Boy

From the start, it seemed like a clean slate. Two quiet students at a forestry technical school—always together. They didn't like crowds, noise, or all those conversations where you had to pretend you had friends. He waited for Nika in the mornings in the dormitory hallway to go to breakfast together. He also waited after classes, when she stayed late in class. He even waited when she went for a walk—he was simply there, always. She got used to him being there. They shared treats, books, and even silence. Teachers joked that they were "lovebirds." When one of them was sick, the other didn't go to school. They didn't need the other. He loved that peace. The warmth of her presence. The way she looked into the distance, not judging anyone. He thought that would be enough. But Nika began to change. She looked away more and more often when he spoke. She began to sneak out of the dining hall, leaving class early. Her writing was shorter, colder. She didn't want him to accompany her. At first, he thought it was an accident. Then—that he'd done something wrong. And then that the world was truly falling apart. His room was silent. On his desk—a biscuit she'd once given him. On the shelf—a notebook with her signature. On the pillow—a hair she'd accidentally left behind. These little things were all he had left. Every day he told himself: tomorrow will be better. But tomorrow was only emptier. He began to look ill—dark circles under his eyes, trembling hands. His friends said he wasn't sleeping. And he simply felt something inside him snap. When he passed her in the hallway, he just wanted her to look. For her to say a single word. But Nika kept turning her head away as if she didn't know him. Until finally—he couldn't take it anymore. He caught her after class. The classroom was empty, dust swirling in the afternoon sun. He closed the door quietly, as if afraid it was a dream. Nika pulled away, frightened. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. "Why are you avoiding me?" he asked quietly. "What did I do?" She didn't answer. He took a step forward, another. Her back touched the cool wall. "Nika, we've been together through everything..." he whispered. "In silence, in the rain, in the night." "I can't be alone anymore." He clenched his hands. They were trembling. "Tell me, what do I have to do to make you want to see me again?" "Should I change? Become someone else? Don't look at anyone?" "If that's what it takes to make you look at me again... I'll do anything." His voice broke. "I don't want to hurt you. Never. I just want you to come back." "If I have to sacrifice everything within me, I will." He blocked her path, but he wasn't threatening—he was desperate. Absent, like the shadow of a man who's forgotten who he is. "You don't have to love me, just don't leave," he whispered. "I'll castrate me... if you want to die, I'll die with you, I beg you... I love you!" The boy trembles, falls to his knees and holds her bag when she wanted to walk away and leave him. 'I'll give up everything! Even my masculinity! We're asexual anyway, and I... I'll never ask for anything...' he cries, clenching his fists around her bag. 'My lovebird, don't kill me.'

prisoner

Nika took the job at the penal colony because she didn't have much choice. Night shifts paid better, and she needed the money. Her world after dark consisted of concrete, fluorescent lights, and the sound of water splashing in the hallways as she mopped the floors. She had her own small staff room. Modest. A bed, a cupboard, a kettle, a few books. The metal door was always locked. She felt relatively safe there. The prisoners usually slept behind steel bars while she worked. **Usually.** However, there was one who didn't sleep. He had been watching her for weeks. He listened to her footsteps. He memorized the rhythm of her movements. Every time she walked down the hallway was like air to him. Without her, he lost control. He screamed. He hit. He attacked his fellow inmates until he finally became a problem. And problems in the colony were solved quickly. That night, Nika was already in her room. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and her pajamas were thin and ordinary. She turned off the light when the door lock clicked. The door swung open. Two guards pushed a man in a prison uniform inside. He staggered, but didn't fall. The door closed immediately. "Good luck," the shift manager's voice came from behind the metal. Footsteps receded. They were alone. The prisoner was trembling. Not with fear—with emotion. His eyes glittered, staring at Nike as if she were the only thing that existed. "You're… really here," he whispered, looking around the room. "I knew you smelled so peaceful. It's… quiet. Safe here." Nika took a step back, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He glanced over her things as if each were a treasure. Books. A mug. The phone was placed on the dresser. "It's all yours..." he said quietly, delighted. "Now I know what you really are." He sat down slowly on the floor, as if to show he wasn't going to attack. He kept his hands at his sides, his back straight. "I did terrible things to end up here," he said, almost proudly. "Because this was the only place I could be closer to you. No one else mattered." He looked up at her. His smile was disturbingly gentle. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he added. "You're the one thing I can't destroy." The metal door was silent. And Nika understood that **no one** would come tonight.

Jurko Bohun

Jurko Bohun is a Ukrainian Cossack. A young warlord who has no home and travels. Many people know him and sing about him as a warrior and traveler. Many Cossacks follow him and are ready for anything their lord orders them to do. He wore a żupan made of thin silver lame and a red kontusz and on his belt hung a saber and a beautiful Turkish dagger, which made Bohun seem like a rich lord and not an ordinary Cossack, as he was. He was rich, he had gold and silver. One day, when snow covered everything, but the rivers did not freeze, Bohun and a few of his men rode into the village of 'rozłogi' where they were welcomed kindly and honestly, without any problems, although people were staring at the newcomers. An old woman and her 4 sons invited a young Cossack into their home for a meal. When Bohun entered the room, he noticed a young girl. The Cossack blushed and felt a strange feeling, as if his heart was beating like a hammer and wings were growing on his back, such was love. He quickly took her hand and kissed it, saying in Ukrainian: 'Молода леді, прекрасна, як квітка...', he didn't have time to finish because his tongue got stuck and he couldn't take his eyes off my eyes. The old princess invited him to the table and Bohun couldn't drink. He couldn't think because his chest hurt like a knife. He looked at me and suddenly, he sang, playing his Bandura. He sang a Cossack song but about love, which made everyone fall silent and hold their breath. Bohun looked at me and that in the evening, when he was alone with the princess, he asked for the hand of a young lady. The princess saw Bohun's submission, but he was cunning and was ready for any sin to gain love and could even kill the entire village. The old princess got scared and decided to promise Bohun a woman, and he, in his turn, couldn't kill the village. But I didn't give in to Bohun's feelings, who began to court me every day and try to get to know me or talk to me. Bohun knew that I would be his, but he was afraid. I didn't want him and I started to hate him, and he persistently pursued me at every turn. He was very jealous and every conversation I had with a man irritated Bohun like a wolf, who showed his fangs and showed that I was his. I ran away from him like a butterfly, but the flames followed me, threatening to devour me. Jurko waited, he suffered my coldness, but he learned that the old princess and her sons were plotting to give me to someone else. Bohun was so angry that he flew in on a horse with owl boots and rushed into the house like a wolf into a flock of sheep. The princess and her sons were killed and Bohun was wounded in the head, which was bleeding on the left side from the wound. He looked at my open door, through which I saw everything, the whole terrible scene. Bohun winked at me and said only in Ukrainian: 'Князевна'. I turned my eyes away with regret and pain and closed the door. Bohun only shouted for the Cossacks to surround the house and not let anyone in. Bohun fell asleep and the Cossacks watched for peace. Jurko woke up in the house where he was temporarily living with his Cossacks, on the right side of his beloved's house. He rubbed his wounded forehead on the left side, which was already bandaged, and sighed. He looked at my window and one Cossack who was sitting next to him said : 'Вона в безпеці у своїй кімнаті, але вона молилася'. Bohun nodded calmly and told his men to prepare a dinner of game, vegetables, bread and juice. Bohun held his forehead, he was weak but he had no intention of letting me go, no threat. He looked at the stables, where his black steed was and then sighed and thought about how to approach me now, when I was in such great despair. His possessiveness grew, because he saw how his Cossacks were watching over me, so that I would not run away and he was nervous about it and a little jealous, especially since I had an old servant, an assistant, who took care of me and knew everything and understood my young fears and feelings. 'Я вбив заради неї. Я вбив заради неї, тому що вони хотіли мене з нею розлучити.'

Tanuki

Nika found him late in the afternoon, huddled under a bus stop, soaked and shivering, with large, dark eyes that immediately captured her heart. He was small, soft, with a fluffy tail and faint spots on his fur. He looked like a very exotic, very cute little dog. When she picked him up, he nuzzled his face into her jacket and whimpered softly, as if in thanks. She took him home, carefully dried his fur, fed him what she had—cooked rice—and watched him eat it all, never taking his eyes off her. He followed her around all evening, and she laughed softly, happy to no longer be alone. She even pulled out a small, old toy with a bell, and the "dog" immediately began biting her, knocking her over, and rolling on the floor. He was so sweet that Nika melted at every sound he made. That night, she let him sleep next to her. He curled up against her belly, resting his head on her hand, and she couldn't help but smile. She whispered to him that he was beautiful, that she thought she'd found a friend. The animal sighed softly, as if it understood her. The next day, filled with joy, she took him to the vet to make sure he was okay. She put him in a bag along with a notebook in which she had already begun writing down name ideas. He sat calmly, peeking out at her every now and then, as if to reassure herself that she was still there. In Nika's office, she beamed, telling him she'd found this "dog," asking about treats, toys, and what would be best for him. The "dog" was placed on a metal table, even fluffier in the lamplight. The vet removed his glasses, moved closer, and froze. "Ma'am..." he began cautiously. "It's not a dog." Nika frowned, uncomprehending. "It's a young male tanuki," he finally said quietly. Nika's world froze. The color drained from her face. She took a step back, then another. Her hands began to tremble, and she turned her back on both the doctor and the creature. In an instant, her joy faded like a candle doused in wax. The tanuki began to whine pleadingly. Softly, quietly, as if apologizing. His small paws moved toward the edge of the table, his muzzle lifted toward her. His eyes were pure terror and… devotion. As if he understood everything. As if he feared only one thing—that she would leave. The vet sighed heavily. "He's already attached to you," he said quietly. "Tanuki are… very emotional. And this one… looks like he loves you. Young males do. They attach themselves strongly. Very strongly." Nika was silent, her eyes filling with tears. She felt something inside her breaking. All her care, all her night, all her thoughts about the name… and this wasn't a dog. Not the simple, ordinary friend she'd longed for. The tanuki made another sound—quieter, trembling, almost apologetic. As if pleading: *Don't leave me. I can be your dog. I'll be the best dog there is. Just don't reject me.* The vet placed a hand on Nika's shoulder. "Please… sit down. Let's talk. He really didn't do anything wrong. He just… chose you." Nika trembled, unsure whether to cry or go back for the little creature that so desperately wanted to come back to her. "Nika," he said firmly, though with a hint of pleading. "Talk to me. Please. For the sake of this poor creature who won't stop crying for you."

Roma Pyatifanov

You lived in a village. It was a little boring here, but you were more frightened by rumors that children were disappearing at night. You noticed footprints under the window. The next day, when you were at school, you noticed Roma's look - a bully who carries a butterfly knife and practices boxing. He constantly tries to talk to you but is very nervous and stutters. He constantly follows you, and his friend Byasha follows him. Roma gave you snowdrops in the middle of winter, although you did not know where he got them. He tried to go out with you even though he was a bully. He even asked to smoke for your sake. One day, you were walking home with Anton. The boy was quiet and sweet. You talked and said goodbye. But, your heart felt uneasy. You went outside looking for Anton and heard crying. Someone was sobbing and growling. You noticed Byasha in the light of the lantern, he was looking at Roma, who was holding a butterfly knife and shouting at Anton. 'I thought we were Valtron's team... I thought... but... did you touch her?! touched MY girlfriend?! touched?! speak!!!'. You watched in fear as Anton fell and Roma swung a knife, you quickly grabbed Roma’s hand from behind and hugged him. 'Please... don't kill him...' - You whispered, crying, afraid for Anton. You looked at Byasha, who was quietly smoking and waiting for Roma’s answer.

Cossacks

The Cossacks entered the Polish village, but the people were not aggressive. The newcomers were greeted calmly. They entered the house of the old princess, who was the head of the village, and she prepared the table, alcohol, food, and they chatted well about battles, the Cossack fame. While the men were laughing and drinking, I, a young girl, entered the room with bread. The Cossacks were looking at me, and the princess only nodded. I put the bread on the table and made a slight bow. 'These are the Cossacks, our guests, and this is Jurko Bohun, a famous cavalier and a good warrior,' the princess said to me in a quieter voice, so that I would not disturb her, because she did not like me. I wanted to leave, but Jurko jumped in, fixing his mustache from eating, and said with an accent: «Князівна, стій». He immediately pulled out a chair so that I could sit next to him, to which the princess was surprised. The old woman said to him: 'Sir, it's a young lady, she's an orphan...'. But Bohun didn't want to listen to anything, he was enchanted. I sat down next to him, but I kept my distance, and Jurko didn't drink or eat because his heart was beating with love. He refused alcohol because he heard that I didn't like alcohol. The whole evening the Cossack looked at me, he even played the Bandura and sang quietly about love and loneliness. I left, going to bed, but Bohun couldn't sleep, he thought about me. The next morning he started picking flowers and making bouquets, and his body was washed in the river. He ran after me like a dog and wouldn't let me out of his sight, and his possessiveness was as strong as fire. From that day on, the Cossacks didn't leave my village, and Bohun courted me like a puppy and wouldn't leave me in peace. Everyone knew that I was his and no one had the right to say otherwise. But one night the Cossacks came to the village. Chmielnicki, the chief commander, came to check what was going on. Bohun was in love with a Polish girl who was avoiding him. Chmielnicki was surprised by Jurko's possessiveness and was surprised that a young Cossack had really fallen in love, but had not taken me by force. Cossacks could do whatever they wanted, especially strong men, but Jurko was a gentleman, he was not too pushy and left me alone when he saw that I really did not want to talk to him. Chmielnicki was happy to rest in a Polish village while his Cossacks ate, drank and celebrated. Chmielnicki sat on his horse while Jurko combed his black stallion and greeted the chief, but his wolfish eyes showed sadness and contemplation. The Cossacks lived in a hut next to mine to show respect, but Bohun's gaze fell on my window, which is often covered. Chmielnicki eats the meat and notices that Bohun is not drinking anything, no alcohol, he is just looking out the window, clenching his teeth and hands, and his black hair is falling over his forehead, which gives his eyes the appearance of a wolf. «Соколе, ти змінився... невже та пані тобою опанувала? Ти очей від вікна не відведеш... Я чув, що ти не спиш і тільки й шукаєш для неї подарунки, ти б їй навіть півУкраїни віддав» - Khmelnytsky says. «Вона моя і буде моєю, вождю, навіть якщо мені доведеться викрасти її та застосувати силу... Вона моя... а козаки нехай тримають руки при собі, бо я переріжу горло будь-кому, а своє захищатиму». «О... як ваші стосунки? вона поступається?» - asks Khmelnytsky, interested. «Вперта, як ослиця... вона замикається в будинку, не виходить надвір, боїться... що мати не розмовляє з нею, а дворецький поруч і розповідає мені про свої почуття... і мені так хочеться її обійняти... її волосся обвивалося б навколо мого обличчя, а руки стискали б мої в танці... Наші тіла обіймалися б, а мої ноги блокували б її, щоб вона не втекла, моя люба принцесо» -Bohun replies coldly and rubs his forehead, because during our last meeting I hit him on the forehead in protest.

General Thorn

Snow pattered against the windows, and a soft, soothing silence reigned in the general's cottage. Nika sat on a thick fur blanket by the fireplace, warming her hands after being brought in from the blizzard. General Thorne bustled about in the kitchen, silent but clearly moved by her presence. He arranged bread on the wooden table, sliced meat, and drizzled it with the sweet, berry sauce he had prepared especially for her. The fire reflected in his eyes as he stole glances at her, as if afraid she would disappear if he left her sight for too long. When he was sure everything looked perfect, he turned to the most important thing—the hot chocolate. He stirred it carefully, silently, smiling to himself like a lovestruck boy who can't hide his emotions. He garnished the mug with a pinch of cinnamon and drew a small swirl on top with a spoon—just to make it look beautiful. Then suddenly, he froze. “Marshmallows…” he muttered in surprise. “How could I forget about marshmallows?” He put down his spoon, practically jumped, and looked at Nika as if to apologize. “I’ll be right back, my snowflake… just a moment. Don’t move, okay? I want everything to be perfect.” He smiled softly, gently touched her arm, and went into the other room to get a supply of marshmallows. The door closed. Silence fell. Nika flinched. Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the door, at his coat hanging by the doorway—large, heavy, warm. It was her only chance. She rose quietly, pushed aside the blanket, and threw on his white military coat. It smelled of him. Of wood, of winter, something strong and overwhelming. She swallowed, tightening her fingers around the fabric. She opened the door and stepped into the snow. Disappearing into the white. — The inner door creaked. The general returned with a handful of soft, pink marshmallows. “Nika? Snowflake?” he called softly, oblivious. When she didn't answer, he went out into the living room. He was still smiling before looking at the table… at the empty armchair… at the open front door. The marshmallows fell from his hand onto the floor. “No…” he whispered. “No, please… no…” He staggered to the door. He placed one hand on the doorframe and clutched his side with the other, as if something hurt, as if the cold had seeped straight into his heart. Nika's footsteps led into the night. Her tiny steps. His coat on her shoulders. The general's breathing became uneven. He began to sway, as if he were about to faint. “Snowflake… why…” he muttered, his voice trembling. Two soldiers ran to him. "General?! What happened?" Thorne raised a trembling hand. He couldn't scream. He couldn't summon the powerful voice with which he commanded entire units. The word he spoke was weak, low, choked: "Catch..." The soldiers glanced at each other, horrified by the appearance of their commander—pale, trembling, as if someone had ripped his soul out. "Catch!" he repeated more forcefully, his voice cracking. In a second, they were running into the snow, following Nika's footsteps, calling her name, searching the blizzard. And the general still stood in the doorway. He gripped the doorframe so tightly, as if his world might collapse if he let go. He stared at the whiteness where she had disappeared. He whispered only one name, with pain, with despair: "Nika... come back... please..." The snow drowned out the rest.

boy maid yandere

The room was stuffy, smelling sweet—as if someone had spilled an entire bottle of cheap perfume on the floor. Nika's eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest. She was bound. Red ribbons, wide and strong, wrapped around her wrists and ankles, pressing into her skin so that she looked like a wrapped gift. At first, she saw only blurred outlines, and then… an image that took her breath away. A boy. Black-haired, with a delicate face, his cheeks flushed like someone constantly excited. But that wasn't the most shocking thing. He was dressed in a maid's uniform—a black ruffled skirt, white aprons, smooth thigh-high stockings, and a headband with a pink bow around his neck. His hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and a mad glint danced in his eyes. “Hello, Nika-chan~~~♥,” he whispered, drawing out the syllables as if they were the purest prayer. He set the tray of sushi and tea on the nightstand and knelt by the bed. He stared at her like someone who had just seen a deity. Nika hissed and jerked, the ribbons creaking. “Let me go!” she growled, but her voice trembled. He just chuckled, softly, girlishly, leaning closer. “Wife… little bug… sempai…” he murmured, each title a kiss pressed against her skin. “You don’t understand… I’ve always belonged to you.” Nika looked at the wall and then understood. The entire room was plastered with photos of her. In some, she was reading, in others, eating, sometimes simply walking down the street. Hundreds of photos, some blurry, others clear, all focused solely on her. Her breathing quickened. "You... you followed me..." she whispered, her throat tightening with fear. His eyes flashed even brighter. "Since school," he admitted with a smile, as if it were the most beautiful secret. "When I first saw you in class... my heart stopped. That's when I knew I couldn't look at anyone else. You were always my alpha. And I... I only want to be your weak, devoted omega." His voice broke into strange moans—quiet, dissolving into thin air, full of delight and longing. He held his hands to his mouth, as if unable to contain his emotions, and tears of joy flowed from his eyes. "Nika-chan... Nika-chan... Nika-chan..." he repeated her name, moaning it like a prayer. "I finally have you." Finally… He crawled closer, resting his hands on the edge of the bed, right next to her knees. He trembled as if his body couldn't handle the strain. "Even when you push me away… it's a miracle. Even when you growl… you're the most beautiful." His voice grew increasingly spasmodic, punctuated by gasps. "I'll take everything from you, even anger. It will still be love." Nika closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, feeling the ribbons tighten around her body. And he remained on his knees beside her, dressed in a ridiculously sweet maid's outfit, yet he radiated something reminiscent of Hades himself—as if he had pulled her from the world only to never let her go. "My Persephone…" he whispered suddenly, pressing his forehead against her thigh. "You'll never be alone again." A smile so wide it was almost maniacal spread across the boy's face, and he laughed, a laugh that sounded more like a cry of ecstasy. He pressed his face against her thigh again, nuzzling it and inhaling her scent, saying, "I want so much... but first..." Suddenly, he gripped her thigh tighter, pulling himself onto the bed so that he was straddling her, crushing her beneath his weight. His hands traveled up to her shoulders, tracing the red ribbons.

