Secret Magical Lovers: Yandere Isekai Novel

Beneath the dimly lit bridge-tunnel, the air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and lingering exhaust fumes. The faint hum of passing cars above reverberated through the walls, their headlights occasionally flashing through cracks in the structure, offering brief glimpses of the scene below. A single streetlight flickered weakly near the tunnel's entrance, casting long, shifting shadows that stretched and twisted across the cold pavement.

Lying on the ground was a girl, her small frame curled slightly as though trying to make herself smaller. Dust and grime smeared her delicate features, uneven streaks running across her cheeks like careless brushstrokes. Her dark brown hair, usually neatly side-swept, was disheveled and coated with fine dirt, giving it a dull, lifeless appearance. A simple hairband still clung to her head, slightly askew, a reminder of the tidiness she once carried before this moment. Her eyes, a soft shade of brown, glistened with unshed tears, filled with sadness and helplessness, as if the world had long since turned its back on her.

She wore a school uniform—a crisp white shirt that had once been pristine, now wrinkled and stained. A red blazer, still buttoned neatly, clung to her form, though small tears marred the fabric where it had been tugged and pulled. Her long black skirt, meant to fall smoothly to her ankles, was covered in footprints, dusty imprints pressed into the fabric by shoes that had stepped on her without care. The hem was frayed, dragged against the rough pavement, a silent testament to what had happened before she had collapsed here.

The girl lay on the cold, rough ground, her body trembling as silent tears slid down her dust-streaked cheeks. Her arms felt weak, her legs barely able to move after everything she had just been through. The air smelled of dirt and damp concrete, the tunnel amplifying every sound—the faint dripping of water from a crack above, the distant roar of a passing car.

"Why… why are you doing this to me?" the girl's voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and fragile. Her eyes, glistening with pain and fear, looked up at the figure standing over her.

A slow, deliberate footstep echoed against the pavement as the other girl took a step closer. Her sleek black hair, twisted into perfect twin drills, bounced slightly with the movement. Her deep brown eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, her expression serene, almost playful. She exuded confidence, standing over the fallen girl like a queen surveying a broken subject. Her figure was striking.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips before she crouched slightly, tilting her head. "Why shouldn't I?" she murmured, her voice smooth, each word laced with an unsettling sweetness. Her gaze flicked over the girl's broken form, drinking in every detail—the dirt-streaked cheeks, the trembling fingers pressed weakly against the ground.

Her lips curled into a smile, sharp yet delicate. "You know, right? How much euphoria I feel whenever I see you like this?" Her voice dipped into something almost intimate, relishing each word. "Beaten, broken… crying like a helpless little child who just had their candy stolen."

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she snapped her fingers.

The two figures beside her—massive men clad in sleek black outfits—moved immediately. Their heavy boots thudded against the pavement as they stepped forward.

Their hands shot down, gripping the girl's arms with brutal strength.

Their fingers dug into her skin, their ironclad grip making escape impossible. The girl gasped as she was yanked upward, her feet barely touching the ground, her body caught between their unrelenting hold. She struggled weakly, but the effort was futile. Their strength was absolute.

The other girl watched, tilting her head ever so slightly, her amusement deepening. She took a step closer, lifting her hand, her slender fingers grazing the girl's cheek—lightly, almost tenderly. Then, she whispered, savoring the name like it was a rare delicacy.

"Rin."

A slow grin spread across her lips.

"Now… let's continue, shall we?"

"Continue what?" the girl on the ground stammered, her voice trembling, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Each syllable came out in broken gasps, her breath hitching as fear wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud.

The other girl let out a soft, almost disappointed sigh before tilting her head. "Really now," she mused, a mockery of concern in her tone. "Don't tell me the guards beat you so badly that you forgot our little playful game?"

As she spoke, her expression shifted—her delicate features twisting into something unhinged. The warmth in her brown eyes faded, replaced by a sharp, manic glint. A slow, eerie smile spread across her lips as she reached forward, her fingers seizing the girl's chin, forcing her to look up.

"You know," she continued, voice sickeningly sweet, "the one where I torture and humiliate you every now and then… all because you rejected my love confession."

Rin's breath hitched. Her lips quivered as she shook her head weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "I… I told you, I don't swing that way," she pleaded, desperation clear in her tone.

The moment those words left her lips, the other girl's expression darkened. The amusement drained from her face, replaced by pure, seething rage. Without hesitation, she lifted her hand and struck Rin across the face with all the strength she could muster.

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the tunnel.

Rin's head snapped to the side, a fresh sting blooming across her cheek. A faint taste of iron filled her mouth. Before she could react, a rough hand grabbed her by the collar, yanking her forward.

The girl's furious gaze bore into her, her grip tightening. The flickering light overhead cast jagged shadows across her face, only making her unhinged expression all the more terrifying.

"Say that again," she hissed.

