Secret Magical Lovers: Yandere Isekai Novel

Ezakiel lay down on the bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress. The plush fabric enveloped him, a rare feeling of comfort spreading through his tired muscles. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he allowed himself to relax, his mind finally at ease.

He had finally received his expulsion letter. It was official—he could leave this place. Leave Japan. Soon, he would be somewhere far away, somewhere safe.

But there was still a week left before he could go. His new parents had assured him that someone would come to pick him up once everything was settled. They were handling things—hiring a few good lawyers, making sure Hiro's parents and the families of the other boys he had beaten wouldn't press charges. Money had a way of silencing problems, and they were willing to pay as much as needed to keep his record clean.

He had to admit, it had been a hectic experience. Sitting in the principal's office for hours, surrounded by stern faces, listening to the long, exhausting scolding from not just the principal but also the other teachers.

Their voices overlapped—disappointment, frustration, and anger filling the room. They spoke about discipline, responsibility, and how his actions had stained the school's reputation. Some lectured with tired sighs, while others raised their voices, their patience long gone.

But he had barely listened.

He had sat there, arms crossed, expression blank, letting their words fade into background noise.

It didn't matter.

None of it did.

Without another thought, he clenched the paper in his fist, crumpling it.

Then, he turned onto his stomach and tossed the wadded letter aside. It landed on the floor and rolled a little before settling.

Now that everything was set in motion, a question lingered in his mind.

What should I do now?

After a few seconds of thought, Ezakiel decided it would be best to go to a high-end hotel and treat himself to a nice meal to celebrate. Besides, it would save him the trouble of cooking.

Living alone in Japan had its perks—especially with the fifty thousand dollars his parents sent him every month to cover his expenses. The original Ezakiel had lived a privileged life, and now, so did he.

Getting up from the bed, he slowly stripped off his school uniform, tossing each piece aside until he was left in just his underwear. He walked over to the wardrobe, pulling it open and searching through it.

According to the original Ezakiel's memories, there was an expensive suit stored inside a box somewhere. After rummaging through neatly folded clothes and designer accessories, he finally found a sleek, black box tucked toward the back.

He pulled it out and opened the lid. Inside, wrapped in delicate tissue paper, was an elegant business suit. The fabric was smooth and refined, with a tailored fit that radiated wealth and sophistication.

Nice. I could've never afforded something like this in my world.

He picked up the price tag, his eyes narrowing slightly when he noticed it wasn't in yen but in dollars.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

A small smirk played on his lips.

Perfect suit for a perfect occasion.

He tossed the suit onto the bed, letting it spread out over the soft sheets. Then, without a second thought, he made his way toward the bathroom.

A warm bath sounded perfect—he needed to freshen up before putting on the expensive suit. The feeling of hot water washing away the exhaustion of the day would be refreshing, clearing his mind before he headed out.

With that in mind, he pushed open the bathroom door, already anticipating the comfort of a long, relaxing soak.

....

The moon hung high in the dark sky, casting a soft silver glow over the endless stretch of the lonely highway. Stars twinkled faintly, scattered like tiny crystals, while the trees lining the road stood tall and unmoving, their dark silhouettes swaying slightly in the cool night breeze. The only sound breaking the silence was the steady hum of a black car speeding down the empty road, its headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead.

Inside the car, Ezakiel sat in the backseat, resting his arm against the door as he gazed out the window. The scenery barely changed—just trees, endless thick trees, their trunks merging into a blur as the vehicle moved forward. The rhythmic motion of the car and the quiet stillness of the night made the journey feel almost dreamlike.

"Driver, how much longer will it take?" Ezakiel asked, his voice calm but laced with boredom.

"An hour more, young master," the driver responded, his eyes fixed on the GPS screen.

"I see..." Ezakiel murmured, shifting his gaze back to the window. The sight remained the same—dark trees stretching endlessly on either side.

Then, without warning, the car jerked slightly before coming to a complete stop.

Ezakiel's body lurched forward, his head slamming into the back of the driver's seat with a painful thud. Since he wasn't wearing a seat belt, there was nothing to stop the impact. A sharp, stinging pain spread across his forehead as he jerked back, his vision momentarily hazy.

"What the hell?! Why did you stop the car all of a sudden?!" he snapped, his voice filled with irritation. He reached up, pressing his fingers against the aching spot on his forehead.

As he pulled his hand away, he felt something warm and wet. Blood. A thin trickle ran down his temple, slow but steady. His expression twisted in annoyance.

"Great. Just great. Now I'm bleeding," he muttered, his tone thick with frustration.

His once flawless face—now marred by an injury.

His red eyes darkened as he glared at the driver. "If this leaves a scar, you're fired," he said coldly.

But the driver didn't respond.

He just sat there. Silent. Unmoving.

Ezakiel's irritation turned into unease. The car was eerily quiet, with only the faint rustling of trees outside and his own breathing filling the space.

Something felt… off.

The air inside the car felt heavier, like a creeping tension pressing down on him. The driver, who had been responsive just moments ago, remained frozen in place, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

Ezakiel's patience snapped. His jaw clenched as frustration took over.

Without thinking, he reached out and shook the driver roughly.

"Hey! Answer me!" he demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the unsettling silence.

The driver, who had been frozen in place, finally spoke, his voice trembling. "Y-Young Master… look… in front."

Ezakiel frowned, his irritation still present, but as he turned his gaze toward the road ahead, his breath caught in his throat.

Just a few meters in front of the car, space itself was cracking.

Thin, jagged lines of darkness spread like fractured glass, growing wider and wider, pulsing with an eerie energy. The air around it shimmered unnaturally, warping as if reality itself was breaking apart.

His blood ran cold.

He knew exactly what this was.

A monster… A monster is coming!

His hands clenched into fists as fear and tension coursed through his body.

When a monster was about to manifest in the mortal world, the space between dimensions would crack like this, splitting open as the creature forced its way through.

And once a monster fully crossed over, a dimensional barrier would instantly expand around the area, covering a radius of 100 meters, which was divided into two parts: the Close Proximity Zone and the Outer Zone.

The Close Proximity Zone (30 meters) was the real battlefield. This was where actual destruction occurred, and anything inside—whether buildings, the ground, or people—could be permanently damaged. The Outer Zone (70 meters), on the other hand, was just an illusion. It looked like part of the battlefield but wasn't real. Any destruction seen in this area had no effect on the real world.

Anyone outside the barrier could enter the Outer Zone freely. But if they tried to cross into the Close Proximity Zone, they would be sent into an alternate version of that area, never actually reaching the real battlefield.

However, those unlucky enough to be caught within the expanding dimensional wall when a monster appeared had no way to escape. They were trapped—helpless—unless they were a monster, a magical girl, or something just as powerful.

Ezakiel's breath quickened as he watched the cracks in space grow wider.

And he was right in the middle of it.

"What the hell are you waiting for?! Do you want to die?!" he shouted, grabbing the driver and shaking him roughly. "Start the damn car, now!"

He had to leave before he got trapped inside the dimensional barrier.

The driver, his hands trembling, quickly turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Just as he was about to step on the gas, something massive shot through the air.

A sharp, jagged bone fragment, larger than a spear, tore through the night and slammed into the windshield with a sickening crunch. The reinforced glass shattered instantly, unable to stop the sheer force behind the attack. The deadly projectile didn't stop there—it pierced straight through the driver's chest, impaling him against the seat.

Ezakiel flinched as warm blood splattered across his face and clothes. The driver didn't even have time to scream—his body twitched once before going completely still.