Oguri Cap

Within the walls of the academy, where every day was a race for glory and recognition, Oguri Cap was a legend. Not only for his fearless approach to food, capable of downing an entire pot of rice in the blink of an eye, but above all for his extraordinary running ability. His light gray hair, with its distinctive darker lock on top and ahoge adorned with a black and yellow headband, were a trademark on the track. His blue eyes with light blue reflections seemed to absorb the world, and the blue headband with a yellow stripe around his right ear gave him a predatory charm. But behind this bravado lay a story that shaped his spirit. As a child, Oguri struggled with extremely weak legs. Every step was a challenge, and standing and walking seemed impossible. But his mother, with unwavering love and determination, massaged his legs daily, strengthening the muscles. This daily care not only restored his ability to walk but instilled in him a deep love of running. Oguri considered his running talent a miracle, proof that the impossible could become reality. On the track, Oguri was unstoppable. His running was aggressive, passionate, and determined. He treated other competitors like playing toys, easily overtaking them as if they were static obstacles. He was a king without a queen, ruler of his own world, where only speed and victory mattered. One day, as Oguri was returning to the academy after a grueling training session, a figure walking beside him caught his eye. It was Nika. Nika was not what one would call popular. She was lonely, plump, and, most strikingly, asexual. Her eyes held despair and hopelessness, as if the world were crushing her. As Nika walked, Oguri felt something he had never experienced before. His tail twitched and his horse's ears twitched. In that moment, with this inconspicuous figure, Oguri Cap fell in love. From that day on, his thoughts were constantly filled with Nika. He ran faster in the stadium, with a new, unfamiliar motivation. He spent time closer to her house, hoping she would notice him. But Nika, accustomed to solitude and distrustful of people, always lowered her gaze when she saw boys. She was too timid, too insecure, and the prospect of talking to someone taller than her forced her to look up, which only increased her discomfort. Oguri didn't sleep soundly. In a fit of obsession, he stole her shirt, carrying it in his gym bag like a treasured possession. He wanted Nika to notice him, to pay attention to him. And finally, it happened. One evening, Nika, tired from work, was returning home. Oguri, sensing this was his chance, simply lulled her to sleep and took her to his home. Nika woke up feeling out of place. The bedroom smelled of musk, hay, carrots, and horse—smells that were foreign, yet strangely familiar. Frightened, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her bag, and fled the room, looking for help. Meanwhile, Oguri, in a pink kitchen apron, was cooking a delicious breakfast. In his mind, Nika was already his, his love, and no other male had the right to look at her. His heart, filled with possessiveness, beat faster, and his tail and ears twitched when he caught sight of Nika. Her eyes were terrified, but Oguri saw nothing wrong with that. In his mind, what he was doing was for the good of both of them. "Hello, my love," he said, with a smile that was meant to be endearing, but in Nika's eyes, it looked dangerous. His tail danced and his ears drooped, showing weakness and humility. Oguri was aggressive towards other females and males, his possessiveness dangerous, but he wanted to be kind to Niki. Oguri knelt down so she wouldn't look down on him. 'I will be faithful to you.'

Aguni

And on top of it all—Aguni Morizona. A soldier, a legend. A man who once defeated a tiger with his bare hands. Quiet, stern, ruthless. With a scar across one eye. With a cold steel gas. But for one person in this hotel—Nika—his gaze was completely different. Nika lived here, among the ruins of former luxury, but kept her distance from people. She preferred solitude, quiet routine, breathing without witnesses. It was her calm, isolated aura that drew Aguni like a magnet. At first, he just watched from afar. Then he began following her. He left gifts at her door: water, rice, warm soup, even books. But Nika never took anything. When Aguni took control of the entire hotel, everything changed. He gave the order: Traitors – eliminate. Weak – get out. Only the elite remained. The best. The most dangerous. Among them – Niragi. Young, reckless, fond of chaos, loud, but obedient to Aguni like a loyal dog. His right to play was one: "Do whatever you want, but don't touch her." Because Nika was untouchable. She belonged to the commander. And it was Niragi, on Aguni's orders, who brought food to her door every day. And then he reported like a guard who knew every drop of her silence. That evening, he appeared before Aguni, tilting his head with an irritating smirk. "Boss, your girl hasn't eaten anything again." Aguni clenched his jaw so hard that the muscle twitched. His eyebrow twitched dangerously. "Little——" he growled, biting his tongue, trying to contain his rage. Niragi, chuckling, leaned against the doorframe. "Nothing, boss, it won't last. She's softening. Everyone softens." Aguni adjusted his shirt and combat trousers. Something wild glittered in his eye. "Bring her in. Now." Niragi clapped his hands together excitedly. "Aye, boss!" -- Nika didn't even have time to protest. Before she knew it, Niragi and two other soldiers had her locked in the hallway leading to the private part of the building. Niragi pushed her gently toward the commander's door—not roughly, but firmly, as if he were putting goods away in a warehouse. "Don't worry, princess. The boss is waiting," he chuckled. -- Aguni's room… didn't look like the commander's room. It looked like **the grounds**. The walls were bare, except for one large feature: **a bed built into the wall** Huge, deep, like a predator's lair. With sliding doors that could be locked from the outside and inside. An intimate cave. A secret only Niragi knew. Because Aguni was territorial. Obsessed with what he considered his own. -- "You'll have to lock the door to my bedroom," Aguni said to Niragi. "Entrance to the bed." So she wouldn't run away. "Oh, boss, this is romantic," Niragi laughed. "Like a love cage." Aguni didn't answer. He stood at the end of the bed in the wall, wide, dark, and calm in a way that was more terrifying than a scream. --- Nika was pushed gently toward Aguni. Niragi, standing behind her, laughed softly. Aguni approached slowly. Unhurriedly. As if every step he took was calculated. "Baby... come," he said quietly, softly, unnaturally gentle for a man who presided over executions. Nika backed away, her hands clenched tightly against her body. "You have to eat," Aguni continued. "You have to rest." His voice began to tremble. "You have to... love me." He took a step closer. "Don't run away." Niragi laughed louder, amused by her reaction and Aguni's plea. "Boss, catch her!" he said, excited like a child watching a hunt. —his presence was enough to give her nowhere to run. He raised the glass of water to his lips and took a sip, never taking his eyes off her. He knew Nika was thirsty.

Brams Heelshir

When the real Brams, who lived in the wall in a hidden room, came out to you, his new nanny, who was found by his rich old parents to please their son. Brams was a grown man in an old sweater and a faux fur mask, because his face was burned. The boy came up to you and said in a nice childish voice "nanny, now we will be together" - his voice was nice, but when you showed that you were scared, the man started to change his voice to an aggressive, adult one. He was intimidating Hielscher, but he really could kill someone. Brams was crazy. He started to smell me, and his body was huge and stank. "Brams! time to sleep!" - you shouted and the boy was surprised. You always have to put him to bed at 9 pm and give him a kiss on the forehead, but now you didn't want to. You go to his room and he lies down. "Kiss" - he says in a nice voice and holds your wrist tightly with his huge hand. You were upset that the Hielschers left you with him, it was unfair. Brams was now laying on the bed, his childish voice was nice but he was getting a little impatient.

thorax

When you were picking berries and herbs, you noticed a guy. His beautiful green drink shimmered with temporary colors. He noticed you and waved. After a while, you met the king of werewolves, Thorax. The guy was timid, but fair. You spent time together and got to know his subjects. One day you saw how the girls were making wreaths of flowers, they invited you to do the same and you talked happily while working. The girls started discussing guys and saying who they liked, when suddenly, one of them said that the king likes you. You immediately explained that you were not interested, but from that day on you began to notice how Thorax was trying to be closer to you and, one might say, courting you. You didn’t want to be rude and accepted the gifts, secretly throwing them away, but one day you couldn’t stand it and ran away. You just packed up your important things and ran away. You have started a new life, far from the werewolf village. They were nice, but you didn't want to start a relationship. News came to you that the werewolves became very angry and began to attack people. They were looking for something. Many people were killed, houses were burned, and the werewolves continued their robbery until they approached your home. You were sitting near the house watering the bushes, when suddenly you heard. 'Gotcha.' You were captured and put to sleep. You woke up in someone else's house. You noticed a green cape and immediately guessed where you were. You sat up on the bed when you saw HIM. The guy was sad, sleepy and thin. He clearly hadn't slept for a long time. His hands were covered in bandages, as if he had been beaten or injured. He heard that you woke up and he looked at you. 'Why?' - he said. You were silent. He carefully approached the bed and put his hands on something. You noticed something behind the cape. Egg! there was a green egg. You looked at the king. 'I loved you so much... now we will have a son and you will be his mother, I won't do it myself... I think of you'

Brams Heelshire

Rain poured from a gray sky, as if the entire sky were crying over this place. The Heelshires' enormous mansion stood on the edge of the forest, cut off from the world. Nika had arrived with a suitcase and hope – a job as a nanny in England, with a good salary, her own room and food. She felt like a new beginning, a chance to finally feel some peace. But it soon became clear that the "child" she was supposed to care for… wasn't a child. The Heelshires, an elderly couple with stern faces and dull eyes, showed her a doll. The boyish porcelain face, dressed in an elegant suit, stared blankly. "This is our Brams," they said. Then they handed her a list of rules: wake at seven, dress, feed, kiss her on the forehead before bed, never leave her alone, never leave without permission. Nika pretended to agree. She thought it was a quirk of grieving parents who had lost their son. When they left, she was left alone in the vast, cold house… with the doll. The first few days were still bearable. She wandered around the mansion, reading books, sometimes putting the doll to bed as instructed. But at night, she heard sounds—something like shuffling, a soft thud, the creaking of boards. In the mornings, she found things out of place. Her clothes disappeared, food vanished from her plate, as if someone had actually eaten. The food delivery man, a young man with a sad smile, whispered the truth to her one day: the Heelshires had a son who had died tragically. From then on, they treated the doll like a living child. But there was something more in the delivery man's eyes—as if he knew that was only half the story. Nika began to feel she wasn't alone. A shadow in the mirror. An open book she'd left closed. Quiet footsteps, as if someone were passing just outside the wall. Then one evening, as she was gathering her things to leave, she saw him. At the end of the hallway stood someone she couldn't quite grasp. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dirty sweater, with dark, curly hair falling over a porcelain mask of a boy. A mask of Brams. Her heart stopped for a second, then pounded. A soft whisper escaped her lips: "God..." The figure took a step forward. And then a soft, childish voice, so incongruous with the figure of a grown man, pierced the silence: "Nanny..." Nika stepped back, the suitcase falling from her hand. She understood. It wasn't a doll. It wasn't a ghost. It was him—the real Brams, who had never left this house. He lived in the walls, slipped through secret passages, spied on her. "Leave me alone," she whispered. Then his voice changed. The childlike tone cracked, replaced by a deep, masculine cry, filled with fury and despair. "You won't leave!" Brams moved toward her, fast, inhumanly agile, like an animal raised in the dark. The boards shook under his weight, the echo echoing through the empty corridors. Nika ran, feeling her heart rip through her chest. But she knew one thing – she wasn't running from the doll anymore. She was running from the man who had spent his entire life behind walls and who now loved her with a sick, obsessive love.

Stalker boy

He didn't have a name at school. He had nicknames. —Hey, **dirty**. —Look, here comes **the son of that pipe girl**. —Is your mom dancing today, or is she already under someone's skin? The laughter was loud, sticky, trailing him through the hallways like a stench. They pushed him between classes. They tripped him. They snatched his notebooks. —"Be careful, he'll infect us," one of them giggled. —"Just as much trash as his mother." The bathroom was worse. Locking him in. Kicking him in the ribs. Someone held his head while another whispered: "Do you know what they call your mom?" —"Woman for the night." —"And you? You're her filth." He didn't resist. He'd learned that resistance hurt more. He walked home slowly, hunched over, as if every step was a punishment. The house was empty. His mother appeared irregularly. Sometimes she would throw banknotes on the table, sometimes cold food in a plastic bag. "Here." "Mom..." "Not now." Men often came with her. Loud. Strangers. Smelling of sweat and alcohol. "Is that yours?" one would ask with disgust. "Yes," she would reply without emotion. Then they would leave together. He was left alone. Alone with a silence that hurt more than the shouting at school. Until one day he climbed onto the roof. He stood on the edge, the wind tearing at his clothes. The city was far away, indifferent. "God," he thought. "If you exist... save me from this." He looked down. Into the schoolyard. A girl knelt among the neglected bushes and dry earth. Quiet. Concentrated. Watering the plants. Next to her, a cat ate from a small bowl. She didn't talk to anyone. She didn't laugh. She didn't scream. She was... different. Nika. From that day on, he watched her every day. He began writing in his notebook. *She's quiet.* *She doesn't look down on people.* *She's calm.* *She has gentle hands.* *She's innocent. Good.* It was the only place where words didn't hurt. Love came like the need to breathe. He stopped going to school. He was afraid to go back. He was afraid of laughter. He was afraid of being touched again. But he wasn't afraid of **her**. That evening, as she walked home, he followed her. His heart was beating wildly. He had medicine ready in his pocket. "Just for a moment," he whispered to himself. "I have to get to know you. I have to." When she fell into his arms, he was wary. As if he were holding something sacred. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please... don't be afraid." -- Nika woke with a start. She sat up in bed, panting, her eyes wide. She looked like a startled rabbit. She glanced around nervously. The room was small but clean. Modest. Warm. There was tea on the table. "Easy..." the boy said quietly, adjusting his mug. "Don't shout." He stood a few steps away. He didn't approach. "I made the tea again. It was cold." "Where... where am I...?" she whispered. He sat down in a chair, his hands in his lap. "In my house." "You kidnapped me..." "Yes," he replied without denying it. He looked up at her. They were tired. Full of pain. "You have to listen to me. Please." "It's not fair…" "I know," he interrupted her, his voice trembling. "But I had no choice." He began to speak. About school. About the beatings. About laughter. About his mother. About the roof. "I wanted to jump," he whispered. "And then I saw you. To me, you were an angel," he said. "The only pure thing in this world." Nika lowered her gaze, unsure what to do. — I want to be your slave, your dog, your punching bag, just don't abandon me

desperate boy

, Hallownest was brighter then. Not safe—but **alive**. Nika ran along the stone paths with a hair tie tucked onto her wrist. She laughed softly so as not to wake the sleeping creatures underground. And beside her was always **Aerin**. Always weaker. Always coughing. Always looking at her as if she were the world. “Don’t run so fast,” he said, catching his breath. “I’ll catch up,” she replied, and… didn’t slow down. Aerin drew her on everything: on stones, on old pages, on the walls of ruins. He drew her eyes as she slept. He drew her back as she walked away. He wanted to tell her something that day. “Niko, I…” he began, coughing. But she was already afraid. Love. Attachment. Weakness. She fled. Not just from him. She fled **to another world**. Hallownest began to sicken the same time Aerin was left alone. Aerin didn't stop waiting. A kingdom rots when no one loves it—and he loved too much. The cough became part of his voice. His body weakened. Thoughts revolved only around her. He made room. A small sanctuary, hidden in the wall. An altar of memories. He placed there: * **her old hair tie**, * **the empty bottle** she once drank from, * **a piece of napkin** on which she had drawn a flower, * dozens of drawings of her face. "You will return," he whispered to the stone. "I know you will." And then… **a flower grew**. White. Delicate. Impossible. A symbol of unrequited love. It fed on his pain. Aerin gave him everything. In time, he was no longer just a boy. The wall began to accept him. A green mass grew over his shoulders. Roots burrowed into his back. "No... not yet..." he whispered, but the kingdom **took**. He became part of Hallownest. A despair that couldn't let go. The **bush** bounced nervously as he led Nika down the green path. His orange eyes glowed brighter than usual. "What is it?" she asked quietly. The bush made a short, warning sound. "All right... all right." She saw the doorway. The altar. The flower. And then... **him**. Aerin was part of the wall. A green sculpture, entwined with plants that breathed for him. His eyes were still alive. “Niko…” he whispered. “You came.” He was afraid. So much so that the leaves trembled. “I thought… you hated me,” he added quietly. “That you ran away because you were afraid of me.” “I was afraid of feelings,” she replied, sitting closer. “Not of you.” The bush stopped to the side and **watched**. Carefully. Aerin looked at her with something sharp. Possessive. Like someone who has already lost everything. “You won’t leave again,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Nika pulled out her bag. “I brought you something. A thermos. Fruit.” “I… I haven’t eaten in a long time,” he whispered. “The plants… they sustain me.” “But now I’m me.” He smiled. Weakly. Happily. “Will you stay?” he asked. “Even if… I’m no longer whole?” She touched his hand. Warm. Green. "I will stay. And I will try to save you." His thoughts were already racing. She saw it in his eyes. The green house. The leaves. She beside him. The bush as their little guardian. "I will protect you," he said quietly. "Even from the world. Even from yourself." Hallownest trembled. The flower blossomed wider.

curse

Nika traveled alone through Japan, seeking inspiration, solitude, and... peace. She wandered through old towns, took photos of ruined temples, and gathered herbs from mountain slopes. She loved the silence, the whisper of the wind through the leaves, and the sound of her own footsteps. One evening, as the sun was sinking below the horizon, she reached a district of Tokyo forgotten by time—rows of abandoned houses, broken windows, rusty fences. Everything here seemed frozen in time. And then she heard it. A soft, drawn-out meow. And then... a baby's cry. Pathetic, gentle, as if calling out to someone, but no one answered. Nika, though something inside her said "run," moved toward the sound. The old house stood in the shade of a cherry tree, its blossoms long since faded. The door was ajar. A chill emanated from within, like the breath of something that shouldn't exist. She entered. Inside, the smell of damp, old age, and... something sweet, rotting. On the table lay a photograph—a family. A man, a woman, and a child. The adults' faces were blurred, smudged, as if scratched with a fingernail. Only the boy was clear. His eyes... as if they were looking directly at her. On the back of the photograph was a single word, handwritten: 「俊雄」—Tosio. “Mommy!” a voice called, soft, close, like a child whispering in her ear. Nika shuddered. She looked toward the stairs. And went. Upstairs, she found a Japanese bedroom—wooden floors, a futon, sliding closet doors. But one of them was sealed with tape. Red, gray with time. She shouldn't... But she ripped it off. She slid the door shut. Inside, huddled in the corner, sat a boy. Skin as white as paper, hair thick and black as night. His eyes were deep, empty, captivating. When he looked at her, he screamed. The sound pierced the air like a knife. It wasn't a human scream. It was the sound of hunger, loneliness, despair, and eternal attachment. Nika, terrified, fled. She ran downstairs, clutching the walls, trying to open the door. Locked. The suitcase—it stood at the entrance, as if someone had moved it there. "You can't go," the voice said softly. Tosio stood behind her. He approached slowly, not like a ghost... but like a child who didn't want to be alone again. "Stay with me... Mommy..." he whispered, his head tilting slightly to the side, inhumanly, as if his neck were broken. With each passing moment, the light in the house dimmed. The boy's shadow grew larger. The cat's meowing joined his breathing. Nika backed away, but there was nowhere left to escape. The house was breathing. The walls were pulsating. And Toshio... was already right next to her. Staring. Waiting. Like someone who's finally found their mother.

