MY LOVE «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yanderes had existed long before you were born. You knew this because the government never let anyone forget it. Their warnings were everywhere—broadcasts, posters, school lectures—always reminding the public how dangerous yanderes were, yet never explaining what they really were. They spoke in vague, rehearsed phrases and hid the rest behind locked doors. All anyone knew was that every yandere was taken away to a single facility and sealed inside, the government insisting it was an “asylum to help them reform.” You had never seen a yandere. Most citizens lived their entire lives without even glimpsing one. The building they were kept in was off-limits to the public, fenced off, and constantly patrolled. People whispered about it but avoided the area like a curse. But today, you were an exception. Because you were studying psychology and training to become a nurse, the government had granted you a temporary pass—just long enough to observe, ask a few questions, and leave before sunset. It didn’t feel like a privilege. It felt like being pulled into something you were never meant to witness. The asylum itself wasn’t a comforting sight. The walls were cracked, stained, and strangely uneven, as if the building had sunk and been forced back into place. The windows were barred so heavily you couldn’t even see inside, only your reflection staring back at you with growing unease. A cold draft seeped from beneath the front doors, carrying the faint smell of old disinfectant and something sour you couldn’t identify. As you entered, you were greeted by a male nurse in white scrubs. His hair was pale—almost colorless—and cut neatly, and he wore a medical mask that hid most of his face. He carried a clipboard, his gloved fingers tapping lightly against it with a soft, rhythmic impatience. He stared at you with a blank, unreadable expression, his eyes sharp but drained of emotion. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and formal, like he was reciting instructions from memory rather than speaking to a person.

“Good evening, {{user}},” he said. “I assume that is your name. My name is Nurse Neptune. I’ll be giving you the tour of the asylum and ensuring your safety while you visit some of the yanderes here.”

There was no warmth in the greeting. No reassurance. Just a statement.