Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Chapter 688: Same City, Different Structure (Part 2)

As they reached the final checkpoint leading into the street housing City Hall, it proved more thorough—soldiers scanned their documents, ran a quick screening, then guided them forward through a demarcated section.Beyond the barriers, crowds pressed close. Protesters filled the area, voices rising in a restless chorus as signs bobbed overhead.

A black Range Rover moved ahead of them, drawing shouts.

"Kill the rich!"

"Help us too!"

"How can you all be so selfish?"

Don kept the Rolls steady. Some in the crowd threw tomatoes.

One splattered against the windshield with a wet **THUD~**, juice streaking down the glass before the wipers swept it away.

Two more hit the side panels with dull impacts. Neither he nor Miss Claire reacted visibly. He understood the anger.

These people had lost everything. Watching luxury vehicles roll through only sharpened the bitterness.

"One can understand their anger," Miss Claire murmured, echoing his own thoughts.

He guided the car into the assigned parking area under police direction. The zone sat heavily guarded, media personnel clustered nearby with cameras flashing and questions already flying at anyone stepping out.

Don and Miss Claire exited without drawing immediate focus—either the press did not recognize them or had larger targets in mind.

They ascended the wide steps together, passing the podium and stage being arranged for the briefing.

Two soldiers held the large doors open, and they stepped inside.

The ground floor of City Hall buzzed with a contained energy.

People in formal attire mingled with others dressed more casually, the space filled with low conversations and the occasional clink of glasses from refreshment tables.

Don's Keen Eye activated on its own, sharpening details as his gaze swept the room.

He spotted familiar faces quickly: Pyro standing near a small group, gesturing casually while talking; Ash positioned alone by a drinks table, posture guarded; Dean Sanchez engaged in conversation with a cluster of younger attendees who looked like students.

Miss Claire's voice drew his attention back. "The people I intend to meet are on the second floor. Shall we?"

Don shook his head. "Is it alright if I join you in a little bit? I want to say hello to some friends of my own."

"Not a problem," she replied smoothly. "Do call if anything arises." She continued ahead, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she moved toward the stairs.

Don slipped his hands into his pockets and let his gaze wander again.

A few others glanced his way—some curious, others more knowing, with expressions that carried judgment.

He ignored them and walked toward where Ash had isolated herself, weaving through the crowd with unhurried steps.

As he moved through the crowd, the murmur of conversations rose and fell around him like steady background static.

Most of the attendees looked to be in their twenties or thirties, dressed in a mix of business casual and slightly rumpled formal wear, though a handful of older professionals and a few wide-eyed younger faces dotted the gathering.

He wove between small clusters of people nursing drinks and exchanging quiet words, his hands remaining tucked in his pockets.

A boy no older than ten suddenly stepped into his path.

The kid had messy brown hair, a faded blue t-shirt with some cartoon character printed across the front, and bright eyes that went wide the moment they locked onto Don.

He pointed with one small finger, voice pitching up in pure excitement.

"Oh my God, you're Blackstar!"

A gap-toothed grin split his face as he bounced closer. "I'm a huge fan! Oh my goodness, can I uhm get your signature? No no, a picture please?"

Before Don could respond, a large man in a simple button-down shirt and jeans approached from the side, his features bearing a clear resemblance to the boy—same brown hair, though streaked with early gray, and a tired set to his shoulders. "Daniel, stop bothering strangers," he said, voice worn but gentle.

"I'm not!" the boy protested immediately, turning toward his father with insistent energy. "I'm just asking for a picture! This is Blackstar, Dad! I showed you his videos! He fights like you when you were a hero."

The man offered a helpless smile and patted the boy's head. He looked up at Don, who stood noticeably taller, and extended a hand. "Sorry about him. He's a big fan."

Don returned the handshake with a small smile. "I didn't even know I had fans."

The man chuckled. "Name's Ross Alexander. Most people just know me as the Crimson Bolt." He laughed again, shaking his head. "Man, I hate that name till this day."

