Yandere Warning Signs Starting from the Talking Stage (1)
Unexpectedly, Riyeon's call came quite quickly.
I'd bought some women's underwear at the convenience store and was circling the neighborhood near my place, debating whether or not to pick up cigarettes, when the phone rang.
"You're done already?"
A glance at the time told me only a little over ten minutes had passed.
I'd thought women took longer.
But the rough breathing coming through the speaker left no doubt she'd finished for real.
"Oppa’s house… is such a scam… huff…."
Don't ask what the scam is, I told myself.
I repeated it over and over while Riyeon steadied her trembling breaths on the other end.
"What's the scam?"
Some things simply can't be managed by resolve alone.
Just as a woman can't fully control her emotions on certain days, a man with a dick attached will never achieve perfect self-control either.
"I'm lying on Oppa's blanket with my pants off…."
"You came over in a skirt."
"Ah… with my panties off…."
After a brief pause, Riyeon shouted like Columbus discovering a new continent.
"Your scent is everywhere! I almost French-kissed the blanket."
"What the hell are you doing to someone else's blanket!"
"I didn't! Ah, but I did to the pillow."
"My pillow!"
"While I was kissing Oppa's pillow a hair stuck to my tongue, and it's super curly. Is this hair from down there?"
"The pillow's dirty, so don't do that again."
"It's my first time masturbating at Oppa's place, so I completely lost my mind. I'll be careful next time."
Quick reflection was admirable.
But taken at face value, that meant she planned to masturbate at my place again in the future.
"Oppa."
"What? Can I come in now?"
"Is there a coin laundry nearby?"
"Why?"
What kind of question was that?
"Well… smelling Oppa's scent and thinking about Oppa, for the first time I… squirted…."
Even the mighty Riyeon trailed off, too embarrassed to finish.
"Where? On my blanket?"
"…Yeah."
My feelings were complicated on multiple levels.
A beauty whose face and figure would draw compliments anywhere was into me.
The reason was a bit skewed, but from her attitude so far her affection seemed genuine.
The problem was that she liked me so much she went completely off the rails.
As someone who had never received this kind of affection in his life, I was left reeling.
I had the distinct feeling I was about to develop another brand of trauma.
"How much do you even like me?"
"……."
When I asked, dumbfounded, Riyeon fell silent for a moment.
Still catching her breath from the afterglow, she finally blurted it out.
"…Why ask something so embarrassing."
I had no idea why that particular part was embarrassing, but it was cute.
I also had no idea why I found it cute right then.
"Since it's come to this, come out and let's grab a meal."
"Already?"
"What do you mean already—it's five o'clock."
"Ah~ time flies too fast! I haven't even done anything with Oppa yet!"
Haven't done anything?
You did something enormous.
Like squirting in someone else's house, for example.
Oh—does it not count because she did it alone?
"I'll hang the convenience-store bag on the doorknob. Change into that and come out to the main entrance."
"Oppa."
"Yeah."
"Then come ten minutes later."
"Why?"
"If it's here, I think I can go one more time in ten minutes."
"……."
No matter what else happened, that blanket was going straight to dry cleaning.
"No wayyy—! Does this even make sense? If you were going to drop Mizuki at this point, you should've at least run a proper main-heroine route with someone else beforehand! You reduce everyone else to extras and then drop the Bulgogi Incident on us—what the hell are we supposed to do with that?"
We'd eaten and come back.
Riyeon, now wearing fresh panties, strode up with a confident little grin as if nothing had happened and took my hand.
Ha.
The thrills felt good.
Even after the insane conversation we'd just had, holding hands still felt nice.
We'd had a simple meal at a nearby value-for-money udon place, walked a little for a stroll, then returned home.
I swapped out the blanket for a clean one, propped cushions against the wall, lay down, set the laptop on the low table, and told Riyeon to put on whatever she wanted to watch.
She immediately settled her head on my lap and began scrolling through communities with one free hand, pouring out every complaint about Everything without the slightest filter.
Her tone was rough and aggressive, yet not a single point was wrong.
"Right? What the hell was that scumbag Jeonhannan thinking? Until now he was solid at laying foreshadowing and actually paying it off."
"From about twenty chapters ago he kept slipping in ominous Mizuki NTR foreshadowing, and this time he just detonated it."
We united as one in trashing the author, that bastard Jeonhannan.
It was a kind of venting session and a warding ritual at the same time.
Alone, the Mizuki Drug Bulgogi Incident would surface unbidden and torment me; hunting communities or doujinshi would only drive me crazier. Better to gossip about it together while we were both here, two wounded people licking each other's injuries and confirming we weren't the only ones suffering.
A temporary fix, and a pretty lame one, but surprisingly effective.
"That crazy bastard Jeonhannan made the art even better right in the middle of it—he even did the backgrounds by hand."
"That was hand-drawn?! Analog?"
"Insane, right? The cherry-blossom background was so unnecessarily gorgeous and cozy that Oppa, I honestly thought it was hinting at a happy future with Mizuki."
"Riyeon. At this point, improving art quality is just the default setting for NTR, isn't it?"
