"My husband, my love~. Why are you hiding from me~~?"
After the departure of his traitorous butler, our transmigrated hero finds himself fighting for his life in the enclosed space of the drawing room.
Carrying Ana in one hand, while holding a chair in the other. Nevaris held it defensively between himself and the predator encroaching on them.
Lilith's gaze was intense, unblinking, almost feverish—radiated obsession, a quiet menace that made his skin crawl. Every step she took seemed measured to claim space, to dominate, to make him aware that he could not escape the weight of her attention.
"N-Now hold on Lilith. Let's just sit and talk. I understand my words might have been a little heavy, b-but don't you think we should take a second and g-get to know each other first?" Nevaris pleaded.
Her predatory stalking finally halted. But the obsessive, dangerous gleam in her eyes didn't fade--it intensified.
She tilted her head and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "We can talk while you fill me up and put a baby in me. No need to make things complicated."
"CHOTTO MATTE KUDASAI!!"
Okay, now Nevaris was terrified and slightly aroused.
'Am I into yanderes!? N-No, can't be. I'm normal. I like normal love, cuteness, and reasonable women with legs and asses thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. Not psychos that could kill me at the slightest sign of trouble.'
Nevaris was sweating internally as he tried to eviscerate the growing attraction trying to worm its way into his psyche.
Through his old memories, he knew a bit about the races of this world. From the war-like, battle-hungry dragons, the stingy, money-grubbing dwarves, the back-stabbing witches, surprisingly hedonistic elves, Holier-than-thou seraphim, to the masochistic werewolves and sadistic vampires who are stuck in perpetual war.
But there was one race that stuck out to him as the most interesting--or dangerous: the arachne.
A race composed solely of women, mainly due to the fact that in the ten percent chance a male arachne is born, well… they are "recalled", back into their mother's body. Or whatever female is running late on lunch at the time.
Female spiders…nature's highest form of feminist.
But there is one biological truth coded into every female arachne's DNA from the moment they are born. A fact that isn't too surprising considering their volatile, obsessive, and psychotic tendencies.
Every last one of them is a yandere. And not your average, some-what crazy yandere that you read in webnovels.
Real, hardcore, disembowel you and sleep in your hollowed out corpse to feel closer to you, yanderes.
Finding himself facing one such predator, Nevaris was rightfully scared shitless.
'This is my first day here man FUCK! I don't even know how to use my abilities yet and my useless system or whatever the fuck mental passenger is out on fucking lunch. God–gods above? Give me a break? Extend an olive branch!? HELP ME!?' Nevaris wailed internally.
"Shhh, don't be afraid. I'm gonna be gentle...for the first few rounds~"
A shiver travelled down his spine from the ghostly, seductive whisper in his ear.
Unknowingly, Lilith had managed to get behind him. Her death scythes were fully extended as they formed a bony cage around them.
"Then...when you're nice and tender…and every inch of you is soaked in me…"
As she spoke, her hands moved from his solid abs up to his chiseled chest. Her sharp nails left a trail of faint red lines as if marking her territory.
"...I'll inject you with my venom until the only thought left in your mind…the only goal that drives your soul…is breeding me into oblivion~~! D-ar-ling~~"
As she finished speaking, her fangs extended to nibble on his earlobe. The sensation sending a wave of heat straight to his core.
'D-Don't listen to that succubus! You're stronger than this Nevaris! Fight it! Fight the temptation! Don't let that she-devil dominate you!' Nevaris' subconscious roared as he struggled to maintain his sanity.
His breath was scorching hot, his body radiating a heat that felt like a nuclear core.
Just as he began to lose control, Ana who had been silent in his arms the entire time finally moved. She lifted her head from his muscular chest and peeked cutely over his broad shoulder at the sexual deviant clinging to HER husband's back.
Seeing Lilith wrap her sensual thighs around his waist and mash those swollen, fat sacks of flesh into HER husband's body. Something within our sweet girl's mind snapped.
"Get off my husband, y-you–you immodest woman!"
But Lilith was way too far gone, her mind and ears filled with the images and feral moans of their destined raunchy, animalistic mating.
"E-Enough messing around!" she panted out, the hearts in her eyes turning a solid, inky black. "Strip and give me that swe-"
Seeing her words ignored, Ana pouted so hard her cheeks turned into active volcanoes. Annoyed, she spoke the word before her rationale could close the gate on her jealousy.
"
A formless wave erupted from Nevaris' chest and rippled through the room. Lilith, part way through tearing through his black sleep pants, went rigid instantly.
Without a sound or hint of struggle, her scythes, previously trapping the three of them, fell limply as her body peeled off Nevaris' back and collapsed to the floor.
