Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 346: Family Matters (Part 3)

The living room looked nothing like it had earlier that day.

The coffee table had been shoved off to the side, making room for a mess of pillows and layered blankets sprawled across the carpet. The couch had also been buried under an avalanche of soft throws, clearly the work of someone who took "cozy" a little too seriously.

Samantha was currently on her knees near the base of the sofa, fluffing the last pillow like she was prepping a five-star sleep clinic. Her face held that unusually bright glow she only ever got when domesticity actually worked in her favor.

No arguments, no chaos—just warm lighting, no Wi-Fi, and the chance to make everyone sit in the same room for more than five minutes.

Ahead of her, Summer was sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop propped on her thighs as she scrolled through a cluttered folder full of old movie files. The display mirrored neatly onto the living room TV, which—thanks to the lack of network—was now their only viable screening method.

Streaming anything in real time was a pipe dream.

"We're basically back to prehistoric times," Summer muttered under her breath, scrolling a little faster. The folders were a mess. Half had names like "Download1 (fixed maybe)" and "backup_of_backup_FINAL." The other half were clearly pirated from sites that probably no longer existed.

Behind her, Amanda wandered in with a yawn so lazy it felt offensive. She was still only half-dressed—loose white vest, plain navy cotton panties—and somehow looked both half-asleep and fully functional.

She moved on autopilot, balancing a tray with pizza slices and assorted snacks on one arm while cracking open a can of beer with the other.

**Tsssskk**—**fsshhht**

The beer hissed as it opened.

She sat down on the recliner with zero ceremony, slouching into it like her bones were melting. Her eyes drifted lazily to the screen.

Samantha didn't comment on Amanda's outfit. She'd long since given up that battle.

Tonight, she didn't care. Her energy was entirely focused on the pillows and snacks and the absurd dream of a full-family bonding moment. She adjusted her glasses as she looked up at the TV, blinking a few times to get a clearer view.

Summer, still scrolling, asked without looking, "Uhm… is there a specific movie you guys wanted to watch?"

Amanda took a loud bite of pizza and answered mid-chew, "Got anything with guns? Preferably something classic."

Samantha scrunched her nose at the idea and turned toward Amanda with a small frown. "I think we should let Summer and Donnie decide. It was their idea after all."

Summer paused her scrolling for a moment, eyes still on the screen.

She didn't say anything.

But in her mind? A spark of opportunity flickered. 'Mom doesn't like horror movies. And Amanda gets jumpy like a feral cat if you even hint at a jump scare… maybe they'll back out halfway.'

A faint smile appeared at the edge of her lips—barely noticeable.

She stopped on a file titled Journey To The Italian Countryside.mp4.

A film that, from its title, sounded like something drenched in sunset-soaked romance and accordion music. Nothing about the name screamed high-budget horror, which was exactly what it was.

Summer's cursor hovered over the play button.

Both women on the couch leaned forward slightly, squinting at the screen like it held answers to life's bigger questions.

"Journey to the Italian Countryside…" Samantha read out loud, adjusting her glasses again. Her tone was warm, almost touched. "Oh, that sounds like a lovely movie. What's it about, honey?"

Summer kept her face neutral.

Before she could reply, Amanda beat her to it, rolling her eyes. "Sounds like a cheesy romance. If someone starts crying over a proposal in a vineyard, I'm throwing my beer at the TV."

Summer still didn't answer. She just tapped one finger lightly against the laptop's trackpad, feigning indecision.

The moment broke as Don walked in from the hallway.

He stretched his arms above his head, wearing the same plain white vest and baggy grey sweatpants from earlier, though his hair was now dry and less chaotic. He glanced around the room at the blankets, food, laptop—then at his aunt, legs spread across the recliner like it was hers by law.

"Everything all set?" he asked, lowering his arms with a soft pop from his shoulder.

Amanda held up her beer.

"Ready as we'll ever be," she said.

Samantha gave Don a bright smile. "Yes, we were just waiting on you. Come sit down."

Don looked at Summer, who was still hovering over the cursed movie title like a sniper about to take a shot.