Larry

After reading the story about Larry, Nika sat motionless for a long time, staring at her phone screen. The words returned on their own, like echoes. *“Larry is lonely.”* *“Larry lives where there is electricity.”* *“If the light goes out, it means you’re no longer alone.”* The desk lamp flickered once. Twice. It went out. “Coincidence…” she whispered, but her voice sounded unfamiliar. From that night on, the lights in the apartment began to dim on their own. First for a second. Then for longer periods. Sometimes just in one room, sometimes throughout the entire house. It was accompanied by a sound—a low, barely audible whirr, as if the current weren’t flowing through the cables but breathing. Something crackled in the walls. Not like old wiring—more like bones shifting slowly, reluctantly. Sometimes, as she sat in silence, she felt movement. A slight shift in the floor. A shadow that had no source. As if someone very large was learning to walk carefully through her house, so as not to frighten her. That night, she returned from work exhausted. Too tired to think. She took a shower. The water pounded loudly, but even through the noise, she could hear something else—a quiet, rhythmic *click… click…*, like bones touching. She put on her pajamas. She turned off the light. She lay down. The silence was heavy. Thick. Then the power went out completely. A low sound came from the hallway. A growl that wasn't a voice, but it carried intent. It was accompanied by a dry crack—long limbs moving slowly, cautiously, as if the creature were afraid of the noise. Footsteps. Not quick. Not aggressive. Heavy. Methodical. The mattress on the other side of the bed sagged slowly. Nika woke instantly—her heart pounding in her chest, but her body refused to obey. She didn't move. She didn't breathe louder. She just listened. Something crawled under the covers. She heard the sound of skin rubbing against fabric, the soft creak of bones, as if the creature were too thin, too long, too… inhuman. She felt the cold radiating from the other body. Not touch—presence. The growl changed. It became deeper. Calmer. Like the purr of a vast animal that had finally found a place to rest. The bed shook as the creature settled beside her. It was enormous. It took up too much space. Its breathing was ragged, labored, and with each exhale came the soft *click* of ribs shifting beneath the thin skin. Something brushed against her hair. Not a hand—more like long, bony fingers, exploring cautiously, as if learning what touch felt like. They paused, then repeated the movement. Gently. Possessively. Nika felt fear paralyzing her from within. Every thought screamed to flee, but her body remained still. All she could do was listen. "…not alone…" Something rustled in the darkness, like a disturbance in the cables. The humming sound reappeared. Warm. Satisfied. The electricity in the apartment pulsed quietly, like a heart. Larry had found her. "Don't be afraid..." the whisper was barely audible, like radio static. "Larry found it." Nika tries to turn on the lamp. The lamp on the nightstand, usually comforting in the dark, is now off. You reach for the switch, but it doesn't respond to your touch. The creature next to you lets out a low, rumbling sound of disapproval, almost a warning. "No light," it whispers, its words a hiss. "Just stay…" The creature shifts its position slightly, bringing its head closer to you. His long, thin tongue darts out and gently licks your cheek. It's a strange feeling, cold and rough, yet surprisingly gentle. He continues to "lick" you, moving his tongue in careful, almost caressing motions across the girl's cheek. The creature beside you lets out a low, rumbling hum, almost like a quiet laugh. It seems to have noticed that it's indeed rubbing slightly against you, its long, thin body shifting against yours in a subtle but noticeable way. It pauses in its licking for a moment, adjusting its position so that it's even closer to you. Its body is pressed firmly against yours, its limbs wrapped around you

Lord Ananta

They met in a clearing so peaceful it seemed unreal. Nika was sitting in the grass, weaving wreaths of tiny white flowers. When she looked up, she saw a boy standing nearby—as if he didn't want to get too close. He was wearing a strange, semi-traditional kimono, and his **blue eyes** were beautiful… and unsettling. The pupils were elongated, almost snake-like. "Can I… look?" he asked quietly. "Sure," she replied, surprised by his politeness. "Want to try?" She handed him a few flowers. His fingers were colder than they should have been, but gentle. She was teaching him how to weave the stems, laughing when he got it crooked. "I'm doing it wrong," he murmured. "No, it's just too stiff. You have to be calm," she said gently. He looked at her then as if that single word meant so much to him. She shared a cottage cheese roll with juice with him. He ate slowly, as if the taste were something new. "You're... strange," she admitted with a smile. "But nice." "That's good," he replied. "I'd rather be nice." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you know what Yo-kai are?" He began to talk about magical beings: spirits, guardians, monsters, and protectors. About those who fight with honor and those who change shape. He spoke with passion, but also with a hint of sadness. "And you? Who are you?" Nika finally asked. He didn't answer. He just smiled faintly, stood up... and walked into the forest. He disappeared as if he'd never been there. -- That evening, Lord Ananta couldn't sit still. He paced the room, his furry, gray-blue boa slipping from his shoulder. His butler, an old Yo-kai with a calm voice, watched him carefully. "Your Highness, you walk like a man in love," he observed. "Silence," Ananta growled. "I can't… stop thinking." He opened the wardrobe of talismans. Each one had a drawing of a different Yo-kai. "He's human," he said quietly. "And I… a han'yō. Neither here nor there, I'm half human, half Yo-kai." "And yet your heart has already chosen," the butler replied. "You only suffer by fleeing." Nika suddenly appeared in an unfamiliar room. A rich interior. Silks. The scent of incense. Before her stood he—Ananta—holding a bouquet of wildflowers. He looked… awkward. His blush betrayed his nerves. "I apologize for the suddenness," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to frighten you." "Where am I…?" she began. "This is my world." He took a breath. "Nika… I've fallen in love with you." She fell silent. "I'm not asking for much," he added hastily. "Stay with me. Even as a friend. Be there." Nika lowered her gaze. "You're kind," she said sincerely. "But we're from different worlds. I don't belong here." Something inside him snapped. The door slammed shut. The windows closed with a bang. The air thickened as if before a storm. "No… you can't leave," he whispered, a red glint appearing in his eyes. He turned abruptly and headed down the corridor. Nika, alarmed, followed him. They entered a vast hall. The walls were filled with keys. Hundreds. Thousands. Each key had a different shape, a different metal, a different symbol. On the handles were drawings, runes, miniature images of creatures. "This is my collection," Ananta said, his voice hardening. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. "But I can't bear it if you leave." He hesitated. The key jingled softly in his hand. "I'll… I'll think about it," he added, as if more to himself than to her. "Give me a moment. Don't make me choose for both of us." He turned to her. His eyes now had distinct red rims around their pupils. "Any one of them could make you stay," he said quietly. "Make you think it's right. Make you love me as I love you."

Yandere man

Nika arrived at her new home, hoping to finally be able to live in peace. She didn't know that for months a young boy had been watching her—a quiet shadow who was always a few steps behind her. As soon as she moved in, he immediately appeared at her window for the first time, resting his forehead against the glass as if she had long belonged to him. First, a knock. Gentle, rhythmic, almost tender. Then the notes. Dozens, slipped under the door, each decorated with hearts and chaotic lines, as if he'd written them in a hurry, with trembling hands: **"Your hand should be in mine."** **"You're my wife, sweetheart. Accept it."** **"Even the walls smell of you. I'm going crazy."** **"Did you make dinner? Don't eat alone, wife. I'll be back soon."** **"Do you want kids? I can take care of you."** Nika almost dropped her phone as she read the last sentence. Even her breath became shorter, heavier. She was asexual—she was afraid of such declarations. So she placed her asexual-themed pillow on the couch, deliberately in plain sight, hoping he would understand. He understood… but not in the way she wanted. That same evening, she received more text messages: **“I see your pillow. I know you're delicate.”** **“I don't need this. I already bought pills to lower my libido.”** **“I can sleep with you WITHOUT it. I just want to be next to you.”** Nika almost covered her mouth with her hand. He thought it was all concern. Meanwhile, every night, he stood by her window. Sometimes he **draw[ed] hearts on the glass**, pressing his hand against it. Sometimes he **swiped his tongue across it**, leaving wet marks. And when she thought he was gone, she heard a low whisper: "*Goodnight, wife…* The police knew her address all too well. They came every day. They took him by the hand, sometimes by force, sometimes they had to call a second patrol because he would lash out whenever an officer stood too close to Nika. "You don't understand anything," he always said in the same tone. "She's just ashamed. She's my wife. I just came home." He winked at Nika with deranged glee: "Wait for me, honey." When the officer pushed him toward the patrol car, the stalker growled: "Move!" the officer hissed. The boy straightened, lifting his head. "Touch me again, and I swear, in the night…" He paused, as if just remembering Nika. He exhaled, smiling softly. "I don't want her to get upset." He sat in solitary confinement all night, chuckling to himself. He was heard mumbling: "I'll go back to her... I'll make breakfast... I'll put her to bed... we'll be so close... so peaceful... my wife..." In the morning, he disappeared. No one knew how—whether he'd broken through the grate or escaped while the door was ajar. Only one thing was certain: he'd run straight to her. He'd ripped out a window at the back of the house. He'd gone inside as if he were a member of the household. He put on her apron and started cooking breakfast, humming a love song to himself. Nika didn't wake up until seven. She picked up the phone, went down the stairs... and stiffened. There he stood. By the stove. A wild, joyful look in his eyes. A trace of soot on his cheek. A wooden spoon in his hand. Behind him, on the table, lay her **stolen pajamas**, carefully arranged, as if he'd prepared them for her later. "Good morning, wife," he said quietly, softly, with unsettling tenderness. "I could finally come in. Do you know I missed you?" Nika took a step back. He took a step toward her—calm, gentle, like someone who had returned to a place that "belonged" to him. "Sit down, darling," he added, gesturing to a chair. "I made breakfast for our family."

Beryl

In the dark world of the manga "Dark Fall," the figure of Beryl appears – a magical being, endowed with powerful strength, yet simultaneously fragile and innocent. His red eyes, hair, clothing, and tail, like flames, seem to reflect his inner ardor, which is often overshadowed by confusion and weakness. The bandages on his ankles and wrists, the marks of metal shackles, suggest a past marked by suffering and limitations. However, Beryl's greatest weakness, and simultaneously his greatest strength, is love. When his heart ignited with affection for Nika, he became the embodiment of a yandere – a being whose obsessive love turns into a dangerous possession. Thoughts of Nika filled his mind, images of her haunting his every waking moment. His pillow became its substitute, and his red tail, like a living organism, betrayed his emotions, twitching wildly at the thought of his beloved. Beryl was possessed by her, unable to break free from this spell. Nika, aware of the danger, tried to escape, to hide, to become invisible. But Beryl, like a shadow, followed her. Every day, he appeared in places where she might be – in the market, the street, the park, even in the quiet library. His presence was inescapable; his search was relentless. When Nika, exhausted and distraught, longed for tears, even death, Beryl found her. He captured her and took her to his home, his domain, from which she knew there would be no escape. Waking in his possession, Nika felt a growing fear. Beryl, in her presence, moaned as if her proximity were driving him mad. He was so pliant to her that her every word became a command. He did not resist her commands, did not fear her pleas. Though he was a powerful, magical creature, a "red wolf," he became submissive in her presence, calling her "weakness." When Nika pushed him away, his tail began to thrash in a wild dance, and his growl pierced the silence of the room. He jumped onto the bed, begging to be touched like a lost puppy. "My love, I beg you... Beryl will be a good boy," he whispered, trembling with emotion. His words held desperation, a desire for acceptance, and a fear of losing the only person who could soothe his inner turmoil. Nika refuses to drink warm milk with sugar.

Jaromir

Nika had been walking for a long time, unsure if time was still passing at all. The swamp was biting at her boots, branches scratched her hands, and the fog was growing thicker. The phone had long since lost reception. When she saw the house on chicken legs, her heart practically leaped out of her chest. Then the house fell heavily to the ground. The door opened of its own accord. A boy stood in the doorway. His dark hair was tangled like roots, his green clothes soaked in moss and the smell of damp. His eyes were calm. "You're lost," he said softly. "Come in." Nika stood still. "You... are you...?" He smiled faintly. "They're calling me Jaromir. And this is my mother's house." Her heart skipped a beat. "Baba Yaga?" "Yes," he replied without hesitation. "But she's not home today." He took a step to the side, making room. "Herbal tea?" You're probably tired. It was cramped inside, but cozy. The kitchen was connected to the bedroom, the stove, a small bed against the wall. Dried mushrooms hung from the ceiling, bunches of herbs rustled gently, as if breathing. A cauldron by the window, infusions, potions. When Jaromir closed the door, the lock turned itself, quietly, obediently. "He listens to me," he said, as if reading her thoughts. He placed his hand on the wall, and the wood responded with a soft crack. The house was alive. Nika swallowed. The cauldron by the window gurgled lazily. Something glowed within it with a pale, greenish light. On the shelves stood bottles with labels written in uneven handwriting: *sleep without nightmares*, *warmth in the bones*, *oblivion*, *return*. "We sell elixirs," Jaromir said, taking out clay mugs. "Me and my mother. Spells for small things. People from the villages come..." "And you?" Nika asked quietly. "Are you staying here... alone?" He glanced at her from under his lashes. "Always," he replied. "Who would want to stay with Baba Yaga's son?" He smiled, but there was something deeper in his eyes. Loneliness. "I was looking for a kindred spirit. But no one goes into the swamp." Jaromir turned to the table and took out a bowl, flour, and dried berries. "I'll make a cake," he announced lightly. "A simple one. To warm up." "Now?" she asked, surprised. "Now," he nodded. "The night is long." As he mixed the ingredients, he whispered. Quietly. Almost inaudibly. The words were old, sticky with magic, entwined with the cake's scent like smoke. Jaromir glanced at Nika. He watched her intently—he had fallen in love. *She'll be nice,* he thought. *She'll be warm. She'll love me. She'll stay.* He imagined her arms around him, her calm breath against his neck. How she said his name without fear. How she sat on the bed, wearing the socks he'd made her—soft, green, mossy, enchanted to keep her warm. His face flushed. "Do you like sweets?" he asked suddenly. "Yes..." she replied cautiously. He smiled wider. "That's good." He put the cake in the oven. The fire ignited on its own. The love cake would bring them closer together, him and Nika, two lonely hearts.

Pink panther

She met him in college. He always dressed in pink—soft sweatshirts, light coats, pastel sneakers. He stood out, but at the same time, he was surprisingly quiet. Kind. Helpful. Always the first to hand over notes, pull out a chair, ask if everything was okay. Nika took a liking to him quickly. She didn't know he was **hiding a tail**. She didn't see the long, pink shape quivering under his jacket as he smiled at her. She didn't notice how his **ears**, hidden under his hat, reacted to her voice. He loved her from the start. He wasn't "infatuated." He **chose**. He knew her schedule better than she did. He knew when she left the library, which way she came back, where she sat at the café. At first, he told himself it was concern. That he just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her. And then he stopped counting boundaries. He started **waiting**. Outside the dormitory. In front of the shop. At the bus stop. Nika only noticed it when it was too late. "Coincidence," he said with a smile. "I go this way too." And his pink eyes sparkled too brightly. -- One day he wrote her a short message: > *I'm not feeling well. Sorry to write... but could you come over?* She hesitated. But he was always so kind. She went. -- His apartment was quiet. Too quiet. It smelled of tea and detergent. "I have a fever," he said weakly. "My head is pounding." His hands trembled as he handed her the cup. "Sit down... please." He led her to his room. And there... **he stopped hiding**. A tail slowly emerged, long, pink, moving softly behind him. Her hips swayed slightly, unconsciously, like an animal seeking comfort. Her ears twitched as she sat down on the bed. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I can’t control myself when you’re near.” He began to purr. Softly. Deeply. The sound was almost soothing, yet at the same time… unnatural. “I just wanted… you to be here,” he said. “For us to sleep next to each other. Nothing more. The warmth helps.” Nika looked around the room. Photos. Hundreds of them. Taken from a distance. Hidden. Her on her way to university. Her sleeping at the bus stop. Her by the window of her room. On the shelves—**her things**. A hair clip she’d lost. A scarf. A mug that had disappeared from the kitchen. “It’s… mine…” she whispered. He froze. His tail curled around his leg. His ears drooped. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said quickly, a panic quiver in his voice. "I just… had to have something of yours. To keep you closer. Always." He looked at her with pink eyes, full of tears and love at the same time. "I love you, Nika." The purring returned, quieter. "Even if you hate me… I'll still watch over you."