"Dad… the photo!" Daniel insisted, jumping up and down.

Ross sighed. "Alright, alright."

Don crouched slightly so the boy could hold up his phone. Daniel struck an enthusiastic pose beside him, flashing that missing-tooth grin.

The camera clicked. For a moment, something genuine eased across Don's face—a quiet warmth he hadn't expected. This kid looked at him like he mattered. It felt surprisingly good.

"Nice!" Daniel said brightly after the picture.

Ross gave his son's shoulder a light squeeze. "Say thank you properly, then let the man be."

The boy beamed. "Thank you!"

They parted ways after that, the father guiding his excited son back into the crowd.

Don straightened his jacket and continued toward the drinks table where he had last seen Ash.

She was no longer alone.

A guy stood beside her—slightly taller than her, shaved head gleaming under the lights, neck tattoos visible above the collar of his leather jacket, paired with worn jeans.

Even from a distance, Don isolated their voices amid the surrounding chatter.

The man leaned in with a charismatic grin, clearly mid-story. "So I thought, I couldn't let the kids get eaten or whatever by the mutant or infected, so I charged it and beat it to a pulp. Turns out it was the landlord of the whole unit. The bastard used to raise rent every couple of months, so it was kinda excit—"

Ash rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, her expression making it clear she was seconds from telling him to piss off.

Don stepped up beside them. "Am I interrupting?"

The guy turned, irritation flashing across his face. "Yeah man, can't you see we're having a—" He stopped cold as his gaze traveled up Don's suited frame.

Recognition hit. The man's posture shifted immediately, shoulders tightening under the weight of Don's passive aura.

His heart rate spiked visibly in the way his throat worked.

A brief, awkward silence stretched.

"Well, am I?" Don asked again, tone even.

The man shook his head rapidly. "No sir!" He backed up a step. "I gotta go check on my grandma's bread thingy… bye."

He turned and disappeared into the crowd without even trying to make a decent excuse.

Ash turned toward Don, her shoulders relaxing slightly even as she still felt the weight of his presence.

She wore her usual no-fucks-given style—ripped jeans, a dark hoodie, black lipstick, and a small nose ring that caught the light. It suited her.

Don smiled faintly. "Sorry for chasing away your boyfriend."

"Ugh, like I'd be caught dead with a prick like that," she said, face twisting in clear disgust.

He shrugged. "Who knows." His gaze flicked over her outfit once before he added, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yeah yeah, nobody expects trailer trash like me here," Ash muttered, arms crossing. "I didn't even want to come. That Mr. Xiao guy just sent an invitation to my email so I thought whatever. Not like I was doing anything at that friggin' camp you left me at."

Don caught the defensive edge in her voice. She felt out of place—isolated on purpose, avoiding conversations, convinced the stares were judging her.

He cracked a light joke to ease the tension. "If I'd known you'd miss me, I would have brought you along."

"The hell I missed you!" she shot back quickly, caught off guard.

He shrugged again. "Then off I go."

"No wait, I—" Ash stopped herself, frustration evident. "Argh, I just don't want to be alone here okay? I feel like people are staring at me and shit."

Her denial came out almost cute in its stubbornness.

Don let the teasing linger for another second before nodding toward the rest of the room. "You can survive another hour or so. I'll send you a text. We have some business to do later."

Her expression lifted slightly at that—excitement flickering in her eyes before she schooled it back into a cool shrug. "Yeah sure, whatever… I'll be here." Lower, almost under her breath: "Not like I got anything else better to do…"

Don walked away after that. He spotted Pyro nearby, chatting casually with a small group, and gave him a brief wave as he passed.

Pyro looked like he wanted to say something but didn't pursue it.

Don continued toward the staircase leading to the upper floors.

Security guarded the way, screening attendees carefully.

One soldier ran a quick check on him, consulting a data pad before nodding and stepping aside.

"Clear."

Don ascended the stairs without further delay.