I locked the bathroom door behind me.
Click.
No turning back now.
I slumped to the cold marble floor, my silk robe falling unevenly over my left leg, the other exposed to the cruel chill of castle-grade air conditioning. My breath fogged the polished tiles. Not from winter's frost—but from existential dread.
"My name… is Rei."
I said it aloud as if reminding myself I existed outside the orbit of a dozen obsessive women and their elaborate murder-marriage fantasies.
"I am twenty-five years old—mentally. Physically, twenty. Spiritually?" I looked at my reflection in the ornate full-length mirror bolted to the opposite wall. "Deceased."
The mirror-Rei looked back at me with the haunted eyes of a man who just survived three consecutive death-by-cuddles and a tea party laced with truth serum.
I squinted at my own face. "When did I get this gray streak? I look like a wizard whose sole magical ability is barely surviving aggressive affection."
Still sitting on the floor, I crawled toward the mirror, legs dragging like a tragic soap opera villain. My fingers touched the cool glass.
"Is this what madness feels like?" I whispered.
The mirror didn't answer. It cracked instead.
Just a hairline fracture across the corner. I squinted again. No—wait. That wasn't a crack.
That was a stress-induced hallucination.
"Okay," I muttered, "time to TED Talk this thing."
I stood, adjusted my robe like a monk preparing to preach truth to the void, and cleared my throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me for today's bathroom-based mental unraveling. Topic: The Decline of Free Will in the Face of Weaponized Love."
I pointed to the nonexistent PowerPoint slides behind me.
"Exhibit A: Lilia—my big sister. Lovely, nurturing, and tried to sew matching wedding rings into our family crest."
I flipped an imaginary clicker.
"Exhibit B: Princess Seraphina. Elegant, composed, renamed her entire military to 'Rei's Bridal Guard.'"
Click.
"Exhibit C: Drakana. Buff. Breathes fire. Licked me to seal a blood pact. Still waiting for my tetanus shot."
Click.
"Exhibit D: Maid Rosette. Once silent. Now runs a basement shrine featuring my baby teeth. And I quote, 'Our future children will have my eyes and your kneecaps.'"
I paused. The imaginary audience stared. Dead silence.
Then I slammed my palms against the marble sink and leaned into the mirror like a man on the edge.
"I JUST WANTED TO PLAY FARM SIMULATOR IN PEACE!"
The mirror actually cracked this time.
A thin spiderweb line spread across my reflection's forehead.
I stared. It stared back.
We both blinked in defeat.
I lowered my voice and began pacing, barefoot across freezing tiles. "Okay, think, Rei. You were reincarnated into a fantasy world. Okay, fine. There's a system. Sure. You woke up with a harem of ticking time bombs in wedding dresses. Tragic. But survivable."
My pacing quickened.
"But then—THEN—the system says: 'Affection Meter Unlocked!' and all of them are at maximum with blinking red skull emojis?! Is that a good sign? No! That is the emoji you see on poison vials in cartoons!"
I spun and pointed at the mirror again.
"And the worst part? Every time I try to breathe—breathe—they appear. Behind doors. Inside closets. Under my bed. They have mastered the art of teleporting through raw, unfiltered obsession!"
I pressed both hands to my temples and collapsed onto the fluffy bathroom rug.
"I haven't pooped in peace for three days," I whispered into the floor.
A moment of silence passed.
Then a voice echoed inside my head.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Would you like to log today's emotional breakdown as 'Milestone #1: Spiral of Despair'?]
I groaned. "No."
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Too late. Milestone achieved. Title Unlocked: 'Yandere Survivor Lv. 1.']
"Oh, perfect," I grumbled. "Can I trade it for a real teleport scroll?"
[SYSTEM NOTICE: You may unlock Teleportation at Yandere Survivor Lv. 10. Estimated Time: 374 more breakdowns.]
"I hate you."
[SYSTEM NOTICE: 3]
I lay there, face mashed into the rug, until the tiny knock came.
I bolted upright.
Knock-knock.
"Rei~?" It was Princess Seraphina. "I baked you cookies shaped like my future wedding dress~!"
Knock-knock.
"Reiiii~?" Lilia's voice, far too close. "I sewed you a new pillow with my hair woven into the stuffing!"
Knock-knock.
A low snarl. "Open up, human," growled Drakana. "I brought you dragon jerky. It's made from the suitors I incinerated."
Knock-knock.
A whisper that sent chills down my spine. "My Lord… I have sanitized your toothbrush with holy water. And then tasted it… for poison," Rosette murmured.
I shrieked internally.
Then reached for the plunger.
It was ceremonial at this point.
I held it like a scepter.
A toilet brush Excalibur.
"I declare this bathroom… my kingdom."
I stepped into the shower, closed the glass door, and turned on the water. Cold. Brutally cold. Perhaps it would freeze the screaming in my brain.
Behind the steamed glass, I whispered to myself, "One teleport scroll. That's all I ask. One. Emergency scroll under the pillow."
That's when the mirror flickered.
Steam swirled.
And her voice arrived.
"Rei~! You summoned me with your despair again!"
I turned slowly.
There, in the mirror's cracked surface, reclined the divine troll herself—Goddess Eris. Noodles in hand. Chopsticks mid-air.
She slurped loudly. "You look terrible. Like a wet sock that lost a duel with a feral cat. What's this? Breakdown number one? Aww, my baby's growing up."
"I'm filing a celestial complaint."
"You already used up your weekly quota," she said, licking spicy sauce from her lips. "Also, I watched that bathroom TED Talk. You had strong stage presence. But your pacing was too frantic. A little more eye contact with the hallucinations, okay?"
I stared blankly.
She slurped again. "Anyway, survival tip for the day: Smile, nod, and keep a teleport scroll under your pillow. I know you didn't listen last time, so I'm stitching one into your robe's hem. Left corner. You're welcome."
I blinked. "Wait, really?"
"No. That was a lie. You're doomed." She winked. "But a hilarious kind of doomed."
The mirror fizzled. Gone.
I screamed.
A full-bodied, from-the-diaphragm, opera-worthy scream.
And then a gentle clink.
The door lock slowly turned.
I had two seconds.
I dove into the laundry chute.
Down, down I tumbled, bouncing off sheets and spare pantaloons and what I prayed wasn't Lilia's embroidered wedding corset.
Finally, I landed in a linen pile in the basement.
My eyes opened to find five shrine candles… and a Rosette doll staring at me.
I screamed again.
Because sometimes, survival isn't about fighting monsters.
It's about escaping your wives long enough to poop in peace.
To be continued…