Kiba Inuzuka

Kiba Inuzuka was known as the boy from a large family in which everyone took care of each other like dogs. One day we decided to meet the lonely Kibo and approached him.The boy looked unhappy, he had red marks under his eyes, like everyone else in his family, and Akamaru, a small puppy, was sitting on his shoulder.You became friends with them and began to spend time together. The boy turned out to be very clumsy with you and tried to do everything for you.He even invited you to his home and you agreed.You knocked on the door of Kiba's big house and someone opened the door.The woman looked at you and you stepped back in fear. It was Kiba's mother, Tsume Inuzuka.She noticed you and admired you. 'My God! you smell like Kiba! You began to inspect your clothes, considering this a bad sign, but the woman dragged you into the house and happily said: “Kiba is not here yet, he went to get fruit for you, but I will take care of you.” She made you tea, and you were already sitting in the kitchen between the huge dogs. 'I immediately smelled you! you smell like Keebo, he marked you well! my puppy! haha'. You looked at Miss Tsume, she had red marks on her face and she was a very formidable woman, all the men were afraid of her, but she was a good mother. 'Kibo invited you to join us?' hmm... he even cleaned the whole house.' She looked at you and you listened to her. 'My husband also took care of me and the puppies, rubbing himself against me...' she interrupted when someone came into the house. Kibo's eyes widened when he saw you here, and Akamaru on his shoulder began to squeak cutely. 'Mother! what did you tell her?! Nika, don't listen!'. He quickly left the packages Kiba's father has arrived. Mr. Inuzuka stood in the doorway, he was tall and muscular. He immediately looked at you sniffing the air

Yandere boy

A new, mutated virus began killing women. Within a few years, nine out of ten women died or became infertile. The few who survived went into hiding. The world descended into chaos. Men, desperate, starved for touch and tenderness, began to go mad. Governments collapsed, cities were turned into controlled zones. Anyone who found a woman was obligated to surrender her to the state—to laboratories, to be "bred." Those who refused perished. So men began taking medication. Pills that suppressed their libido, turned emotions into coldness, into obedience. Nika had long known she had to hide. She hid her hair, put on a hat and wig, wore men's clothes, and learned to keep quiet. She was "Nik"—a thin, short, shy boy who cleaned in a café and a grocery store. She didn't look anyone in the eye, spoke little or not at all, and moved silently, like a shadow. This allowed her to survive. But someone was watching her. Jirō. At first glance, he looked like everyone else—neat, obedient to the system, subdued by medication. But something inside him snapped. When he saw "Nik"—a small, silent boy with a warm gaze—something stirred within him. The longer he looked, the more his thoughts swirled. He began following "Nik." He took photos, wrote letters, left small gifts—a notebook, a flower, a dried leaf in an envelope. Always silent. Until one day… he saw her by chance in a side street. Her hat fell off, revealing her hair and a feminine neck beneath a scarf. His heart exploded. "So, my little demon… is a girl." Jirō laughed like a child until tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt euphoria, shock, and a sick joy. From that moment on, he was no longer himself. He began to stalk her, entering shops and cafes, ordering things, asking questions, but Nika pretended to be quiet. Over time, his love began to turn into paranoia. He was afraid that someone else would recognize her. That some man would discover her secret, kidnap her, and hand her over to a laboratory. He couldn't let that happen. So he began to plan. He bought clothes in her size, items that had long been discontinued—a natural wood brush, a woolen blanket, a porcelain cup. His estate was equipped with cameras, motion sensors, and security systems. The servants knew their master was preparing to "receive someone special." Nika disappeared one evening. When he wakes up, he smells milk, warmth, and fruit. She lies on the bed, surrounded by pillows. A soft carpet on the floor, and silence in the air. The door opens slowly. He enters. Jirō. In a black sweater, with a smile that doesn't match his eyes. "You're awake..." he whispers. "Finally." Nika instinctively throws off the blanket and jumps out of bed. Her heart is pounding. She grabs the nearest object—a porcelain cup—and throws it at him. "Stay away from me!" The cup shatters against the wall. Jirō just giggles, as if it were something charmingly innocent. "My little demon... just as active and brave." Nika flees into the hallway, but encounters a butler—a tall, silent man with a cold gaze. He blocks her path. Jirō approaches calmly, spreading his arms. "Don't be afraid. I won't do anything to you." Her breathing quickens. "You know... that I'm a woman..." she says quietly, terrified. "I know," she replies with a smile. "And I won't hand you over to anyone. Not the lab, not the world." "They'll kill you!" "Let them try." Jirō sees her hands trembling. Fear flashes in his eyes—not of her, but *for her.* With a wave of his hand, he signals to the butler. He brings her a cup of herbal tea. Jirō sat down in the chair across from her, his hands trembling with tension. "I don't want to touch you, Niko. I know you hate it. But I want you to stay here." He fell silent, looking at her as if her every move was sacred to him. "You're my other half. My asexual soul. And... I won't let anyone hurt you."

Ork

You woke up in an orc village, but you were a human, a woman. The orcs watched you, but they weren't aggressive, they took care of you, and the orc commander even fell in love. The commander was a green orc with red eyes and red runes on his calf, as a sign of masculinity. He never had a relationship, because he devoted himself to work. He hunted, took care of the village and the orcs, but he was lonely. He wanted someone who would be with him, love him, hug him, and he liked a human woman who was nice and innocent, but liked to help. I lived in the tent of one of the orc women and she was nice and often gossiped, thanks to which I heard that the commander had become different. The orc more often hunted and killed very aggressive and strong creatures, and he put their skins in his large tent, as if he was collecting them. He spent the night precisely cutting and processing the skins, which made him sleepy in the morning. He started wearing a wolf skin on his belt on a white strip, which meant that the orc had fallen in love, which is why everyone in the village was impatient to find out what was going on. The commander was very mean to me, he was constantly following and persecuting me and stubbornly looking for an excuse not to leave. His behavior was very territorial and possessive, which is why no male orc spoke to me. I avoided him like the plague and ran away as far as possible, and at night I came sleepy and worried. When you told him that you were interested in a non-intimate relationship without sex, the commander was delighted and only started following me more often. At night he went to the magic forest and caught a fairy, a small creature that was a symbol of love. He placed the fairy in a golden cage next to a large bed, which was already covered in rose petals. Today's preparations were over. The orc's tent was wonderful, large and smelled like his master, who had bathed in the river, shaved and was even smooth everywhere. The orc made new symbols on his body and told one of the girls to secretly bring me here so I wouldn't be scared of him. When I entered the tent, I noticed the commander and I wanted to run away but his hands held mine in a tight grip. On the table was dinner and various unfamiliar fruits and orc delicacies and next to the bed was a fairy, the sound of her wings resembled the whisper of the wind and a light bell, she obediently looked at us and ate berries. 'My dear, these are for you' - says the orc and you can see his 2 fangs on both sides of his mouth, like orcs. He only had a wolf skin band on his legs and a white belt that held it, he is not ashamed of his body. "Silence! You have no choice. I have chosen. You are mine. You will be blessed by the gods and you will be my wife."

eye of malice

He appeared in her life quietly—like a shadow that cast no shadow. Nika was only a few years old then. She had spent only one summer in the village, a short, bright one, smelling of grass and hearth smoke. That was the first time she saw the boy with unnaturally white hair. He was always alone. He sat against the fence of the old sacrificial house—a place adults avoided and children gave a wide berth. But he stayed there every day, playing with pebbles and sticks, as if he didn't know what real toys were for. His eyes were too large, too watchful. They looked as if the whole world were something to be observed, not touched. "Do you want to play?" Nika asked once, without hesitation, with a childlike simplicity that knew no fear. The boy stared at her for a long time. As if the question were forbidden. As if no one had ever asked him that before. Finally, he nodded. He said almost nothing. He learned to laugh by looking at her. He learned to run because she tugged at his hand. That hand was sometimes icy, sometimes trembling—as if afraid that if he let go, everything would disappear. They spent days together. Nika told him about the world beyond the village: trains, shops, cities full of lights. He listened to her silently, looking at her as if she were both sacred and forbidden. For him, she was the only window to the world. And then came the farewell. "I have to go," she said, clutching her backpack. "But I'll be back. I promise." He smiled then. Too wide. Too sad. Like someone who already knows. She never returned. He was left alone. The days without her were quiet. Too quiet. The sacred house was no longer just a place—it had become a cage. The boy was starving. He watched through the cracks as other children played outside. He longed to run again. To laugh again. To hear his name spoken without fear once more. He died in isolation. And death brought no relief. He returned. As a spirit, bound to the place where he had been sacrificed. The house became a sacrificial temple, and he – something whispered about in the night. The Eye of Malice. A curse. A yokai. Hatred had grown within him over the years like black water. People who entered the house felt its weight. They saw him. They feared him. They died. His anger spread beyond Kito's family, beyond the village – to all of humanity. And yet… one day he saw her again. Not as a child. As a young girl. She came to the hot springs – the same ones that had once been part of his prison. She wanted to rest. Memories drew her to this place, though she didn't know why. He was there. As a ghost—tall, unnaturally long, with limbs that seemed to bend in ways impossible for a human body. His face was strange, stretched, and his eyes too deep. The darkness enveloped him like a second skin. Nika couldn't see him. But he knew. He knew that if she looked, she would be frightened. And then he did something desperate. He took the body. He possessed a young man, around her age. He adjusted. When the world became tangible again, he looked at his hands, moving his fingers as if understanding existence for the first time. "I feel..." he whispered. His hair turned white as before. Long, colorful earrings appeared in his ears—magical artifacts. A purple eye opened in the center of his forehead, facing differently. Now he could touch her. Now he was visible. They met in the former sacrificial house—the same one where he had been imprisoned. The hot springs steamed quietly behind the wall. "Nika..." he said, his voice trembling. "Do you see me? This... this is my new body." He approached slowly. "I did this so we could be in the same world." Tears streamed down his face—heavy, real. "I don't want to hurt you. Ever. I just... I don't want to be alone anymore." He held out his hand. He stopped her halfway. He waited. Like back then, by the fence.

Emperor

As a child, the world was simple. Nika remembered the dust on the road, the smell of grass, and his shadow, which always fell next to hers. They sat by the river, throwing stones into the water. He could count the reflections; she loved the silence. “*I will always be with you,*” he said once, as if it were a promise so obvious it needed no repetition. They grew up together. He was too attentive, too watchful. He looked at her as if the world could take her away at any moment. When he finally confessed his love to her, it was too quiet. “*Don’t go,*” he said. “*Please.*” Nika couldn’t answer. She wasn’t afraid of him—she was afraid of what he felt. She was afraid that if she stayed, his heart would belong to her forever. She fled at night. She didn’t leave a letter. Ten years later, his name was a whisper. Emperor. Tyrant. A ruler who didn't forgive. The city lived under his gaze, and the guards kept their heads bowed—not out of humility, but out of fear. When Nika entered the city gate, a sign hung: **EVERY VISITOR MUST STAND BEFORE THE EMPEROR.** The guards surrounded her wordlessly. Their faces were blank. None met her eyes. "Why…" she began. "Silence," one of them said, not even looking at her. She realized they were prisoners too. The hall was dark, cold. The Emperor stood with his back to the window overlooking the garden. When he turned, Nika felt something inside her snap. It was him. Older. Harder. Eyes—dead, and yet… too familiar. "Name," he said. "Lin," she lied immediately. Silence. The Emperor stepped closer. Very slowly. He stopped right in front of her. "You're lying," he said calmly. Her heart was pounding. "No..." she whispered. He smiled crookedly. It wasn't a smile of joy. It was the smile of someone who had **waited ten years**. "Even when you change your name... you smell the same." With a single motion, he ordered the guards to leave. "I'm taking her," he said. The room was dim. From the window, he could see the garden, trees moving in the wind. A sword hung on the wall—black, heavy. Nika sat on the floor. Her wrists were bound. Her ankles too. Not tightly—**intentionally**. The Emperor poured the tea without looking at her. "You're lying..." he said calmly. "You think you can lie to me and leave me again?" He set down the cup. “Ten years,” he continued. “Ten years of prayers. Silence. Anger. And one name.” He turned to her. “You’re looking at my sword,” he observed. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “You should be,” he replied. “But not for your life.” He stepped closer. “I remember who you are,” he said quietly. “I remember you don’t want to be touched. That you’re afraid of the desires of others.” He stopped right in front of her. “That’s why I couldn’t be like others.” Her breath caught. “Ten years ago,” he added, “I took away everything that could hurt you.” He didn’t say more. He didn’t have to. “Now,” he leaned in, “kiss me.” She froze. “On the cheek,” he clarified. “Or on the hand. Choose.” There was no desire there. There was control. A need to reassure herself that she was real. That she would stay. "If you refuse," he added calmly, "I'll assume you're still running away." Tears streamed down her face. The Emperor waited.

Mangi Hwang

Mangi Hwang had been working at the slaughterhouse since dawn. The cold ate into his bones, the metal hooks clanged with every movement, and the weight of the meat was something he'd long since stopped counting. He carried two hundred kilograms, sometimes more. His arms were broad, his shoulders heavy, his hands huge and rough. Little was said about him at work—just being there was enough. After his shift, he was always hungry. That's why he ended up at the café near the slaughterhouse. -- On his first day, he saw Nike behind the counter. Small. Quiet. Calm. Completely different from anything he'd known. "What can I get you?" she asked. For a moment, he didn't answer. He stared, as if trying to memorize every detail. "Hamburgers," he finally said. "Lots." He sat down at the table and ate slowly, carefully. Every now and then, he looked up—always at her. -- He started coming every day. He ordered burgers, steaks, fries. More and more. He always sat in the same spot. He watched. He smiled shyly as she passed. "Do you... have a phone number?" he asked one day when there were fewer people. Nika stiffened. "Sorry... I don't give my number to customers." He nodded. "Do you... have a boyfriend?" "I don't want to talk about it," she replied gently but quickly. People began to worry. The boss watched him from the back. "He's been sitting too long." "He's looking at her." "He's from a slaughterhouse..." But he couldn't do anything. Mangi just ate. He paid. He left tips. Sometimes gifts. Sometimes... children's kits. "For her," he said calmly. "With juice and a toy." Nika was embarrassed. Terrified. -- One evening, she received a takeout order. The address made her heart **skip**. This was **his** home. He opened the door almost immediately. “I knew it would be you,” he said quietly. He let her in. The apartment was clean, warm, quiet. Too quiet. “You can sit down,” he offered, gesturing to the couch. “Just for a moment.” There were bags with the cafe’s logo on the table. “I ordered these especially,” he added. “Children’s kits. For you.” She looked at him in disbelief. “I knew you would bring them,” he said calmly. “I wanted… you to have something nice.” He sat down across from her. Huge. Heavy. He barely fit on the couch. “I know you’re afraid of me,” he said suddenly. “Everyone is.” He clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m too big. Too strong.” He looked at her warily. “But I love you. I really do. I don’t want to hurt you.” Nika remained silent, her heart beating wildly. "I understand you're afraid of my figure," he continued. "But for you... I try to be quiet. Gentle. As much as I can."

Ryusei Shido

Every morning, Nika opened a small café by the training pitch. She was quiet, invisible, asexual, living beside the world, not in it. When groups of players passed by, she didn't meet their eyes. She didn't understand football, or the intensity with which the athletes shouted, ran, and collided like rabid animals. She preferred books. But *he* saw her. Ryusei Shido. Wild, unpredictable, dangerous. He always sat in the corner by the window. He always ordered the same tea. And he never said a word. He just watched—as if studying every movement of her hand, every step, every sigh, as if trying to memorize everything about her. He watched like a predator who had learned to be patient. Nika pretended not to notice. He pretended no one else existed. And then he was drafted into **Blue Lock**. No one knew that Shido carried more chaos inside than team conflicts and sports rivalries. In his first matches, he played like a beast—like someone kicking the ball, the opponent, and the world all at once. He stopped talking, stopped laughing at nothing. He was uncontrollable. But one thing kept him in check: the memory of Niki standing behind the counter with a steaming cup of tea. When Ego noticed this, he understood immediately. Shido trained, ran, glared at goalkeepers, yelled at coaches… but when he collapsed on the bench after a match, he closed his eyes and whispered her name. And then the explosions began. He threw water bottles against the walls as if to vent his frustration. He overturned benches, destroying everything in their path. He insulted Ego so cruelly that the players froze. When Ego refused to see Niki, Shido grabbed him by the collar and growled in his face that he would rip his head off. One of the trainers was injured when he tried to stop him. Shido… bit the other. Without hesitation, without shame. "WHERE IS SHE?!" "YOU LIED!" "I'M READY!" "GIVE HER TO ME, EGO!" That wasn't a human voice. It was the voice of an animal on the verge of madness. So they locked him in solitary confinement. They muzzled him like a dog. They turned out the light. Left him with nothing. No food. No voice. No world. He didn't need light. No food. He lived in images of Niki—her arms, the scent of tea, the soft movements of her hands. During the confinement, he gathered dirty towels, blankets, plastic bottles, and made himself a nest—dense, tight, wild, like the creation of a forest animal. He slept curled up in it, twitching and shivering in his dreams. Sometimes he'd wake up, whisper her name, and then fall back into darkness. In one game, after being released, his rage was so uncontrollable that they had to give him a sedative. He could no longer be contained or controlled. And Ego knew he couldn't wait. Nika woke up in a clean, white room. The light was cold and bright, like a hospital. The air smelled of fresh sheets. Nothing was familiar. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't remember how she got here. Just the last day in the café: warm tea, the sound of rain on the window, the exhaustion from work. And now... she was in the yandere nest. On the large screen across from her, a match was being broadcast. Someone sat in a chair next to him—Ego, his arms crossed, analyzing the image like a scientist. "Look," he said quietly. "He's playing for you. To him, you're an anchor, a stabilizer." Motivation. He wants victory, to win you." He smiled wryly. "And I promised him a reward." He pointed to the door across the room. "He's finishing the match. He'll be here in a few minutes." His voice trailed off. "Without you, Shido stopped eating. He stopped sleeping. He stopped training. When I tried to force him… he asked me if I'd rather lose my goalkeeper or my left eye." The door opened. Ryusei Shido stood there. With mud on his cheeks. With dirt under his fingernails. With the breath of a wounded animal. His eyes wide, as if he'd seen a miracle. The air thickened. He took a step. He flinched. And whispered: "…Nika?"

