "However, this proposed task has a significant variable range. Human emotional responses are complex, making exact predictions unreliable."

Don smirked faintly. "People are complicated."

"Indeed." Winter's gaze remained steady, though her internal systems recalculated possible scenarios in milliseconds. Despite her vast computational power, she recognized the chaotic unpredictability of human behavior.

Don exhaled sharply, turning toward the staircase. He'd learned enough for now. If Winter's loyalty and discretion were intact, she could become an invaluable asset.

As he placed one foot on the first step, Winter spoke again.

"One more thing."

He paused, glancing back. "Yes?"

Winter's head tilted the opposite way, her gaze steady but faintly inquisitive. "Returning to my earlier statement... If your objective includes attaining mastery of sexual engagement, I recommend utilizing my capabilities fully for preparatory purposes. I can simulate diverse scenarios and practices to enhance your performance with future real-life partners."

Her voice never wavered, delivering the offer as if discussing a routine software update.

Before Don could respond, she added, "Data from recent studies indicates that 62% of long-term relationships ending in infidelity or separation cite inadequate sexual fulfillment as a primary factor."

Don blinked, momentarily stunned—not by the offer itself, but by the sheer clinical frankness of it. Winter approached the subject with the same neutral logic she applied to cleaning schedules or household security protocols.

His mind turned over the possibilities. He'd already crossed several ethical lines—intimately engaging with a succubus and members of what was now his own family. The idea of drawing a boundary now felt... pointless.

'Why stop here?'

Don straightened, suppressing any outward sign of intrigue. "That... might not be such a bad idea."

Winter nodded with mechanical precision. "Acknowledged. I will prepare accordingly."

Don raised a hand dismissively, his voice steady. "We'll talk more about that later. I don't have the time right now."

Winter nodded crisply, her response immediate. "Understood. I shall continue cleaning the house then unless you have additional instructions?"

"No."

Without waiting for further acknowledgment, Don turned and ascended the staircase. His footsteps **thudded** against the polished wooden steps, gradually fading as he disappeared around the corner.

Winter remained motionless for a brief moment, her gaze lingering on where Don had been. Then, in a fluid motion, she pivoted on her heel, her hips still swaying as she walked back toward her tasks.

———

Don stepped into his room and immediately noticed the fresh, crisp scent of cleaning products hanging faintly in the air. The room was immaculate—Winter's handiwork, no doubt—but he paid it little attention. His focus remained singular.

Crossing the room with brisk steps, he approached the right-side bedside dresser where his phone rested on its wireless charging station. The small indicator light blinked faintly, signaling a full charge.

He scooped up the phone and unlocked it with a swipe. Notifications poured across the screen—several messages demanding his attention.

The first one caught his eye instantly:

Gary - 02:18

"We have successfully moved into the new base."

A second message followed:

Gary - 04:45

"Everything is in order, but the young madam insists we need you present before discussing resource allocation and other key matters. I agree with her, but if you have more urgent business, it can wait."

Don brought a thoughtful hand under his chin, considering a reply. Discussions about securing a new base had dominated his conversations with Gary for the past two days. Gary had diligently updated him on progress, even asking for Don's input on potential sites near the city.

The chosen location wasn't as advanced as the previous island facility, but its potential was undeniable. It would allow Don to oversee operations directly, shape the organization's activities, and even allocate his resources—financial, material, and personnel.

With that settled in his mind, he typed out a swift reply:n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Don - 10:21

"Send directions via Gary Assist. I'll be leaving the house in the next 30 minutes with my car."

He hit Send and shifted his focus to the next notification—a message from Sylvia sent the previous night at 10:04 PM:

Stay tuned to empire

"Hey, you awake??"

Don's expression remained neutral as he typed a short response:

"I called it a night early, but good morning."

Satisfied, he moved on to the next unread message, this one from Tori at 08:37 AM:

"Good morning."

He tapped out a simple reply:

"Good morning. How's your morning going?"

Lastly, Don noticed a message from Donald sent at 06:18 AM:

"Hey bro, do you know anyone who'd want to practice VR-FPS with us?"

Don pondered the request for a moment. Recruiting someone reliable for VR-FPS practice was easier said than done, especially when it wasn't something he was really focused on. Still, he knew the value of keeping Donald engaged.

He typed back a quick answer:

"I'll look into it."

After sending the final reply, Don lowered his phone with a quiet clack against the nightstand, before walking over to his closet to get dressed.