Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

Chapter 675 675: Homecoming (Part 4)

Several minutes later, the estate's interior had swallowed the group whole and scattered them across different floors.The transition happened with the same smooth flow that seemed to define everything connected to the Miss Claire's family.

Maids appeared where they were needed, luggage that nobody remembered carrying was somehow already being transported, and guests were gently guided through hallways while receiving brief explanations regarding meal schedules, available facilities, and sections of the estate that remained restricted.

Don followed along without paying much attention.

For the first time in days, there wasn't a crisis demanding his attention.

No infected, no mercenaries, no gunfire. Just a mansion… a very expensive mansion.

As they passed one of the guest rooms, a muffled THUMP~ came from behind a closed door.

Then another. Don glanced sideways.

Amanda had apparently claimed her room.

An appreciative whistle sounded a moment later.

"Holy shit." The words carried through the door clearly enough.

Don heard the distinct sound of a television remote being picked up.

CLICK~

A second later channels began flipping rapidly.

Apparently Amanda had already settled in.

He kept walking.

Sylvia and Summer had separated from the group much earlier. Their voices drifted through a side corridor somewhere ahead, gradually fading as they disappeared deeper into the estate.

"...the actuator response wasn't matching the projected output."

"Because the predictive model wasn't finished."

"It was finished."

"It wasn't."

"It mostly was."

Their discussion continued uninterrupted.

Summer's technical explanations blended with Sylvia's energetic commentary until the two sounded less like teenagers and more like engineers reviewing a project deadline.

Considering the amount of time they had spent together recently, Don supposed that wasn't entirely inaccurate.

The remaining group moved through a quieter section of the mansion.

Paintings hung between polished wall sconces. Warm golden light spread across dark wooden floors, replacing the sterile white illumination that had dominated the underground facility.

The difference was surprisingly noticeable.

Everything felt softer here. The air didn't smell recycled and the walls weren't made of reinforced concrete.

Eventually the maids stopped outside a room near the end of the corridor.

One gestured toward the door.

"This will be your room, madam."

Samantha looked at the room before glancing back toward the maid.

The second maid turned toward Don.

"And yours, sir, is on the next floor above."

Don noticed the change immediately.

Not because Samantha said anything but because she didn't.

A slight crease formed between her brow, while the corners of her mouth lowered slightly.

Tiny things. Easy to miss.

But after everything that had happened during the outbreak, they stood out.

"Uhm..." She hesitated.

Then looked toward the maid.

"Is there another room I can use upstairs as well?"

The question sounded casual but it wasn't. Don understood immediately.

She didn't want him far away..

He remained quiet and let the conversation play out.

The maids exchanged a brief look.

One shook her head. "Unless you wish to exchange rooms," the second maid replied carefully. "Though this room is more suited for female guests."

Samantha forced a smile.

"Oh, that's fine." The expression looked convincing enough, though eyes gave her away.

The first maid opened the door.

"Come in, madam. I will help you get settled."

Before Samantha could step inside, Don reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The side hug lasted only a moment.

She leaned into him immediately. Neither of them said anything at first.

Then Don gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "I'll come check on you later."

Samantha nodded."Okay."

Simple. But she looked slightly more relaxed afterward.

The maid guided her into the room and a moment later the door closed behind them.

CLICK~

The remaining maid turned toward Winter.

"As for you, madam—"

"I do not require sleep." The statement arrived with such blunt finality that the maid visibly stalled.

She blinked. Once. Then twice before her mouth opened slightly.

Don sighed. "She's an android."

Understanding replaced confusion almost immediately. "Oh."

The maid straightened. "I see."

To her credit, she recovered quickly.

"This way then, sir."

Don followed her toward the staircase while Winter silently walked beside him.

The second floor felt different from the first.

The ceilings were higher and the hallways wider. There were fewer doors and significantly more empty space.

Large windows overlooked the estate grounds, allowing the final traces of evening sunlight to spill across polished floors.

Outside, the sky had begun transitioning toward dusk.

Orange and gold slowly gave way to deeper shades of blue.

The maid led them past several closed rooms before stopping near the end of the corridor.

She offered a small bow.

"Here you go, sir. Please feel free to inquire if anything is needed."

Before Don could answer, Winter stepped forward.

"Do not worry."

The maid looked at her.

Winter clasped her hands behind her back. "If he or any of the others require anything, I shall pass on the instructions to you, Mrs. Asante."

The maid blinked and her eyebrows rose. A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

"How do you know my—"

"I have been granted restricted access to the estate's servers." Winter's voice remained perfectly level.

"I know all staff members, the residential layout, the security patrol schedules, the kitchen inventory, the maintenance history of the plumbing system, and the weekly delivery routes for both groceries and dry cleaning."

The maid stared at her.

Don watched the exchange unfold.Several seconds passed.

"I see," Mrs. Asante said slowly.She no longer sounded entirely comfortable.

"Then I shall arrange your room—"

"That will not be necessary." Winter interrupted immediately.

"I am also more than capable of performing that task in less than half the time and with greater efficiency."

Mrs. Asante's smile became noticeably strained.

Don almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

The woman looked toward him instead.

"Then I shall take my leave, sir."

She bowed once more.

Then walked away.

Her footsteps clicked down the hallway slightly faster than before.

CLICK~ CLICK~ CLICK~

Winter watched her retreat.

Expressionless and motionless.

Completely oblivious to the social damage she had just inflicted.

Don raised an eyebrow.

Winter looked back at him.

Then calmly turned around and entered the room.

Not a word. Not a hint of explanation.

Don shook his head. 'I guess she doesn't like human maids.'

He stepped inside, but then stopped almost immediately.

The room was enormous. Larger than some apartments he'd seen.

A king-sized bed occupied the center of the room beneath an ornate chandelier. Crisp white sheets stretched neatly across the mattress, accompanied by enough decorative pillows to supply an entire family.

Tall ceilings rose overhead.

Detailed crown molding framed the upper walls.

A set of open balcony doors allowed cool evening air to drift inside.

The breeze carried the scent of fresh grass, flowers, and earth from the gardens below.

Paintings decorated the walls.

Landscapes. Portraits. One painting depicted an elderly man Don didn't recognize.

Near one corner stood a grand piano positioned beneath a tall window.

The polished surface reflected the room's warm lighting.

Compared to the underground laboratory, the difference felt absurd.

Winter immediately began inspecting the room. She adjusted the angle of a lamp.

Straightened a blanket.

Pressed several pillows experimentally before rearranging them according to some internal standard only she understood.

Don watched for a few moments.

Then walked toward the bed.

The mattress sank beneath him as he sat.

Soft… dangerously soft.

He lowered himself backward.

The ceiling came into view.

Cream-colored.

Decorative molding traced elegant patterns near the edges.

His hand rested on his chest while his other arm settled across his stomach.

The room remained pleasantly cool.

Outside, distant birds called from somewhere among the gardens.

For the first time since returning to the facility, he allowed himself to simply lie still.

His thoughts drifted naturally toward the future.

Santos would recover eventually.

From the history he knew about this world, cities always did.

People rebuilt, businesses adapted. But power also shifted.

Someone always gained from the aftermath.

The outbreak would change things.

Opportunities would appear. Perhaps new alliances, new investments and new vulnerabilities.

The question wasn't whether change would come. It was whether he would be prepared when it did.

There was still so much to handle. Resources needed consolidating, contacts needed strengthening and enemies likely still existed.

The thought lingered briefly.

Then his thoughts began slowing.

The ceiling lost focus.

His eyelids felt heavier.

The mattress seemed softer.

The breeze cooler.

He let his eyes close.

Sleep arrived almost immediately.