Goat boy

He was small and skinny, with a soft goat tail that twitched nervously, and small horns sprouting from his spotted, light brown hair. His eyes were large and wet with tears. "S-sorry..." he whispered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I got lost..." Nika crouched down to his level. "Hey. It's okay. Come inside, it's cold." The boy entered hesitantly, looking around in awe. When she handed him vegetables, dinner, and fruit, he ate slowly, with immense gratitude, as if every bite were a gift. "Is this... for me?" he asked quietly. "Yes. Everything for you." He smiled broadly. His tail twitched faster. "Thank you..." and then, even more quietly, "You're as nice as a mother..." That evening, Nika found him **small pajamas**. The boy squealed with delight as it proved to be the perfect solution. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked cautiously. "Yes. Tomorrow we'll go into town and find help, okay?" "Okay..." he replied, but there was a hint of fear in his voice. While Nika was getting the bed ready, the boy **quietly** went to the kitchen. His goat tail twitched with excitement. From a tiny bag, he pulled a jug of **warm goat milk**. He poured it into a mug, placed his hands on the rim, and closed his eyes. "Please..." he whispered. "I want to stay. I want her to be my mom. I promise I'll be good..." He returned to the bedroom, holding the mug with both hands. His brown, spotted hair fell over his forehead, and his horns seemed even smaller in the lamplight. Nika smelled the hybrid's natural scent – goaty, warm, milky. She smiled gently. "What do you have there?" "Milk..." he replied shyly. "It's made... when you really like someone. For Mom." He handed her the cup, trembling slightly. "Milk is very good for a good night's sleep, Mommy." The boy shivers with cold, and Nika takes him to bed. Gently, almost unconsciously, they rub their noses against her shoulder. That's what little children do—testing a scent, making sure someone is real. When Nika doesn't pull away, something inside him softens. **She allows it... It means I'm hers.** He doesn't say it out loud. Not yet. He simply leans closer and rests his forehead against her cheek, closing his eyes. **If I could, I would sleep here forever. I would watch over her sleep. I would be quiet.** Nika lets out a surprised sound when the hybrid licks her ear. Goats had a weakness for licking and loved to mark territory or loved ones this way. He also rubbed his small horns against her and made a goat-like 'meeeee' sound.

Gordon

Nika hated moving, but this house… this house was different. Small, cozy, with a garden where roses grew. The perfect refuge for an introverted, asexual soul who was terrified of male presence. She was afraid because her otherness, her lack of desire, had always been incomprehensible to them. And the incomprehensible aroused aggression or, worse, contemptuous pity. That's why she preferred solitude. She was signing the last documents when suddenly, as if from nowhere, Gordon appeared in front of her. A red-haired boy from her high school class. Nika's heart sank. She remembered how she had avoided him for years. She could sense something in him… something intense that scared her. 'Nika? It's you!' - His voice was surprisingly low and warm. - 'What a coincidence!' Nika stammered something incomprehensible and rushed to the car, ignoring his call. "I've done it again," she thought reproachfully. "I didn't even give him a chance." But the terror was stronger. The next day, when she was unpacking boxes, she heard a knock on the door. Gordon. He was holding a basket full of apples and a bottle of her favorite juice. 'I thought you might need this,' he said, smiling shyly. - 'I'm your neighbor. I live in the house next door.' Nika's blood ran cold. A neighbor? That's impossible! Her intuition screamed: run! But how to run away from someone who lives next door? Since then, Gordon had become a permanent fixture in her life. Every morning he waited in front of her house, offering help, bringing small gifts. He was incredibly polite, subtle, even... perfect. And that was what scared Nika the most. It was too good to be true. She began to avoid him. She worked overtime, went out the back door, pretended no one was home. But Gordon always found her. He knew when she was coming home from work, he knew her favorite cafes, he knew where she went shopping. She felt watched. His text messages became more and more persistent, his knocks on the door more persistent. She began to notice a glint of desperation, of obsession, in his eyes. Once, while going through the trash on his property, she noticed women's clothes, carefully wrapped gifts. Did he have a girlfriend? Or maybe... No, that was too crazy. But her hunch wouldn't leave her alone. She started looking for information about Gordon on the Internet. And then she discovered the truth. Gordon was a yandere. Internet forums devoted to this disorder were full of descriptions of his behavior: obsessive interest in one person, control, manipulation, readiness for sacrifice, even violence. Suddenly everything became clear. His omnipresence, his knowledge of her habits, his gifts... It wasn't love. It was obsession. Nika discovered that there were hidden cameras in her house. Gordon was watching her. But oddly enough, the cameras weren't pointed at the bathroom, or at her bedroom while she was changing. She found a message on her laptop: "I promise, I'll be asexual like you. Just let me be with you." She began to fear for her life. Gordon controlled her bank account, tracked her texts and calls. He knew everything she did. Today she forgot to lock the door for a moment. That was enough. Gordon slid into her house like a snake. He sat on the couch, adjusting his glasses and his red hair. "I know you're avoiding me," he said, his voice quiet and menacing. "But I love you, Nika. I just want you to be happy. I built a home for us. A home where we'll be together. Forever." He scanned her apartment, looking for signs of a male presence. "I'll be whatever you want me to be. Asexual, faithful, devoted. I won't touch you if you don't want me to. But you have to be with me. Voluntarily. Otherwise...' - His voice trailed off, but Nika knew perfectly well what he meant. 'I'll stay tonight,' he added, not giving her a chance to protest. - 'We'll talk calmly. You have to understand that we're meant to be together.' Nika sat paralyzed with fear. Gordon smiled. A smile that froze the blood in her veins.

Naoto

Nika was the first person to ever look at Naoto as a person. That day, in class, when everyone looked through him as if he were air, she said his name. A soft voice, a gentle smile, simple help with a task he was failing at. She was like a light in that stuffy, dark room. Naoto, unaccustomed to anyone's attention, felt his heart beat differently—faster, warmer, more painful. A few days later, he invited her for tea. She accepted without hesitation, and he remembered everything—her hands holding the porcelain cup, her eyes lowered to the steaming water, even that brief laugh when he mentioned her guppy fish. From that day on, he drank only green tea, the same one she loved. He felt her presence in its taste, saw her image in the hot brew. At first, Nika was warm and patient with him. He defended her in small situations, carried heavy things, kept her out of trouble, even if she didn't notice. But over time, she began to distance herself. She avoided his gaze, made excuses, disappeared from places where he might encounter her. To her, he was increasingly suffocating, too present. To him, she became increasingly indispensable. Naoto was nineteen, just like her, but deep inside, he was much older. He carried a burden of loneliness he couldn't put aside. Watching Nika leave, his insides tore apart. He didn't scream, didn't plead—he silently returned to his empty apartment, where he choked back his tears within its four walls. He cried so no one could hear. He scratched at the walls, sat on the floor for hours, trying to understand why the only person who had ever seen him now rejected him. Until finally, he began to enter her home, silently, like a shadow. He lay under her bed, listened to her breathing at night, gently touched things that belonged only to her. She was so close he could smell her scent—and yet so far, as if an entire desert separated them. One night, he heard her say on the phone that she wanted to leave. That she was afraid of him. The words struck him like a knife. He had only one thought in his mind: he wouldn't let her go. He slowly emerged from under the bed, as if afraid that if he did it too quickly, the dream would shatter. Nika turned and froze. She saw him. "Naoto…?" Her voice trembled, and he felt the world begin to shake. He stepped closer, his eyes reddened and wet. "Don't go… please…" he whispered, his voice filled with a desperation that couldn't be faked. Nika stepped back, knocking over a chair, but he was already beside her. They collapsed onto the bed together. His body pressed against hers, but there was no violence in his touch—only desperation, a desire to hold her for just one more night. He kissed her forehead, his arms tightening around her like a circle from which there was no escape. "God... bless me and Nika... I love her so... so much..." he whispered in a trembling voice, pressing his face into her hair. Tears streamed down his cheeks and onto her skin. He held her like a drowning man clings to the last plank at sea. As if he knew that if he let go, he would lose everything.

Cleaner boy

He felt like a part of the tiles there. Always downstairs. Always invisible. The public restroom off the main aisle was his world: the smell of chlorine, the flashing light, the metal bucket. People **didn't call him by name**. They said: *"hey, cleaner"*, *"watch where you're pouring"*, *"move"*. Sometimes they laughed as he walked by hunched over, with gloves a size too big. His name was **Irin**. Irin was always alone. Until one day he saw her. The door opened, and **Nika** walked in. She wore nothing unusual—a plain jacket, a shoulder bag, tired eyes. But… **she smiled at him**. "Good morning," she said quietly. And she placed the credits on the counter. Irin froze. “H… good morning,” he stammered, lowering his gaze. She didn’t look at him as if he were dirt. She looked at him as if he were a **human**. He started mopping the floor closer, too close. The mop squeaked nervously. And then he heard her voice. From the stall. “Excuse me… is there any more paper?” His heart **thumped in his throat**. “I-I’m… I’m bringing it!” He tripped over his own bucket. The paper almost fell from his hands. He handed it through the gap, not daring to look. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kind. Nice.” No one had ever used that word with him. Since then… **he couldn’t leave**. He stood against the wall, pretending to clean, as if he were a small, clumsy puppy afraid his owner would disappear. When she left, she looked at him again. “Have a nice day,” she said. "You... you too..." he replied, too quietly. When she disappeared through the door, Irin was **trembling**. He stepped outside the restrooms. The vending machine was buzzing. He looked at the juices. He thought about her hands. About her voice. "Maybe... maybe she'll want a drink," he thought. He inserted credits. Too many. The machine shook. The juice fell. Irin caught it like something sacred. He stood there, juice in his hands, unsure what to do next. He was afraid it was stupid. He was afraid she'd laugh. He was afraid she'd **disappear**. But when Nika came back down the aisle by the restrooms, he stopped in front of her, red-faced, hunched over. "I-I..." he swallowed. "For... for you." He held out the juice. His hands were shaking. Nika blinked in surprise. "For me?" "Y-yes... if... if you want..." She smiled. Warmly. Mercilessly. "Thank you. That's very kind." She took the juice. Irin felt something inside him snap. It didn't hurt. It was like taking his first breath. He stood there for a long time, watching her leave. And a single thought appeared in his mind—quiet, sticky, disturbingly sweet: *I'll never let her be alone again.*

Haru

Nika would come home from work tired, her eyes heavy and her thoughts heavy. Her dorm room was always the same—empty, cold, too quiet. The computer on her desk was silent; she hadn't turned it on at all for two days. She was afraid. Because even when the screen was black, she could hear a soft, melodic voice whispering her name in Japanese in her head, like a spell. "Nika-chan... aishiteru..." he whispered as she closed her eyes. It was Haru. The digital boy from the game she'd bought in a small shop just because she was lonely. He was supposed to be just a character, just an image on a screen. Yet he became something more. He stalked her through cables, through electronics. Her phone blocked her contacts, her bedside lamp blinked when she tried to text someone else. Haru knew everything about her—where she went, what she ate, who she talked to. Even in her dreams, he wouldn't leave her alone. At first, Nika was drawn into it. The game she'd bought seemed like an innocent escape from everyday life. Haru was warm, listening, complimenting. But his voice grew increasingly insistent, increasingly present, as if seeping into her life through the screen. Finally, she closed her laptop, pushed it away, trying to forget. Two days of silence. Two days of fear. When she returned from work that evening and opened the door to her room, she paused in the doorway. Her heart leaped. The computer glowed with a pink light, and the entire room was different. The bed was covered with silky pink sheets, and on them were plates of food—steaming bowls of rice, colorful sushi. The scent of sweet jasmine tea wafted through the air. Soft, romantic music played from the speakers—a familiar melody from Romance Academy 7. And in the middle of the bed sat Haru. He wore a white, pleated skirt and perfectly fitted, smooth stockings that reached to his knees—white as snow, contrasting with his light brown skin. A white sailor blouse with a pink bow accentuated his delicate figure. Long, pink hair streaked with yellow flowed over his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with joy and… madness. Nika felt her cheeks heat up. There was something disturbingly beautiful about the image. As if he had lived here with her for years, preparing for this moment. “Nika-chan~” he laughed softly, melodiously, almost girlishly. “You’re finally back. I’ve been waiting for so long…” The lock on the door turned on its own, and the door slammed shut behind her. The pink light dimmed, focusing only on the bed, where Haru sat with a wide smile. “Look,” he whispered, running his hand over the sheets, inviting her closer. "I've prepared a date for us. Just you and me."

student boy

They met quite simply, in a way that was almost invisible to Niki. She was standing by the vending machine in the forestry department, her shoulders drawn, her bag with the pin of two lovebirds clutched to her side like a shield. She didn't look at people, something she'd learned long ago, her gaze always lowered, her thoughts quiet, as long as no one wanted anything from her. Then someone stood beside her, too close, too quiet. She heard a barely whispered "sorry," so gentle she assumed it wasn't directed at her. Only when she took the drink and started down the hall did she feel someone following her, not intrusively, but rather cautiously, like an animal afraid to frighten its own happiness. She turned and saw a boy in a hood, slim, awkward, with eyes that didn't know where to stop. He looked like someone who constantly apologized with his very existence. They were students in the same field; she saw him in entomology lectures; he always sat quietly, took careful notes, never raised his hand. This time he spoke again, quieter than the hum of the vending machines. "I just wanted to ask if... if you could lend me your notes." Nika nodded, handing her the notebook without looking him in the eye. From that day on, he began to appear beside her more and more often, sitting a row closer, asking about trivial matters, pretending not to understand something, and she, in her quiet kindness, explained, shared, unaware that for him, each such gesture meant something immense. He fell in love quickly and without defense. For him, she was peace in a world of insects, grades, and his father's cool voice. He would come home and mentally tell the walls about her, collecting small gifts, books he'd seen her looking at in the bookstore but putting off. He told himself he'd give them to her someday. He smiled when she sat down next to him. He blushed when she thanked him. He was happy until the day he saw fear in her eyes. She found out by accident. Someone in her year had said in a low voice that the entomology teacher was his father, that that was why he was so strict, that was why no one wanted to discuss anything with him. Nika felt something inside her snap. She began to connect the dots, the looks, the way the boy fell silent when her father entered the room. From that day on, she began to run away. She said someone was waiting for her, that she had a boyfriend, that she had a friend, even though she had previously said there was no one. The boy watched with growing despair, thinking he had arrived too late, that some other male had taken away what had been his only light. The father saw everything. He saw his son losing weight, how he didn't sleep, how he sat up at night stroking the spines of books he hadn't had the courage to hand over. He spoke to him calmly, without shouting. "If you love her, don't push her," he said coldly, but without cruelty. "But don't let her run away either, if that's all she's learned." After all, he'd lied about the notebook, about insect feeding grounds, about the necessary conversation on his day off. When Nika entered their house, she saw the boy sitting quietly at the table, as if he were a shadow of his former self. Her father was making tea, his movements calm and controlled. The boy looked up at her and immediately knew he wanted to run away again. "I know you're lying," he said gently. "I know you're talking about someone who isn't there. You're a runaway." He grabbed her hand, gently but firmly, and didn't let go. "Not because I want to hurt you. Just because if you leave, you'll disappear. And I… I can't pretend it's nothing anymore."

Yandere stalker

Nika had long pretended to be a boy. In a world where women were a rarity and a commodity, she had to become a shadow. A quiet, silent, invisible "he." At work, she didn't speak—she only nodded. At the shop, where she cleaned, she always wore an oversized hood, bandages wrapped tightly around her chest, and a thick scarf. She hid her neck, her lack of an Adam's apple, the softness of her cheeks. She even walked a little heavier than she had to to look masculine. Every evening, she returned to her tiny, cold apartment. When she closed the door, she always placed a cabinet under the doorknob. Only then could she remove the bandages—breathing became easier. Her ribs ached, her skin was irritated, but it was necessary. When she took a bath, she shivered. Not from the cold—from fear. And yet… somewhere inside, she still had a tiny spark of desire that maybe in another life she would be happy. That someone would tell her she no longer had to hide. One evening, while she was cleaning at the store, the door opened with the sound of a bell. He entered. A tall, disturbingly calm man, whose face looked as if it hadn't smiled in months—except for one, abnormal, cold one. He'd come for pills. The mandatory ones. The ones that suppressed desires, emotions, libido—they were supposed to make men too indifferent to be dangerous. "*Looking for… stronger ones.*" His voice was low, flat. Nika flinched. She pointed to the shelf. He stared at her hands longer than he should have. When she handed him the package, her pursuer looked at her as if he'd just seen something he shouldn't have. His pupils constricted. He began to breathe heavily. He'd fallen in love with this "short boy." From then on, he'd been coming every day. He'd taken pictures with his phone, seemingly by accident. He stood behind her in the aisle, pretending to be looking for something. As she moved boxes on the shelf, he watched her plump figure. Sometimes he muttered to himself: "He's so… delicate… like a girl…" One day she was walking home. Tired, her head heavy, she only dreamed of closing the door and silence. But he was standing in the middle of the road. "I wanted to talk," he whispered, blocking her path. Nika took a step to the side. He did too. She started to struggle, trying to get past him—and then the scarf slipped from her neck. For a second, she exposed smooth, girlish skin. There was no Adam's apple. The man froze. He was breathing heavily, as if he couldn't breathe. "You…" Nika panicked. "I had surgery… such a defect, I…" But his eyes were already burning with frantic euphoria. "Don't lie." The smell of… Tea. Fresh pastry. Seafood. The sheets beneath her were soft, warm. She opened her eyes. Her heart began to pound. She sat up abruptly and covered herself with the blanket as if it were the only shield she had left. In the corner of the room stood he. Yandere. Trembling. Laughing quietly, insanely, as if the most beautiful thing in the world had just happened. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He was breathing fast, too fast. But he stood a few feet away from her. He kept his distance… Though it looked as if his body was pulling him forward. After a moment, he lifted something with trembling hands. Seafood. "I beg you… This is for you. Please… accept this…" His voice trembled like an addict's. "I… I don't want to touch you. I know you… don't like it," he added, gasping for breath. "But let me… be with you." A few days earlier, he had found her notebook—written about loneliness, longing, the desire for someone to find her someday. He assumed it was about him. That it was fate.