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"Summer, you good?"

She glanced up, the faintest trace of innocence creeping across her face.

"Mm-hm. Just picking the perfect film."

"Right."

He raised an eyebrow—but said nothing else. He made his way over to the couch and dropped down next to Samantha, one leg folding under him as he grabbed a pillow and adjusted slightly.

The couch creaked beneath him.

Amanda took another swig of her beer and muttered, "If this turns into some historical romance crap, I'm sleeping with my eyes open."

As Don got seated, Samantha questioned him with worry. "Sweetie, are you still feeling sore?"

Don shrugged lightly. "A little bit," he admitted, stretching his arms again.

At this time, Summer left her laptop out of view and went over to the sofa in hopes of sitting next to Don, but Samantha instead just inched closer to him.

Summer's frown came and went in the span of a blink.

It wasn't about the question. It was about the seat.

She didn't make a sound. Didn't let it show. But it itched. Samantha didn't mean anything by it—she never did. To her, this was just a warm little family scene. A chance to "bond." But to Summer, it was a slow repeat of the same pattern that had always made her bristle.

Don was hers.

Her older brother. Her constant. The only one who ever really got her. And now, even movie night—a thing she picked, planned, and offered—was being swallowed whole by Samantha's eagerness to wedge herself into the middle of it.

Literally.

She crossed her arms tighter as she took a seat. "Well," she said, tone clipped. "Since everyone's comfortable… let's enjoy the movie."

No one questioned it.

Across from her, Amanda reached lazily for the remote on the armrest of her recliner. She found it without looking, thumb hovering over the buttons. "I'll hit the lights," she muttered.

**Click**

The room dimmed instantly, the soft yellow of the ceiling light vanishing. Darkness folded in like a blanket, leaving only the glow of the television to cast shape and color across their faces.

**Duuunnnn**... A low violin note dragged out from the TV's speakers as the opening credits began to roll.

The first shot was of a long country road. Empty. Foggy. Too still.

The strings got higher—uncomfortably so.

Amanda narrowed her eyes at the screen.

"…Is this a horror movie?" she asked, already looking worried, but playing it off with a smile. "Well… At least it won't be boring."

Samantha didn't say anything.

But her posture shifted.

Only slightly—barely perceptible—but Don noticed. Her fingers twitched on her lap. Her knees moved just an inch closer together. Her back went straight.

If it were ten years ago, she would've spoken up. Asked for something more wholesome. Something that didn't involve blood or jump scares or ominous orchestras.

But everyone here was grown now. Practically.

Samantha forced herself to relax, hoping no one noticed her discomfort. Ruining the night over a little genre anxiety would defeat the entire point.

Don, without a word, reached his arm behind her shoulders.

And settled it there.

His palm rubbed gently against the upper part of her back, slow and easy.

He wasn't thinking about it—just noticed the shift and moved on instinct. A small comfort gesture. No fanfare.

But to Samantha?

It was everything.

Her heart warmed instantly. The knot in her stomach unraveled. A soft smile crept across her lips as she turned her face slightly toward him.

'He remembers,' she thought. 'He remembers I don't do well with scary movies.'

He didn't.

Not even a little.

But he kept rubbing her shoulder, and she kept smiling.

Summer noticed the motion out of the corner of her eye.

She said nothing.

What could she say? He was just being sweet. That's what he did. Still, something about it irritated her. The way Samantha melted into that touch. The smile she wore like it meant something deeper.

Summer's arms folded again—tighter.

Her eyes flicked back to the screen.

She hoped the movie was scary enough to make them reconsider joining next time and hopefully leave soon.

Amanda, meanwhile, was fully locked in.

She sipped from her beer, completely unbothered, her gaze fixed on the screen with a kind of blank, unimpressed readiness. Whatever happened—ghosts, gore, serial killers—she was ready, or rather… at least pretended to be.

The movie's eerie strings climbed higher.

Outside, the wind picked up slightly, brushing against the windows with a soft **hhhhhrrrrrrmmff**.

The opening scene faded into black.

And the family movie night—officially—began.