4 Yandere Think With Me

Stepping into the underground parking lot of a luxury apartment complex always brought a strange sense of finality to my day. The cool, concrete air smelled faint of gasoline and expensive car wax. I walked toward my matte-black sedan, unlocking it with a quiet chirp of the key fob.

I wasn’t a hero. I was a guy who wanted to drink iced coffee, sleep eight hours a night, and watch my own fictional universe play out like a good movie.

Instead, I was playing cosmic hide-and-seek against four of the most dangerous intelligence networks in the city.

Tossing my leather bag onto the passenger seat, I slouched back against the headrest. My mind drifted back to the lecture hall. Aria Shirayuki’s low, predatory whisper still echoed in my ears. "He belongs to me." She hadn’t been talking about Ren Kurogane, the quiet finance major. She had been talking about the masked ghost who shattered concrete floors with a single kick to protect her father.

"If she keeps digging, she’s going to hit a wall," I muttered to myself, turning the ignition. The engine purred to life with a deep, low rumble. "And if she hits a wall, she’ll start looking at the people standing right next to it."

People like me. The guy who magically had a stomach ache and left the campus courtyard exactly forty seconds before three black luxury vans were forced into a multi-car pileup by an anonymous, masked hitchhiker.

I shifted into reverse, checking my rearview mirror.

Click.

My body moved before my brain could process the sound. It was an instinct carved into the very fabric of my transmigrated soul—the master-level combat reflex I had casually typed into a character sheet months ago. My left hand shot backward, my fingers clamping down like steel vice-grips around a slender, gloved wrist that had materialized from the shadows of my backseat.

The blade of a silver kunai stopped exactly three millimeters from my jugular vein.

"Your reaction time is impeccable for a wealthy civilian, Kurogane-san," a calm, melodic voice murmured from the darkness of the rear row.

Through the darkness of the car’s interior, two glowing crimson eyes locked onto mine through the rearview mirror. Kaguya Hayashi. The midnight-black hair, the sharp straight bangs, and that completely unbothered, lethal aura. She was sitting in the back of my car like she owned the vehicle registration.

I didn’t panic. Panic ruins the poker face. I slowly released her wrist, my expression returning to a polite, mildly surprised mask.

"Hayashi-san," I said, my voice level and casual as I turned around in my seat. "Breaking into a classmate’s car is a felony. Also, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a parking permit for this sector."

Kaguya didn’t retract the blade. She simply held it between her fingers, spinning it with terrifying grace before slipping it back into her blazer sleeve. She tilted her head, her gaze boring into my chest, trying to see if my heart rate was spiking. It wasn’t. My absolute sensory control allowed me to keep my pulse at a steady sixty beats per minute.

"I am not interested in your parking regulations," Kaguya said, her voice soft, almost hypnotic. "I am interested in your schedule. Two days ago, during the incident at the downtown docks... you checked out of your luxury gym at 8:15 PM. The traffic cameras lost your car for exactly seven minutes. In those seven minutes, an illegal weapon shipment belonging to my family’s rival faction was intercepted by a single man. A man who tore down a reinforced steel vault door with his bare hands."

I let out a soft, exasperated chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "Hayashi-san, my car has a faulty alternator. It died near the convenience store, and I had to walk inside to buy a lighter fluid for my apartment’s grill. If you think I’m some kind of secret dockworker who smashes steel doors, you’ve been reading too many web novels."

Kaguya leaned forward, her face stopping inches from the headrest. The scent of traditional incense and cold steel rolled off her. She didn’t smile, but her crimson eyes flickered with a deep, dark curiosity that made my spine tingle.

"The convenience store cameras were wiped by a heavy digital pulse at exactly 8:17 PM," she whispered. "A pulse that originated from a local terminal. You are a ghost, Kurogane-san. Everywhere you go, reality leaves a smudge. My clan doesn’t believe in coincidences. We believe in prey that knows how to hide."

Wiped? I thought, keeping my face perfectly still. Damn it, Chloe.

Chloe Valentine must have been tracking my phone’s location that night and fried the local security grid to protect my identity from the police—unknowingly leaving a massive digital breadcrumb for Kaguya’s assassins to follow. They weren’t just hunting for me; they were accidentally tripping over each other’s investigations.

"If you’re looking for a supernatural savior, I suggest you ask Haruto Kirishima," I said, casually shifting the car back into drive. "He’s the one who always gets into fights behind the science building. I’m just a guy trying to go home and cook dinner. Are you staying for the ride, or do I need to drop you off at the gate?"

Kaguya stared at me for three long, agonizing seconds. Finally, she slid backward, blending seamlessly into the tinted shadows of the rear window.

" I will find him, Kurogane-san," she said, her voice fading as she cracked the rear door open while the car was still slowly moving. "And when I do, I will make sure he never leaves my sight again. Have a safe drive."

With a soft click of the door, she was gone. Vanished into the concrete pillars of the garage like she had never been there at all.

I hit the brakes, letting out a long, heavy breath. I gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather groaned under my hidden strength.

"This is getting ridiculous," I muttered, looking at my phone screen.

A new notification popped up. No name. Just a single line of text that bypassed my security layout entirely:

Unknown: [She was in your car for 120 seconds. Next time, I will lock her inside the parking garage elevator. Permanently. Come home, Ren. I’m watching you.]

Chloe was watching the garage cameras. Aria was buying the student records. Mia was probably waiting at my apartment gate pretending to sell girl scout cookies while carrying a concealed weapon. And Haruto, the actual chosen hero of this world, was currently text-spamming me to ask if he could borrow ten thousand yen for a new pair of sneakers because his current ones had holes in them.

I stared at the text from the original protagonist, then at the threat from my digital stalker.

"I gave myself absolute power to survive the final boss," I whispered, rubbing my temples as I drove out into the evening traffic. "Nobody told me the real final bosses were the ones trying to marry me."

The city lights flickered to life against the darkening sky, casting long, crimson shadows over the pavement. The hunt was closing in, and my disappearing acts were running out of room.