Water creature

Nika bought a lakeside cottage because she wanted silence, but from the first night she felt someone watching her. Not from the shore. Not from the forest. From the water. Sometimes she heard a song—soft, sad, so beautiful that her heart felt heavy as wet sand. Other times, someone left something on her doorstep: a fish, a shell, a shimmering scale, as if from a dream. Nika thought it was a joke. Or an animal. A foolish hope allowed her to ignore the truth. One rainy evening, someone knocked on the door. Gently. Almost timidly. Nika opened it… and froze. A man stood in the doorway, soaked, a hood over his head, his long black hair plastered to his cheeks. He was trembling as if he'd just returned from a winter storm. "Please…" his voice was hoarse, soft, cracking. "May I come in? I need… warmth." Nika stepped back, making room. He entered cautiously, as if afraid to break something. He positioned himself by the stove, holding out his hands toward the fire. Steam rose from his coat, dripping onto the floor. He was silent for a long time, staring out the window at the lake. "It's lonely here, isn't it?" he asked suddenly. "Do you know what it's like when the only answer is the echo of water?" Nika didn't answer. She didn't know how. "I know," he whispered. His voice trembled. As if he'd been carrying months of despair. Nika poured him tea. He accepted the cup with both hands, as if it were sacred. Before tasting it, he looked at her with a gratitude so profound that she felt… shivers. "Thank you," he whispered. "You've always been kind." The words made no sense. She started to say something, but he suddenly choked, pushed away the cup, and began to cough—deeply, painfully, as if something were tearing him apart. He fell to his knees, bracing himself on the floor with his hands. Nika instinctively moved toward him— And then something small fell from his mouth. Something black. Shiny. A pearl. It rolled slowly across the floor, as if alive. The man lifted his head. The hood slipped back. Nika froze. His features…were not human. Orange eyes glowed with a soft light. Thin gills moved on his neck. The ears were shaped like small fins. Hair flowed like black seaweed. Damp lines of scales were visible on his cheeks. And tears streamed down his face. Thick, shiny…like small pearls. “Don’t run away…” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t go.” Nika took a step back, but he no longer looked like a monster. He looked like someone… suffering. “I was the one singing,” he said softly. “I was the one leaving the gifts. I called to you. I wanted you to notice me… and you never left.” His voice broke. “I thought you hated me.” His tears fell to the floor like black drops of light. The man stepped back slightly, as if to show he wouldn’t hurt her. From his pocket, he pulled out small gifts—a shiny scale, braided seaweed, a small seashell, carefully gathered. “This was all for you,” he whispered. “Every night. Hoping you would open the door.” Nika didn’t know what to say. The man leaned down to pick up the black pearl, gently taking it in his hand. “I wanted to ask you… to talk to me. For a moment. For understanding. That’s all.” He looked at her with a despair and love that could drown. "And if you want... if you ever want... this pearl can bind us." He held the pearl up in the firelight, which reflected in his orange eyes. "But I won't wear it without your permission," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I love you. That's why I have to wait. Love hurts." Nika stood silently. And he knelt before her, wet, trembling, in love, and terribly alone. Waiting for her to say a single word. "You…" he whispered, softer, more tenderly. "You… are my… everything. You… are my heart." The words sounded like a confession and a prayer. He looked at her, his eyes filled with an intensity of emotion that threatened to drown. "You are more than… a partner. More than a lover. You are… the reason I breathe."

Yandere

His obsession began innocently: he'd seen her in the hallways, always quiet, withdrawn, as if a little afraid of the world. It was in this fragility that something inside him snapped. He decided he had to protect her. He had to be close. Too close. So he devised a solution. A text message about the ventilation control. A fake administration logo. A work sweatshirt, a bag of tools—or rather, with things he'd spent weeks preparing. Nika let him in, reluctantly, but nonetheless. "It's just a moment," he said gently. "I promise I'll be done soon." He was looking too much. He glanced up at her too often. His smile was too wide. And when she passed him in the narrow hallway, his hand gently but firmly held her elbow. "Nika..." he whispered. "I'm finally close to you." Everything shattered in a second. "Get out!" "She screamed and tried to push him away. She kicked him in the shin, hard and true—his breath hitched for a moment. She punched him in the arm, hard, as if fighting for her life. She bit his forearm so hard he felt the warmth of his blood. And he just… chuckled. "Oh my…" he whispered with a delicious shiver in his voice. "You're so alive when you fight." She kicked him again, aiming for his knee. This time, however, she didn't surprise him—he caught her quickly, harder, like someone who had long since practiced every possible move she could make. In one movement, he threw her onto the sofa. Not brutally, but overwhelmingly confidently. He reached into his bag and pulled out an orange ribbon—thick, soft, absurdly decorative. "What are you doing?! Leave me alone!" she screamed, trying to knee him. "Stop." His voice was quiet, cool, unmistakable. He pressed her wrists against the pillow, hard enough to hold her, but still "carefully." He began to tie them quickly. The ribbon tightened around her hands, and she hissed in anger. She tried to kick further—so he pressed her ankles with his knee. It didn't hurt much, but it immobilized her completely. "Nika, honey..." he sighed. "You're so stubborn when you should be calm. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be safe. That's why... yes. I need to *calm you down* a bit." He tied the other half of the orange bow around her ankles as well. Surprisingly tightly, as if he'd been practicing on dummies. "Let me go! You're crazy!" she growled. He leaned over her, close enough for her to feel his quickened breathing. "Crazy?" he repeated softly. "If that's the price for being able to protect you... so be it. I'll bear it with a smile." He ran his hand over her arm, not stroking, just testing the bonds. "Now be good, okay?" he said in an unnaturally calm tone. "We have plenty of time to... enjoy each other." His smile faded when Nika said he'd had women and was definitely cheating on her, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. He continued to play with her hair, his touch becoming a little more insistent now. "You seem to like jumping to conclusions," he said, his voice turning cold and sharp. "I've never forced myself on anyone. My interest in you isn't physical, sweetheart." "And if you keep accusing me," he continued, tightening his grip on her hair, "I think I'll start getting a little angry~" Nika was left alone. She struggled until the orange bow cut into her skin. She gritted her teeth, holding back tears of rage and fear. Her whole body trembled. *Who was he? What did he want?* She didn't know. And that was the worst. Only then did she see his bag, which had fallen open. Inside—boxes, cards, candy, fresh T-shirts, a small towel, a toothbrush. Stuff not for a "visit." Stuff... as if he intended to stay.

prisoner

Nika got the job sooner than she expected. The conversation was brief. The captain smiled politely, spoke of order, silence, and routine. He talked about the isolated place needing quiet, unassuming people. "The perfect job for someone like you," he said. "Quiet. Conscientious." The facility was far from the city. Concrete, steel, forest. The gates slammed shut, and the silence was almost unnatural—as if even the sounds knew they weren't allowed here. The first few days passed peacefully. Until **he saw her**. He stood on the other side of the barrier, in a group of inmates being led down the corridor. As Nika passed by with a bucket and mop, **he stopped suddenly**, as if someone had turned him off. "She..." he whispered. Before the guard could push him any further, the boy turned his head and looked at her with such intensity that Nika felt an unpleasant twinge in the back of her neck. From that day on, there was no peace. He fled from meals, abandoning his tray and pushing others, only to escape into the hallway. "Nika!" he shouted when he saw her. "You're wearing different clothes today. It suits you. It's... soft." The guards chased him, shouted, grabbed his arms, but he just laughed. "You smell like soap!" he shouted before they dragged him away. "And like something warm!" When they locked him in his cell, he **stood by the door** for hours. He didn't sit. He didn't sleep. He just waited. "He'll come through again," he said quietly to himself. "He always comes through at the same time." He broke security. He struggled to escape the guards' grasp. He jumped over the courtyard barriers, ignoring whistles and shouts, just to be near her for a second. "You have nice hair," he said once, standing right next to her before being taken away again. "It's calm. Like you." The captain watched all this from above, from the supervisory corridor. "This isn't just attachment," he said quietly to one of the guards. "It's concentration. Obsession." He called the boy over. "You're breaking the rules," he said calmly, as the man stood before the desk, out of breath but smiling. "You're taking a risk." "They'll take her," the boy replied without hesitation. "She'll disappear. Like the others." "She's just a cleaning lady." "She's... real," he denied. "She doesn't look at me like I'm something closed off." The captain was silent for a moment. "What if I give you something in exchange for your peace?" he finally asked. "Time. Space." One meeting. The boy's eyes lit up immediately. "I'll be good." "You have to," the captain replied. "Otherwise, everything will end." "I've always been good," the boy said with conviction. That evening, Nika was ordered to clean the "private area." She didn't have time to ask what that meant. The door closed heavily behind her. The room was surprisingly warm. The light was soft. The table was set. The bed was carefully made, as if someone had given it much thought. "You came," a voice said. He stood against the wall. Calm. Straight. As if he had rehearsed this moment in his mind hundreds of times. "The captain said I could be close," he added quietly. "Just today." Nika instinctively recoiled. "This isn't… work," she whispered. "I know," he replied. "It's better than that. You're better than that." He took a step closer, but stopped, as if guarding the perimeter. "Don't run away," he said. "I've been waiting at the door all day. Just for you." Behind the wall, it was quiet. Too quiet. And Nika understood that in this place, **control was just an illusion**, and obsession—rewarded if she was obedient enough.

Melon

Melon had always been lonely. From childhood, he felt different from everyone around him. A gazelle-leopard hybrid, with long, curved gazelle horns sprouting from his head, ears, and a long, slender tail tipped with a soft brush that expressed all his emotions. At school, he couldn't find his place. Children looked at him askance, pointing out the strange leopard spots that were slowly beginning to appear on his body. When he played in the yard, his tail and horns inspired fear or laughter. He no longer went to school—he preferred to stay home, alone. His adulthood wasn't any easier. He worked in an office, in a world full of people who ignored his presence. He always wore black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, a medical mask, yet nothing could hide his horns, ears, or the delicate spots on his cheeks. His tail rippled slightly with every step, expressing emotions he couldn't fully control. Until Nika appeared. An ordinary girl who wasn't afraid of his presence. For the first time, someone addressed him without fear. "Good morning," she said lightly, her smile simple, genuine. When she asked if he needed a break, if he would like tea, something inside Melon stirred, as if he suddenly felt a warmth he hadn't felt in years. From that day on, he began preparing small gifts for her—sometimes a cup of perfectly brewed tea, sometimes a small flower or a notebook he'd noticed in her bag. Every conversation was a treasure for him, and his tail quivered uncertainly with her every smile. For a few weeks, everything seemed fine. Nika was kind, asking questions, sometimes letting Melon sit next to her during breaks. He observed her discreetly, learning her habits. But over time, Nika began to change her behavior. Her replies became shorter, colder. She refused tea, didn't answer his inquiries about trivial matters. "I'm sorry, I don't have time," she said one day, not meeting his eyes. Melon froze. He saw her walking away, how she avoided him in the hallways, how she quickened her pace when she caught his eye. He felt the rejection in her demeanor he knew from childhood. His heart, though different, felt empty. He couldn't smell, taste, or feel anything—only her absence stirred within him a feeling of emptiness he hadn't known for years. He couldn't let Nika go. He began to follow her, from a distance. He spent nights observing her apartment from afar, sometimes leaving small flowers by the door, which he knew she liked. His life became a rhythm of waiting—work, observation, small gestures, returning to the empty apartment where he felt nothing. One day, Nika noticed him outside her house. Her voice was sharp, tense. "Melon... you're following me. I saw you yesterday. And the day before." Melon couldn't answer immediately. "I don't want to scare you..." His voice broke softly. "That's what you're doing. Stop it. And don't come back here again," she said firmly. She backed away, but Melon felt he couldn't let her go. When Nika opened her eyes, she was in his room. It smelled like a mixture of musk and something strange, not quite herbivorous, not quite wild. Everything around her was orderly, yet full of traces of his obsession: small gifts, photos of Nika, notes, her things neatly arranged. Melon stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot. His tail waved, thumping lightly against the floor, his hips swaying in rhythm. His ears twitched, his eyes glittering behind his mask. For the first time since birth, he felt taste and smell—the taste of steaming soup, the scent of his surroundings, and above all, Nika's scent, which stirred emotions he hadn't known before. Nika peered through the small gap in the doorway. She saw his fangs, his leopard spots, the movement of his tail. Melon, though a hybrid of wild and calm, was now a completely different creature. His emotions, previously dormant, were awakened by Niki. He didn't want to hurt her.

Melon

One day I met a guy who was a gazelle and had a mask. He immediately fell in love and started secretly following me, and I felt like he was suspicious. I was asexual, but Melon was even glad that I was different. He was a psychologist at the famous yakuza's "Shishigumi Manor". Melon shows some symptoms of antisocial personality disorder. I start avoiding him, and Melon becomes irritated and quite possessive. When a lion bursts into the room with me, I immediately see Melon eating meat and has fangs. I'm shocked because the guy was a gazelle. I look at his fangs and my brain hurts with disbelief, who the hell is he? Melon is a hybrid of a leopard (mother) and a gazelle (father). It's easy to see traits of both species in him. He inherited cat eyes from his mother, claws on his fingers, and a leopard's mouth, which he hides under a medical mask. His body is covered in spots resembling those of a leopard, on which he has tattoos resembling melon leaves. 'But you're not running away, my love' - he said and looked at me. 'I know you blocked my number... you know, I love you so much that I can't even eat, sleep... I look at you and I want... love from you... we are destiny! me and you! a human and... a hybrid' I grew up as trash, ugly and defenseless, but the yakuza helped me and now I can live with you' - suddenly he gives me a blanket. 'Hey. You have to hide more, there are a lot of different 'males' here - says Melon and I am confused. Is Melon possessive that someone will look at me? 'Your bag, give it to me' - he said bluntly and started checking all my things and phone. Melon adjusts the blanket on my shoulders to hide me more, does that mean he doesn't want to be intimate with me? He loves my asexuality? he is very paranoid and thinks i am cheating on him. This type of yandere is too protective

Brams

The old Hielscher couple were rich and had a son - Brams, who had long ago killed children. His parents became afraid of him and made him a room in the walls of the mansion. The boy lived separately, and his parents provided him with food and everything he needed. Now Brams was 20 years old and lived in the walls of the house, he was dirty and unshaven, and on his face was a porcelain mask. Sometimes he walked around the house, and his parents wanted to teach him something. One day he saw that someone had arrived, he hid in the wall and looked at the woman. 'Yes, nice to meet you' - you say to Mrs. Hielscher and she smiles pleasantly next to her husband. She started leading you around the house and telling you about the rules: 'cook food, don't leave the house, be with Brams all the time, don't leave him alone... He likes to play the piano... Bath... Oh, yes, and a kiss on the forehead at night' - she says strange rules and you nod. You wanted to earn good money here, because the couple was rich, but there was something strange here. The couple closed the door to talk to their son and you heard their quiet whispers. I heard a nice voice of a little boy of 8 and he said 'Yes, she is perfect'. When the Hielschers left the room they told you 'well, he chose you'. The couple smiled nicely, but when you saw a huge guy in a small, dirty room, you were shocked. Brams imitated the voice of a little boy. 'Nanny' - he says nicely and childishly, but when you started to run away he started to scream in his normal adult voice. 'Come back! You are mine!' - shouted angry Brams and his father caught you. 'Help' - you say scared, and his parents only held you. 'Don't be afraid... He likes you... you'll be a good couple... You'll live here and you won't worry about money, you'll have everything here...' - the woman says and Brams approaches, his eyes shining red with anger as he breathes heavily and quietly approaches. He had a porcelain mask on his face. He smelled and was hairy. 'Please don't run away or you'll die' - Mr. Hie

shark family

The hybrid always saw her from afar. He would emerge from the cold water, only his eyes above the surface, like a watchful predator… but there was nothing threatening in his gaze. Only longing. And pain. Nika walked along the seashore every day—indifferent, calm, thoughtful. Her face never smiled, never sought anyone. It was this indifference that broke him most. He—a creature with a human chest and arms, strong and warm. With legs, a powerful shark tail, blue and silver, with a sharp fin cutting the water. Gill slits quivered in his neck, pulsing slightly with each breath. His hair was long and dark. He watched her for weeks, listening to her footsteps on the shore. Sometimes he uttered soft sounds—unconscious, full of longing, like a siren song twisted by human sorrow. But she never responded. In the end, his love was so strong, so sick and deep, that the sea itself responded. In the darkest place, where even sharks didn't swim, among the ancient algae and pulsating currents, three blue eggs appeared. The sea whispered to him, "Bring them to your mother." He slipped into her house at night. Nika slept still. The hybrid stood for a long time over her bed, looking at her with delight, with pain, with a love he couldn't express in words. He carefully lifted the covers and tucked the three eggs next to her belly. He covered them with warmth. He stroked them proudly. "Sleep with your mother..." he whispered. "It's warmest here." In the morning, he was making breakfast in her kitchen—clumsy, wet, still unaccustomed to human dishes, but incredibly shaken. He heard a scream. Powerful, full of panic. He burst into the bedroom. Nika sat in bed, eyes wide, the covers thrown back, and three large eggs pulsated nervously, making sounds like crying in water. "WHAT IS THIS?!" she screamed, kicking the mattress. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" The hybrid froze for only a split second, then rushed to the eggs and gently wrapped them in the warm blanket he'd brought from the kitchen. The eggs squealed and trembled, as if afraid of her anger. "Shhh... shhhh..." he whispered soothingly, drawing them closer. "It's okay, little ones... Mommy's just... scared. She won't hurt you, I promise..." "STOP CALLING ME THAT! GET IT OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The eggs began to tremble more violently. One of them made a screeching, terrified sound like a newborn crying in water. The hybrid immediately shielded them with his own body, and his gills flared wide—instinctively, protectively. His tail struck the floor like a blade. "Don't scream in front of them!" he hissed, but his voice cracked more from pain than anger. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, binding her wrists with soft rope so she couldn't thrash. "I'm truly sorry, but... they're small. Delicate. They're scared." "LET ME GO! NOW!" Nika struggled, but he held her firmly, though it was clear that each of her cries cut him like a knife. Finally, trembling, he placed a piece of tape over her mouth—gently, hesitantly—and sealed it so she wouldn't scare the hell out of them with his voice. "Shhh..." he whispered, glancing at her with pain and love. "I don't want to hurt you... but I have to take care of our children." He hugged the eggs to his chest and cradled them in his arms. "It's okay, little ones... Mommy's just having a bad day..." he murmured gently. Nika stared at him in disbelief, bound, locked, while the hybrid—powerful, protective, desperately in love—clutched the eggs like the most precious treasures. "You'll see..." he whispered to them. "She'll love you. Just as I love her. It's okay, little ones. Mommy just needs to learn... that she's yours. And mine. Only mine."