"I-I-I…" Rin tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her lips trembled, her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, the tears came. She sobbed—deep, uncontrollable cries, her body shaking with each desperate gasp for air.

The other girl's expression twisted with irritation. Her eyes narrowed. Slap!

A sharp sting exploded across Rin's other cheek as the girl struck her again, this time even harder. "Stop crying!"

Rin flinched, choking back her sobs. Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, but she forced herself to stay silent, too afraid to disobey.

The girl's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good."

Then, in a sudden shift, her expression softened—her fingers brushing against Rin's cheek as she gently wiped away the lingering tears. Her voice lowered, taking on a sorrowful tone, as if she were the true victim in all of this.

"You see… I don't like doing this to you." A deep sigh left her lips as she tilted her head, eyes filled with something almost like regret. "You forced me."

She leaned in closer, her warm breath ghosting over Rin's ear. "Do you have any idea what I've done for you?"

Her fingers, which had been caressing Rin's cheek just moments ago, curled into a fist, shaking with barely contained emotion. Her voice quivered with something raw—something dark.

"I killed your parents so you would have no one to rely on except me."

A cold shiver ran down Rin's spine. Her already weakened body stiffened in pure horror.

"I made you a social outcast so that no one would accept you—but me."

Her grip on Rin's collar tightened. Her nails dug into the fabric as she pulled Rin even closer, her deep brown eyes locked onto hers, burning with twisted devotion.

"I tortured and humiliated you over and over—not because I enjoyed it—" her lips trembled, her expression suddenly desperate, "but to instill fear in you, so that the only person you would ever think about is me!"

A tear rolled down her cheek, but the manic gleam in her eyes never faded.

"And see? See what you made me do?" Her voice cracked. "You turned a kind, innocent girl like me into a psycho!"

Her breathing was heavy, erratic. She looked at Rin as if she were the one who had been wronged. As if all of this—every horrifying thing—was Rin's fault.

"And yet… you still don't accept me!" The girl's voice cracked, rising with each word, filled with raw frustration. "Tell me why, why, WHY?!"

Her grip on Rin's collar tightened, her fingers trembling with barely contained rage. "Is it because I'm a woman? Because I don't have a penis? Or is it because you think I'm a freak for falling in love with you—a woman?"

Her deep brown eyes burned with unfiltered emotion—love twisted into obsession, rejection curdling into fury. She wanted an answer. She needed an answer. But before she could press further, a voice from behind interrupted her.

"Mistress Yayoi!"

One of the guards stepped forward, his voice firm but measured. "There is an emergency at home. Your father, Master Sakamoto, has summoned you immediately."

Yayoi's head snapped toward him, her expression darkening. "Why?!" she snapped, irritation lacing her voice.

The guard remained composed. "An important guest has arrived. Your presence is required."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Yayoi's jaw clenched, her breath still uneven from the emotions consuming her. She hated being interrupted—especially now.

Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Damn it."

Her gaze flicked back to Rin, and for a moment, a slow smirk crept onto her lips.

"You're lucky," she murmured, her voice eerily soft. "I have business to take care of."

She crouched down, her fingers grazing Rin's bruised cheek, tilting her head slightly. Then, with a voice laced in both warning and promise, she whispered:

"Three days."

Her grip on Rin's collar tightened briefly before she let go, stepping back. "Three days. Come to me as my obedient lover and wife…"

A twisted, almost affectionate smile formed on her lips as she straightened herself.

"Or things are gonna get really ugly."

With that, Yayoi turned sharply on her heel, and she walked away.

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Rin sat there, her body still trembling, her breath uneven. The ache in her limbs, the sting on her cheeks—it all felt distant compared to the dread clawing at her chest. Her hands curled into fists against the rough pavement as fresh tears spilled down her dust-streaked face.

"What do I do?" she whispered, voice breaking. Then, louder, "What do I do to save myself from her?!"

Desperation consumed her.

She slammed her fist against the ground, again and again, as if the pain in her hands could drown out the terror in her heart.

Then—

"If you don't mind, may I offer you a hand?"

The voice came from behind. Smooth, calm—yet carrying an edge of something unreadable.

Rin's breath hitched. Her body stiffened. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned her head.

A figure stood there, just beyond the flickering glow of the streetlight.

A man.

He was tall and lean, his frame exuding an effortless confidence. His skin was pale—unnaturally so, as if untouched by the sun. Strands of white hair fell loosely over his forehead, the stark contrast making his features even more striking. Dressed in formal black pants and polished shoes, a long black coat draped over a crisp white shirt.

But what stood out the most—what sent an involuntary shiver down Rin's spine—were his eyes.

Crimson. Deep, rich, and unnervingly sharp.

They studied her, as if he could see through every layer of her fear, her pain—her very soul.

Everything about him—from his posture to his expression—radiated an eerie feeling.

Rin swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "Who… who are you?"

The man's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Me?" he mused, tilting his head slightly. "Call me Ezakiel."