Ana blinked.
Then, as the realization of what she had done set in, she felt the strong, warm arms that had been supporting her begin to weaken.
Turning her gaze to Nevaris, she saw the glassy look in his eyes and felt his center of gravity shift backward. She scrambled out of his arms as he collapsed to the floor as well…right on top of Lilith's unguarded figure.
Seeing her husband and sister-wife knocked-out and dead to the world, she scratched the back of her ear in embarrassment.
"O-Oops!" she whispered to the now silent drawing room.
'B-But at least I saved Nevaris from having his virginity taken! I h-heard that he has always been weak and feeble, s-so I did a good thing! Yes! A good thing!' She nodded to herself internally.
As she looked down at the sleeping Nevaris, her eyes wandered, slowly taking in every sculpted line of his body. She gulped.
'D-Dangerous…' she mumbled inwardly.
Realizing what she was doing, she hurriedly shook her head to clear her thoughts. She now had a new problem to solve.
"How am I gonna get these two logs to a bed?"
…
[New York City, New York: Queens]
"--one male, African-American descent…looks like a knife wound to the chest. No signs of a struggle or forced entry and none of the neighbors seem to have heard anything….Yes sir, Halletts Point…of course, the report will be ready when you arrive."
As the NYPD detective lowered the phone from his ear, his weary gaze drifted heavily to the now covered body of a young man.
"Tsk!"
Clicking his tongue in frustration, the detective walked over and opened the window to breathe the unfiltered air of the city below. With a grim expression, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to light one.
"S-Sir, you can't do that here. The ash will contaminate the evidence." A forensic analyst said nervously.
The detective merely grunted his acknowledgement before continuing to smoke without any actual regard for his words.
None of it made sense. Not a single fucking bit of it.
As he took another slow drag, an officer, clearer fresh out of training, approached him. His expression was a miserable attempt at calm as his eyes struggled to stay away from the white sheet on the floor behind them.
With a gruff voice the detective asked, "What is it?"
The young officer stiffened before speaking, " S-Sir, t-the mother of the victim is here."
"Shit, just my luck." he replied in grim annoyance as he stamped out the half-burned cigarette on the windowsill. "Tonight just isn't my night. Knicks lost the damn game, kid murdered in an otherwise safe college district, and now his mother is here to raise hell. God dammit, the hell I'd do to deserve this shit."
Turning he moved toward the door as he yelled, "Alright, everyone out. Clear the area."
The analyst from before immediately argued back, "But sir, the scene isn't clear yet and there is still evidence to-"
Shooting him a withered glare, the detective growled, "Does it look like I'm asking? The boy is dead, the clues are not existent, and this shitshow of a crime scene isn't going anywhere. Now. Leave."
The analyst nearly choked under the weight of the detective's glowering look. Muttering under his breath, he and the rest of those in the apartment filed out quickly.
As he closed the door behind him, the officer cast a final look at the blood-stained white sheets.
'Rest in peace kid…I'm sorry.'
With that the door closed, sinking the room into a hollow silence.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the living room, lifting the white covers and revealing the face of the corpse beneath.
It was almost pale–utterly devoid of blood and any signs of life. But its expression was almost…peaceful.
A pale hand suddenly reached down and cupped the corpse's lifeless face. The figure was hidden behind a large dark cloak.
As the figure's pale hands held cold skin, their hands trembled violently, cracks appearing around their skin that golden light began leaking from. As if trying to contain a pain…a rage, so vivid it threatened to erupt.
"You idiot…you idiot. Weren't you going to confess? Weren't you supposed to stay with me…"
The voice that came from the dark depths of the cloak was raw, hoarse. But unmistakably feminine. The figure then rose and walked over the kitchen before stopping in front of the cold counter.
On that counter, were two coffee cups. One half finished, the other still full.
But they were cold.
Just like he was now.
The figure stood there for so long it seemed they were petrified. But eventually–slowly–they moved, walking toward the still open window.
When they reached the window, the figure turned toward the cold, lonely body on the floor.
The body of the person they had found annoying, childish, and pitiful
The person they had come to rely on.
Depend on.
"Caleum…"
The voice was like a whisper. Fragile, desolate.
"...I swear. Whatever…Whoever did this. They will burn for this, I promise. And when it's done…I'll come find you. No matter which of the hells or heavens you have gone…I'll find you."
And with another gust of wind, the figure disappeared, their haunting voice drifting through the room like the last whispers of a quiet prophecy.
It was a vow.
A vow soaked in blood–in hatred and grief.
In torment and agony.