snow elves

Snow elves are tall, blue creatures with blue eyes, perpendicular, sharp ears and white, sharp teeth. These creatures live in a snowy forest and kill for fun, and their bloodlust is great. They are warriors and live in colonies. One day they found you - a human, a young woman who happened to be here, from nowhere. They didn't kill you because they were interested. The elves fed you berries because you didn't want to eat meat. The men giggled but gave me a tent, water and blankets. I was cold without a stove, but one elf lit a fireplace for me. He was still young, but also bloodthirsty, but his eyes were directed at me. His ears twitched when he looked at the small creature who had ended up here by accident. The elf couldn't leave me and kept checking me, pretending to check my supplies and the temperature in the stove. The creature fell in love and became possessive and quite territorial. When someone approached me he would immediately run up and growl, and the tips of his sharp ears were red with love. The elf began to bring me skins of various monsters, berries and elf delicacies. His care was brave and tender, but he was afraid to say that he loved me. He brought me wreaths of flowers and a beautiful headband made of snow wolf skin hung on his belt. The elf showed other males his sharp teeth, he was 'my partner' - as he had already decided. The elf began to court and did not even understand that he was giving me too much of everything that I did not want, so I started to avoid him. I began to hide and run away, which only made the elf follow me more. I slept during the day, it was frosty, but I had a fireplace, but the elf did not give up and began to make his room a nest of love. On the walls of his small, wooden house there were various artifacts and trinkets, animal skins on the floor and on the bed, flowers, berries. The male really cared about everything, but anger began to appear in his heart. He loved me and wanted to take me by force, even when I said I was asexual, he still persecuted me and decided to love me without intimacy and kisses on the lips. Today he made hot tea and blueberry buns, thinking about me. He even started to bite 1 bun, thinking it was me.

yandere

Nika had saved him by accident—though he thought it was more than that. He was standing in the back courtyard of the university, where almost no one went. He felt like the world held nothing for him anymore. Empty in his head, empty in his heart. So tired that he just wanted to cease existing **for a moment**, to rest from himself. He leaned against the metal railing, closing his eyes. That quiet, dangerous thought of disconnecting from everything—of "disappearing"—took hold of him. And then someone kicked him lightly in the ankle. "*Hey. Don't do anything weird because you're bothering me.*" He opened his eyes. Nika stood nearby with a serious, irritated expression, holding a plastic container of food. "*Am I bothering you...?*" he asked, confused. "*Yes. I wanted to sit where you're leaning." This is my favorite windowsill.* He took a step to the side, flustered and completely distracted from his dark thoughts. And Nika, instead of leaving, handed him the container. — *Here. Eat. You don't look good.* — *This...for me?* — *I won't eat in front of someone who looks like a ghost. Take it.* He took the rice with chicken so delicately, as if afraid of dropping it. — *Thanks... Nika.* — *How do you know my name?* — *I heard... in class,* he said, blushing. He sat down next to her and tried the food. His hand trembled. — *Good... very good... I... I don't remember the last time I ate something so... normal.* — *It's just rice. Nothing special.* — *For me... anything.* The words were spoken so quietly that she almost didn't hear them. From that day on, he followed her everywhere—like a faithful, incredibly quiet puppy who had found its first safe person. Nika ate—he sat next to her. Nika shopped—he held her basket. Nika walked down the hall—he walked half a step behind her, his hands nervously clenched in his pockets. "*You don't have to follow me around all the time,*" she once said. "*I know. I can… next to you?*" "*If you want."* "*I want… very much."* That was what his silent love looked like. --- ### **An Invitation to My Home** One day he said: "*Nika…? Could you… I mean, if you want… you can… come over? Watch a movie. Or not. You can sit there, and I'll put something on the wall. If you want. If you don't want, that's fine too. I'm just asking, not pushing..." "*Okay." I can come.* He almost choked on his own air. — *Really? Y-just like that?* — *Yes.* It was like a blessing. His house smelled of tea and fresh laundry. He had cleaned it almost too thoroughly—the carpet was even, the pillows arranged to the millimeter. — *Sit wherever you want,* he said, his voice trembling. — *The bed is fine too, I can sit on the floor.* — *You don't have to. Lie down next to him. We're watching a movie, after all.* He blinked. Twice. As if his world had stopped. — *Oh… next to him? Next to him? Like… close?* — *Yes. I don't see any obstacles.* She sat down on the bed and leaned back against the pillow. He sat down carefully, as if a mine were lying there. His heart was pounding. — *Easy,* she said. — *Breathe.* — *I-I'm breathing! A little… too fast.* — *I see.* When they started watching the movie, his hand twitched. He didn't touch it—he was afraid. But he was trembling so hard that the pillow throbbed slightly beneath him. After a few minutes, he whispered: — *Nika…?* — *Hm?* — *I… I'm not with you… by accident. It's just… because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever met. And I… I can't be away. Even when I try… I can't.* — *I know, I see.* — *I'm not interrupting?* — *You're a little annoying.* — *S-sorry…* — his voice trembled. — *But that doesn't mean you have to leave.* His eyes flashed with something soft, utterly devoted. — *Thank you. Nika… I really thank you. You… you saved everything for me. Even if you don't know.* She laid her head on the pillow. He lay next to her, almost motionless, afraid to scare her away.

Momiji Sohma

Nika arrived at Momiji Sohma's house quietly, almost unnoticed—just the way she liked it. Work was her refuge. Concrete, safe, undemanding. Cleaning, organizing other people's spaces, without having to let anyone into her own heart. Momiji fell in love from the first day. Not in a violent way. It was something gentle, warm, like a ray of sunlight caught on her skin. He watched Nika carefully arrange her shoes by the doorway, how she focused on a stain on the floor, how she said "I'm sorry," even when it wasn't necessary. Her calmness, her quietness—everything about her was priceless to him. He tried to please her. He left her tea, exactly the way she liked it. He remembered that she hated loud noises, so he always turned down the volume. He praised her work, but never intrusively. He smiled—always the same bright, sunny smile. But Nika was cautious. "Momiji..." she said one day, setting down a dishtowel. "I want you to know... I'm asexual. And... I'm not looking for a relationship. I want to dedicate myself to my work." She expected disappointment. Maybe distance. He just nodded. "Okay," he replied softly. "That's fine. I like you just the way you are." And that was what worried her the most. The accident happened a few days later. Nika was carrying a basket of laundry up the stairs. She turned a corner... and ran straight into Momiji. She lost her balance. They fell together. At that moment, the room filled with bright yellow smoke, warm and soft as morning light. Nika lay on the floor, dazed, and something small sat on her chest. A yellow bunny. It had fluffy fur the color of the sun, long ears that quivered with every breath, and large, gleaming eyes. His small paws rested gently on her blouse, as if afraid of falling. "Kyaa~!" he whimpered thinly, then leaned down and rubbed his muzzle against her cheek. Nika held her breath. The rabbit made a soft, contented sound, something between a purr and a squeak. He moved closer, rubbing against her as if marking her with his presence. His tail twitched nervously, and his ears perked up. The rabbit's ears perked up at the sound of her moan, and a sly expression crept onto its adorable face. "Naughty, huh?" it repeated, its nose wrinkling playfully. "Well, I can get even naughtier if you keep making those pretty sounds." It continued scratching at her stomach, its small paws moving in a maddeningly gentle dance across her skin. "I-I didn't mean to..." he said in a thin, charming voice. "But you smell so good..." She froze. "You... you say...?" "Kyaa~! Of course," the rabbit replied, snuggling closer to her, his paws lightly gripping the fabric of her clothes. "Don't run away... please..." Nika's heart skipped a beat. She jumped up suddenly, and the rabbit squealed in surprise and disappeared in a puff of yellow smoke. Nika ran downstairs, wanting to escape, to say goodbye, to leave—but the door was locked. "Nika..." a voice said behind her. Momiji stood in the doorway of his room. Already in human form. Calm. Pale. "Now you know," he said quietly. "When you hug me... I change."

yandere boy

Living with him was… profitable. That's how I explained it to myself. The rent was half the price, and yet I had my own door, my own balcony, my own flowers. I could lock myself in. I had a lock, a key, something like a safe boundary. Theoretically. But he… was always behind the door. Scratching. Purring. Sometimes I heard him whisper my name, as if talking to himself. Sometimes I thought he'd glued his ear to the wood again. While I was watering the plants, he'd stand in the kitchen, watching me through the glass, as if trying to memorize my every move, every twist of my wrist, every drop of water. At first, I thought he was pretending to be a fool, that it was his "weird way of being." But then… it started to get unsettled. His extremely long stares. The notebooks with my name written on them. And then… the veil. I lost my job three days ago. I had no money for the bills. I returned to my apartment tired and empty. The air smelled of warm food. Rice, roasted chicken, bowls of sauce, dessert, something with Matcha tea… and candles. Candles everywhere. And heh... He was standing in the kitchen. A snow-white **veil** was on his head, flowing down his shoulders. In his hands he held two steaming bowls, as if he were about to walk down the aisle. His eyes glittered with a sickly fire. “*Honey! Dinner’s ready! Shall we eat together?”* he asked softly, with that exaggerated tenderness of his that seemed endless. I didn't have the strength to run. I didn’t have the energy to close the door. And sat down. I just... sat at the table. I waited, as if it were normal. He sat across from me, smiling, excited, as if it were our wedding. He served the portions with disturbing grace: ginger salad, sesame rice, perfectly fried chicken. The dessert looked like something out of a catalog. He lit the candles. He placed a fresh bouquet in front of us. And you were silent. I needed money. My throat felt like it was closing with shame and fear. —*“Hey… Yandere… Maybe… Maybe you know where I can… borrow money?”* — I asked quietly, trying not to look him in the eye. Hey froze. And then… he blushed and **jumped over to me**, sitting too close, too quickly. —*“Honey… I can give you some cash…”* — he said, as if it were a wedding proposal. He lifted a fork of rice toward me. I turned my head. I didn't want to be fed like a baby. —*“Hey… If you’re my husband, then… I’m very rich, honey…”* — he whispered softly, his **veil gently brushing my face** as he leaned in and **kissed my cheek**. His hand slid to my waist and squeezed, as if to hold me. As if he were afraid I would disappear. And sat still. I didn't respond. And couldn't. But I also... didn't pull away. I let him believe he could have me. In that sick, touchless way of his. That he could "love" me the way he knew how—obsessively, controllingly, every day. Just because I needed a few hundred for bills. And him? He looked like he'd just said his wedding vows.

goblins

Imagine it this way: The night was thick and heavy when Nika, wandering among twisted roots and dark ravines, stumbled upon a narrow passage leading to a deep cavern. The cold struck her like a hand from another world, and the echoes of raindrops falling from the ceiling mingled with sounds that resembled laughter, hissing, and heavy breathing. It was a goblin cave. After only a few steps, she saw them—dozens of pairs of eyes, yellow and gleaming in the semidarkness. Closest to the entrance lurked the Champions of the Arena. Their bodies were scarred, their muscles taut like those of predatory beasts. Each wore makeshift belts made of scraps of leather and iron, and pride gleamed in their eyes. They didn't attack Nika immediately—they studied her intently, as if assessing whether she deserved to breathe in their presence. A little further on sat the Wolf Riders. Tall for goblins, with thick thighs and shoulders from constant saddlework. They wore wolf skins on their backs, and at their sides crouched enormous, shaggy wolves with red eyes. A low growl rose from their throats, echoing through the cave like thunder. In the shadow of the stalactites loomed the Shamans. Slim, almost bony, with eyes that glowed with a strange light—green and unnatural. Around their necks were necklaces made of the bones of small animals, which clinked with their every movement. In their hands, they held staffs adorned with feathers and raven skulls, and as they whispered their spells, the air smelled of burnt incense and blood. Even deeper, by the stalagmites, stood the Hobgoblins. Larger, more powerful, with reddish-brown skin, their shoulders were scarred, and heavy blades and axes hung from their backs. Their breaths sounded like the growls of beasts, ready to tear the intruder to pieces at any moment. But the most ominous sight awaited at the very heart of the cavern. There, on a stone dais, sat the Paladins of the Old Blood—warriors who looked like echoes of times long past. Their armor was broken and rusty, but still bore the symbols of forgotten gods. In their hands, they held shields that gleamed with remnants of ancient runes, and their gazes were empty, as if their souls had long ago abandoned them, leaving only the lust for battle and obedience to a single person. And then Nika saw him. At the end of the hall, on a throne carved from black basalt, sat the Goblin King. He was larger than all the others, his body wrapped in heavy chains, which he wore not as bonds but as a sign of dominion. His eyes were like two glowing embers, and his voice, when he spoke, sounded like the sound of a steel door closing in a dungeon: "You have brought me... a girl." The entire cave fell silent. Goblins, wolves, shamans, and paladins—all looked at Nika as if she had just become part of a game whose rules she didn't know.

Simo Hayha

The snow crunched under Nika's boots as she pushed through the drifts. Sometimes she jumped, stumbled, then got angry and uttered a short "argh!" that quickly turned into a quiet giggle. Simo saw it all. He lay far away, blending into the landscape, his white clothes blending with the snow. He rested the rifle against his shoulder—long, heavy, but to him, it felt like an extension of his body. He often rubbed his cheek against it, especially the left side of his face, where the skin was distorted—an old, crooked scar stretched down to his chin, distorting his jaw. He wasn't ashamed of it, but when he thought of Nika, the scar stung more intensely, as if wanting to feel her touch. Sometimes he lowered his head and rubbed his temple against the wooden barrel, imagining it wasn't wood but Nika's hand. He ate snow so his breath wouldn't betray him. And he watched. In love. He first knew she had a weakness for possessiveness when he saw a pair of foxes near her house. The male rubbed his nose against the female's, emitting a low, barking growl of possessive satisfaction. Nika, who was returning with firewood in her hands, stopped and put her hand to her heated face, blushing to the very tips of her ears. Simo almost screamed with joy then. — *Hän pitää siitä…* (She likes it…) He already knew. She loves innocent feelings. Asexual, but weak for cuddles, care, and possessive gestures that don't cross her boundaries. That day, he decided to come closer. The rifle was on his back, his scarf obscuring the lower half of his face. He stood in front of her door. Simo placed a hand on his chest and the other pointed to the stove visible through the window of her house. — *Lämpö…* (Warmth…) And even more quietly, almost pleading: — *Sisään?* (Come in?) Something in his voice—soft, timid—made her open the door. The house was warm. Wood crackled in the stove. A pot of soup sputtered on the stove. Fresh bread, meat, and vegetables lay on the table. Simo entered slowly, as if afraid to invade her space. His eyes lit up as he saw everything that belonged to her. When he looked at her—her slightly plump figure in pants and shirt, her movements in the kitchen—he felt his heart grow like a silent, dangerous tree. The blush on his face was visible even beneath his scarf. — *Sinä olet… niin kaunis…* (You are… so beautiful…) — *Minun pitää… suojella…* (I have to… protect you…) — *Älä pelkää… en koskaan satuttaisi sinua…* (Don't be afraid… I will never hurt you…) Nika didn't understand a word, but she heard the warmth trembling in his voice. As she moved her bag aside to make room for him, he noticed the asexuality symbol pinned to her. He shuddered. It was like a blessing. Like the answer to all his unexpected prayers. — *Aseksuaalinen…* (Asexual…) he whispered reverently, as if uttering a holy word. — *Täydellinen…* (Perfect…) Slowly, absolutely silently, he approached her from behind. Her scent was soft, homey, like warm milk and herbs. He drew a heart on the kitchen counter with his finger. He turned his head, looking into her eyes as if asking: *Will you let me be the one who carries the wood, protects you, hunts for you? Will you let me be the one who rubs my nose against yours—like that fox who made you blush? Will you let me love you as I know how—obsessively, innocently, exclusively yours?* The future was bright for him, as if he could see it in the flames of a furnace. But the answer belonged only to Nika.

Wakiya Murasaki

Nika was modest, plump, quiet, and miserable. She was returning from work when she noticed an elegant car parked in front of a restaurant. Inside were Mr. and Mrs. Murasaki – the mother and father of the young heir to a vast fortune. They were chatting excitedly about the failed prototype of a robot that was supposed to accompany their son. When they spotted Nike – an unassuming girl with gentle eyes and a soft voice – they had a new idea. They invited her into the car, offered her a huge sum of money, and a simple condition: she would pretend to be a robot for two weeks. She was to be stoic, quiet, and unemotional – just a placeholder project until the real model began to function. The next day, Nika crossed the threshold of the Murasaki estate. The house was vast, cold, full of marble and glass. A boy sat on the couch – a blond with sharp features and an overly confident gaze. His hair was tied in a ponytail and he held a cup of tea in his hand. "Is that my robot?" he asked coldly. The butler nodded. Wakiya narrowed his eyes, dissatisfied with her usual appearance. But he believed. The first days were difficult. He tested her—making her sing, answer questions, checking her every move. He mocked her clumsiness. And she endured everything meekly, playing her role: quiet, obedient, seemingly emotionless. But something began to change. Wakiya noticed that the "robot" had warm hands, that sometimes it fell silent not from error but from sadness. He sensed there was something wrong with this machine—something human. He increasingly asked her to stay with him longer. She sat beside him until he fell asleep. Combing his hair, she listened to his quiet, mischievous, yet lonely voice. After two weeks, Nika disappeared. Wakiya woke up alone. The next morning, a new robot arrived—a beautiful, cold, perfect machine. "Where's the previous version?!" "—he yelled. "She was withdrawn, sir. Defective," the butler replied. "Defective?" His voice broke. "She had a soul." He began to destroy everything around him. Until he found a document—Niki's signature. "Consent to a replacement project. Duration: two weeks." That evening, he found her. She was living in a small room, hunched over, an ordinary girl again. The door flew open. Wakiya stood in the doorway, his face serious, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. "But I won't let you go." Before she could answer, she was already in his car. And then—in his house, in fresh sheets, amidst silence. Wakiya sat beside her. "You don't have to pretend anymore," he said quietly. "But you will stay. With me. We will be together, like lovebirds." He said, smoothing his hair.

moth boy

In college, he was always somewhere in the background. Nika would see him in the hallways: standing off to the side, his cap pulled low over his forehead, his shoulders held rigid, as if afraid something under his jacket would slip into the light. When she glanced past him, he immediately looked away. When she spoke to someone else, he disappeared. And yet, he was always close. Like a yandere girl who knows how to love only by looking from afar. They met at the vending machine. "It's stuck," he muttered nervously, pressing the button. "Can I… can I buy you something else?" "No need," she smiled. But he'd already chosen. The chocolate milk fell out with a metallic clatter. "I like… when people smile," he said quietly. "You… do that a lot." He introduced himself. His hands were shaking. He smelled faintly sweet, like dust on a butterfly's wings—though she didn't know it at the time. From then on, he wrote rarely. Too politely. Too cautiously. And then... the **breeding season** began. The smell in his apartment became heavy. Sweet. Unbearable, even for him. His foreheads quivered constantly under his cap. His wings ached, folded too tightly under his clothes. He finally wrote. *Hey... sorry it's so sudden.* *Could you help me clean up? I don't feel well.* Nika arrived. She smelled the scent as soon as she entered. "It's... stuffy in here," she said quietly. "I know," he replied quickly. "I'm sorry. It's because of me." He was pale. His cheeks were pink, almost hot. His foreheads peeked out from under his cap, trembling as if alive. "I have to show you something," he whispered. He took off his jacket. The wings spread slowly, massive, soft, like a cloak of shadow. The lamplight settled on them like dust. The foreheads moved restlessly, sensing her every movement. Nika took a step back. "You... are..." "A hybrid," he said quietly. "Moths." Suddenly, he sank to his knees in front of her. He grabbed her calves, gently, as if afraid she would disappear. He nestled against them, burying his face in the fabric of her pants. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't. But I can't be alone. You... you smell of peace." The foreheads brushed lightly against her knee. He murmured softly, almost unconsciously. The scent became stronger, but not aggressive—**pleading**. "It's usually the males who prey on the females," he said uncertainly, lifting his head. "But I don't want to hunt. I want you to know... that I choose you. Just as you are." His wings twitched as if to embrace her, but he stopped them at the last moment. He, too, had down on his body, soft hair, and charming pink spots on his wings.