"Even Oppa—if you say shit like that I'll get mad for real. The ones with good art styles keep mass-producing NTR and it drives me insane."
It really was a huge question.
Why did people who drew so well keep touching NTR?
Riyeon floated a new hypothesis.
"Maybe they can draw but don't have the brains to cook up stories? Plenty of author teams split art and story. For underground or amateur stuff, finding a separate story writer is hard, so they just draw the most stimulative NTR they can."
"That doesn't explain the underground authors who sometimes suck you in completely and then gut you. Everything is the prime example of exactly what happened to us."
"Those motherfuckers should all die."
"Riyeon, tone down the swearing."
I scolded her because the language felt too harsh for everyday use.
It wasn't as if I never swore—when I got angry I could get pretty foul myself—but mixing it so casually into ordinary conversation made you the kind of person who used vulgar vocabulary without even noticing. She needed the reminder.
Riyeon took my hand, pressed it against her cheek, and looked up at me.
"Sorry? I'll be careful."
Lips slightly pouting, eyes drooping, voice laced with a soft nasal tone.
Not provocation—pure, deliberate aegyo.
Damn, cute.
I left my hand where it was, and she kept nuzzling her cheek against it like a pillow.
"We're pretty natural together, huh."
"It's fate."
"You're a fatalist?"
"Not completely, but kind of."
"You believe connections, success or failure, and endings are all predetermined?"
"I said not completely. Success and endings change depending on how hard you work and the opportunities that come your way. But for connections, I think fate exists."
A fatalist limited to connections only.
Same type as people who read tarot or saju and cherry-pick only the good parts about themselves.
I was the type who zeroed in on risks, so we diverged a little here.
"Oppa, why don't you ask why I'm only a fatalist about connections?"
"Hmm~. Somehow I feel like I should just coolly go 'I see' here to seem more adult-like?"
"If this were a manga that would be correct, but I like it better when Oppa just keeps talking with me."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Ask me more questions. Be more curious about me."
"Why?"
"Because no one except Oppa has ever been curious about me."
"If you offered to talk about yourself, plenty of people would be interested."
"All of them would only be after my face and body."
Riyeon reached up and stroked my cheek in turn.
Not the teasing little taps someone used to give, but the careful cupping of someone who genuinely wanted to touch.
"Women just want to tear me down, and men don't care what kind of person I am or what I think. They just want to fuck me. Am I crazy? What crime would I be committing against the man I eventually marry by casually throwing my body around?"
"There's that saying, though. Date a lot and then get married."
"That's something only people with no eye for people say."
"Because you don't know a person until you've experienced them."
Riyeon flipped her palm and began stroking with the back of her hand.
It felt nice, like combing a dog's fur over and over.
"That kind of thing…."
She bristled a little at my words.
"That kind of thing—I already experienced it all when I was young."
"What?"
My heart dropped cold and heavy.
Already experienced it all when she was young?
Then with other people of the opposite sex back then….
"No no no! It's not that! I misspoke!"
"It's not that?"
At my suspicious tone Riyeon's expression turned truly urgent.
"Not that I did anything with a guy…! Just that kind of form… ah, fuck…!"
Harsh language, but I let it slide.
That wasn't the important part right now.
"Oppa."
Riyeon looked at me with complete seriousness.
"I'm a Sim-Gi-Che Virgin. I'll guarantee that much."
Sim-Gi-Che theory—a true unicorn…!
But when this true unicorn staked her entire mind, body, and spirit on the claim, it meant I could actually believe her.
"Lie."
"What…?"
"It's a lie."
"Oppa… you don't believe me…?"
Huh…?
It had been a joke, but Riyeon was so shocked her voice even went hoarse.
Yikes—I needed to wrap the joke up before something bigger happened.
"You've definitely scraped and bought merch of male characters you called your boyfriend, right?"
"Eh?"
"Isn't that mind non-virgin?"
"……."
"Riyeon?"
"…No."
Uh-oh. Her eyes were reddening.
Tears started welling and glistening.
I'd touched the wrong thing.
That was my call.
I was wrong, so I had to apologize fast.
What should I do?
It lasted only an instant, but I pondered and pondered.
And arrived at one answer.
The only dating knowledge I possessed came from manga and novels. I had no idea if this would work.
Even so, I took the hand she still had against my cheek.
Smooch.
I pressed a slightly longer kiss to the back of her hand, then met her eyes and apologized.
"Sorry. I'm sorry."
I knew.
This was a cheat key only handsome male leads got to use.
But this was the entire extent of my knowledge.
With her head on my lap I couldn't even drop into a dogeza.
Nervous, I waited for her reaction.
"…Eut… heut."
She let out a thin, trembling moan, then gently averted her eyes.
In a tiny voice she finally voiced her resentment toward me.
"…Unfair."
Huh? It worked?
How much did she like me to show such a weak side?
My self-esteem shot up in an instant.
Barely suppressing a victor's grin, I watched as Riyeon wiped her tears and declared:
"In exchange, I'm sleeping over tonight."
What victor? This just meant I'd lost.