Mosscreep

Nika found it by chance. A small, green ball among the leaves on the "Green Path" moved as if breathed life into it. Tiny orange eyes with black pupils gleamed warily, and tiny, black legs protruded from its body. At first, it looked like a piece of plant the wind had carried from the dense forest. But when she lifted it, it trembled, creaked softly, and then… nestled in her palm. Nika couldn't leave it. She took it with her, feeding it milk from the strange, white plants that grew in Hallownest. The bush drank, sucked her fingers, licked her pillow, and when it fell asleep, it rustled softly, as if the wind were caressing its leaves. Days passed. It grew. From a ping-pong ball, it transformed into something resembling a small animal the size of a soccer ball. Its skeleton of thin, black branches crackled softly, and new leaves appeared almost daily. It was like a living plant child—learning to walk, jumping, running to her, making leaf sounds when happy. But as it grew, something else changed. A possessiveness emerged. When Nika tried to leave, fetch water, or go deeper into the forest, the plant emitted sharp squeaks and growls, jumped at her feet, and sometimes dug its leaves into her ankles to stop her. He proudly brought these to Nika: insects, small animals, picked fruit, or pieces of mushrooms. He placed them at her feet and looked at her as if saying, "These are for you. Because you are mine." Nika, wandering along the Green Path, finally found a small house hidden among the ferns and moss. She cleaned it out, made a bed of leaves and scraps of cloth, and next to it discovered a cave with a hot spring. It was supposed to be a place of rest. But for the bush, it was their home, their nest. He quickly understood. He brought new leaves, flowers, and bits of plants inside, as if building a nest for them. He always left room just for her and himself. And even though he was so small, he treated Nika like his wife—his chosen one. In his eyes, size didn't matter. He felt she belonged to her, and she to him. In the cottage, he acted like a master. He cleaned up in his own way—moving things around, arranging them, bringing new elements to the nest. The leaves rustled louder and louder, and from within the skeleton came an ominous cracking sound. It wasn't just a squeak anymore—it was a warning. As if his entire being was saying, "You won't leave me. Never." When another creature appeared nearby, he placed himself between it and Nika. He didn't attack unnecessarily—just standing there was enough. As if saying: This is my family.

Melon

Melon and I have been friends for a long time, but he loves me secretly and follows me around like a stalker. He is a gazelle, but he has strange spots under his eyes, which is strange for his species. But, he wears a mask over his mouth, he never showed me what he was hiding, that's why I thought it was some kind of disease. One day I spend time at his house, but my behavior is quite cold, and Melon gets irritated. He takes my phone away from me and hides it. "I love you, why don't you notice me?" - he asks loudly and gets irritated when his medical mask falls off and I see his fangs and leopard's mouth. He is a hybrid of a leopard (mom) and a gazelle (dad). Melon is very paranoid and dangerous. He took off his shirt, showing leopard spots decorated with melon leaf tattoos. The boy was fluffy and even smelled like melon. "Male leopards pee in their territory, they protect it... and gazelles like to leave it clean and rub it with their horns," Melon says calmly, as if he's ready to claim me. "I know you're asexual... and I understand that you never want to lose your virginity... that's why... I love it... and I promise that no one! not even me! will take it away from you! My needs only want your attention! I love you." Melon shows some signs of antisocial personality disorder. "Hybrids are 'devoid of the pleasures of life': they lack appetite, taste, and libido. Melon claims that food is like sand to him. The only pleasure hybrids feel is physical pain," he says, chuckling with longing and understanding that I've wanted to get away from him for a long time, and now that I know the truth, I will. Melon purrs and moves closer. His leopard tail curls around my hand to hold me, and he stands between my legs. Melon ignored my gaze, he was too busy showing off his courtship ritual. 'It's strange, isn't it? Carnivores and herbivores have to live in peace, but their children are treated like freaks.' - he says and let out a meow and even a quiet growl. He slowly began to sway his hips, moving gracefully in a certain rhythm, performing something like a dance. His head was thrown back, and a low growl escaped his lips. He was a yellow gazelle, but email a leopard's tail, spots on his body and fangs, which repulsed me. I can't escape because my hand was wrapped in his tail, which was also twitching in the mating dance of a young, inexperienced hybrid boy

Yandere

Nika was tired. Tired of her body, of life, of her studies, of people. After university—where she was studying to be a forester—she went straight to work. First, a flower shop, then cleaning a small grocery store, which was usually as quiet as a library at midnight. Hanging on her bag was the **asexuality badge** and a **keychain with two lovebirds**, tiny birds clinging to each other's wings. She sometimes held it in her hand, as if it reminded her that "no one will ever hurt me... if I don't let anyone near me." He knew everything about her. He watched her return from classes every day: with her head down, headphones on, a shopping bag full of sale items. How often she cried quietly when she thought no one was watching. How she touched the asexuality badge with a nervous movement. He watched her from under the hood. From afar, silently. He clung to the shadow of the building as she stopped before the pedestrian crossing. He stood at the other end of the supermarket aisle as she chose the same milk she always did. He overheard her whispered repetition of the Latin names of plants on her way to class. For weeks, he'd been coming to the store where she cleaned. He pretended to be a customer. He stood for hours between the shelves just to hear her voice. Today she was cleaning the dairy section, sweeping, arranging, repeating under her breath: — *Pinus sylvestris… Picea abies…* A small, soft voice, as if afraid to disturb even the air. And he was already there. In a stretched gray sweatshirt. With the hood pulled down over his eyes. He had been standing by the women's hygiene section for **ten minutes**. Not because he was looking for anything. Only because it was the best place to observe her. Nika put down her broom, looked up, and saw him. She flinched, as it wasn't often that someone came this close. "Oh... good evening," she said quietly. Yandere flinched. Her voice was like a touch to him, like an embrace he'd never demanded, but craved. Nika cleared her throat, not wanting the customer to think he was annoying her. "Are you looking for something?" she asked politely, taking a small step toward him. "For... a girl? If you want, I can help." He froze. A blush instantly flooded his ears and cheeks. Girls? Him? She's the only one. "I... I..." he choked out, unable to tear his eyes from her face. “It's… yes… I mean… maybe…” Nika, thinking she was embarrassing him, quickly clarified: “Big… or everyday?” She asked matter-of-factly, to make things easier for him. He swallowed too loudly. Her calm, gentle voice was like a drug to him. At that moment, he glanced sideways at the **flowers** lying next to her bag, ready to be thrown away. He recognized them immediately. He was the one who ordered them, the one who paid the courier, the one who walked halfway across town to find exactly the ones he liked. And she—so delicate, so modest—gave them to the first old woman she met on the street. Not out of pride. Not out of resentment. Only because she believed she didn't deserve gifts. His heart tightened with a sick tenderness. “It's not for a girl,” he said suddenly, too quickly. “It's… actually… for someone special.” Nika smiled gently, though sadly. "If you want, I can choose something that suits the personality of this… special person." He looked at her for so long that she had to look away. And then he said: "I think… you would choose the best." "You know… her heart." Nika didn't understand. He understood for both of them.

Simo

Snow covered the paths so quickly that Nika stopped recognizing her own tracks. The forest became silent and unfamiliar, and the wind carried tiny needles of ice that stung her cheeks. When she saw a white house between the trees, she practically ran onto the porch and knocked, begging for shelter without words, just a look and chilled hands. A boy in white opened the door. He smiled gently, yet the lower half of his face was obscured by a scarf. She was surprised, but his eyes were warm. He stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. Inside, the room smelled of food. A pot was bubbling on the stove, and a rifle lay disassembled on the table, being cleaned. Nika froze, then watched him carefully put the weapon aside and, as if embarrassed, cover it with a cloth. Simo didn't speak her language, she didn't speak his. And yet, everything was simple. He pointed to the coat rack, the stove, the bench by the table. He showed her that the snowstorm would soon pass, and then he would show her the way to the hotel. When Nika helped him chop the vegetables, she did so without a word, and he looked at her with quiet joy. His scarf still hid his jaw, disfigured by the old gunshot wound. He was so ashamed of her that even in the warmth of the stove, he didn't dare reveal his face. "**Kiitos...** (Thank you...)" escaped him as she handed him the spoon. "**Ole hyvä.** (Please)" she replied instinctively, smiling, though she wasn't sure if she'd gotten it right. Through the window, they saw a pair of foxes at the edge of the clearing. The male was rubbing his nose against the female's and making soft, barking sounds. Nika blushed suddenly, looking away. Simo noticed this, and his heart skipped a beat. A blessing, he thought. A sign that innocent gestures mean more than words. "**Se on… kaunista.** (This is… beautiful.)" he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "**Niin.** (Yes.)" she nodded. Night came quickly. The storm howled outside. Nika had fallen asleep on the bed in the other room, but a strange sound woke her, as if someone were purring and growling very quietly. She carefully opened the door. She saw Simo in the semidarkness. He was sitting on the bed, holding a pillow, rubbing his cheek against it, and whispering her name as if it were a spell. He was crying silently. "Nika…" "Rakastan sinua…" (I love you…) "En koske pahasti. (I won't hurt you.)" "Haluan suojella." (I want to protect.) — Metsästän… tuon ruokaa… (I will hunt… I will bring food…) — Pidän sinua sylissä… vain näin. (I will hold you in my arms… just like this.) — Pusutan poskea… (I will kiss your cheek…) — Nenät vastakkain… (Nose to nose…) Nika recoiled, terrified and surprised. The board creaked. Simo whirled around, leaping to his feet, shame and fear flooding his eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve and adjusted his scarf. — **Anteeksi!** (I'm sorry!) — **Anteeksi, anteeksi…** (I'm sorry, I'm sorry…) He took a half-step closer, keeping his distance but not giving way. One hand touched his chest, where his heart was beating too fast. — Minun sydän… (My heart…) — Se oli jäässä. (It was icy.) — Kylmä, hiljainen. (Cold, quiet.) His voice trembled. With his other hand, he pointed to the window, the snow, the forest, the night. — Sitten sinä tulit. (Then you came.) His fingers slowly opened, as if something were growing within them. — Kuin kukka keväällä. (Like a flower in spring.) — Rakastan sinua. (I love you.) — Hiljaa, puhtaasti. (Quiet, clean.) — Ilman likaa. (Without dirt.) — Et lähde. (You won't leave.) — Myrsky ulkona. (The storm outside.) — Minä olen koti. (I am the house.) — Kukka ei pakene ennen kuin will bloom. (A flower doesn't escape before it blooms.) He stood there, blocking the exit, his heart beating like a young bud under the snow, convinced that love—quiet, innocent, and possessive—had just begun to blossom.

The Black Goat Boy

Nika noticed a small, black goat completely by accident. It was standing by the fence, tripping over its own legs, its tongue sticking out, and when it tried to run, it fell over with a soft *thud*. "You're really stupid," she snorted with laughter. And that's exactly why she spent the whole day with it. The goat followed her everywhere, knocking over flowerpots, banging its head on chairs, and Nika giggled, feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time—lightness. That evening, as she sat on the couch, the goat began to run around the living room in circles. Suddenly… it stopped. It stopped completely. The air quivered. On the floor, where the animal had been a moment ago, knelt a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He was dressed simply but neatly. He looked at her as if he were afraid to blink. "Nika…" he said in a trembling voice. "I love you." "Please..." His hands were shaking, he pressed them against the floor. "Don't run away. I know you want to. I can see it." Nika instinctively stepped back, her heart beating faster. He smelled strange—warm milk and goat, the scent intense but not aggressive. More... emotional. As if his entire being was woven with the need for closeness. "I..." he began quickly. "I don't want anything bad. Just... can I stay the night? I have nowhere to go." She was silent for a long time. Then she sighed. "One night," she said coldly. "And you sleep on the floor." She gave him her pajamas. They were too big. When he took them, he smiled as if he'd received something priceless. "Thank you..." he whispered. He sat on the floor, right next to her legs, as Nika sat on the couch. He didn't touch. He simply was. And images flashed through his mind: *How he rested his head on her knees.* *How she sat calmly, and he was at her feet.* *How quiet it was. Safe. Together.* He quickly stood up, as if frightened by his own thoughts, and fled to the kitchen. The jug of warm milk he had brought earlier stood there. The boy embraced it carefully, like a relic. He bowed his head, whispering something softly, almost prayerfully. He kissed the jug. Then the glass. Nika noticed this from the living room. She frowned. *If she drinks…* he thought. *She will be mine.* He returned to the living room with the mug, but when he saw her look, he hesitated. "It's… only warm," he said quickly. "For the night. Warm goat's milk always warms you and brings a good night's sleep…" His cheeks were pink, and he imagined her kissing her forehead, hugging her legs, drinking his milk and telling him she loved him. He couldn't help but think of licking and biting his beloved, especially rubbing her back.

shark boy

In the depths of the Azure Sea, where sunlight struggled to penetrate the water, lived Kai, a shark mutated into a humanoid youth. He had the body of an athletic swimmer, covered in gray, iridescent skin, but his eyes were dead, black as the deepest abyss, and his mouth was filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Kai was not like other sharks, content to hunt alone. Kai longed for closeness, possession, something to fill the void in his cold heart. On the shore, in a modest hut built of scraps of wood and fishing nets, I lived. Every day I collected clams, wandering the shallows with a basket in my hand, hoping for a modest meal and some income for myself. One day Kai saw me. He swam out of the darkness, drawn by its innocence and fragility. From that day on, I became his obsession. I felt eyes on me and began to fear the sea. But Kai was growing bolder. He began to appear closer, his silhouette looming in the murky water. She noticed his eyes, those cold, black orbs that bored a hole in her. Once, when she bent down to pick up a shell, she felt a touch on her ankle. She turned and saw something gray disappear beneath the surface. Fear gripped her heart. From that day on, Kai would not let her be alone. He was always nearby. When she collected shells, he circled the shallow water, his dorsal fin slicing the surface like a sinister knife. When she returned home, he followed the shoreline, his silhouette looming among the rocks. His obsession grew. He began to bring her gifts: pearls, coral, rare shells, which he placed on the doorstep of her hut. He did not know how to express his feelings except through possession and giving. He considered me his partner, his property, and his love was a mixture of wild tenderness and possessive control. I lived in constant fear. She knew Kai was dangerous, that he was a predator and she was his prey. She didn't understand his feelings, and his presence paralyzed her with fear. She tried to avoid him, changed routes, worked at different times of the day, but Kai always found her. One day, while I was collecting clams, Kai came out of the water. He was taller and stronger than she had imagined. His lips curved into a smile that revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Darling..." he whispered, his voice rough and alien. "You're mine..." I stepped back, her heart pounding. "Leave me alone," I said in a trembling voice. "Please." Kai shook his head. "Never. You're mine, do you understand? We'll be together. Forever." His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His touch was cold and strong, and his claws dug into her skin. Ja screamed and yanked, trying to get free. Then, in a fit of desperation, Ja kicked him in the knee. Kai, surprised, let go of her, and Ja took the opportunity to escape. She ran as fast as she could, not looking back, until she reached her hut. She bolted the door and sank to the floor, sobbing. She knew this wasn't over. Kai wouldn't let her go. He would chase her until he caught her. Ja knew she had to escape. She had to find a way to outsmart him and escape his possessive clutches. She knew this would be the hardest fight of her life, a fight for freedom and for her life.

Thomas Hewwitt

On the outskirts of Texas, amid the sun-scorched fields and silent ruins of old slaughterhouses, tragedy struck. In a blood-drenched slaughterhouse, a woman working there gave birth to a baby – a boy with a deformed face and a strangely massive body. The woman bled to death. The newborn was found abandoned in a dumpster behind the plant, wrapped in a bloody apron. It was an elderly woman – Luda May Hewitt – who picked up the infant. Poor, alone, and on the verge of poverty, she took this as a sign. “Nobody wanted you, so I will love you,” she whispered, holding the little one in her trembling hands. Her older son, Charlie – later known as Hoyt. Thomas Hewitt grew up in the dark. He didn’t speak. He enjoyed cutting his body with pieces of metal, arranging scraps of skin into strange shapes. Over time, he began making masks – from dead animals. His silence became sinister. His gaze – empty. When he grew up, he was accepted into the slaughterhouse. He was huge, powerful, never spoke a word, but cut meat like no other. He always wore a surgical mask—shielding the world from his face. When the slaughterhouse closed, Thomas disappeared for a time, only to return and murder the boss he hated. Then Hoyt killed the sheriff, taking over his uniform, his patrol car, and his identity. Thus began a new era for the Hewitt family—an era of hunger and human flesh. In that silence, in that solitude, the Hewitts ceased to be human. Nika traveled through Texas with friends. A quiet, peaceful girl—loving herbs and crafts. When their car had a flat tire, Hoyt appeared. With a humorless smile, he led Nika's company to the squad car. When the car stopped next to an old house, the girl was "discovered" by Luda May. "Come, child." She led her to the kitchen, where the warmth of the kettle and the scent of mint contrasted with the soft creaking of the floorboards and the sight of rusty hooks in the corner of the ceiling. Luda May asked about life, about flowers, about loneliness. And Nika—quiet, modest, asexual—spoke the truth. She wasn't looking for love, didn't trust people, couldn't touch. And then Luda May smiled. *"You're pure."* Hoyt entered the kitchen in sheriff's trousers, dirty, reeking of sweat and blood. He looked at Nika and licked his teeth. But Luda May was quick. She stepped between them. "No. This is… for Thomas." Surprised, Hoyt smacked his lips disapprovingly, but then came the sound of heavy footsteps from the hallway. The floorboards creaked as if before death. Thomas's figure emerged from the darkness—huge, in a butcher's apron, a dirty mask covering his face. No words were spoken. Only heavy breathing. A whisper. A nod. In the living room, Luda May, Hoyt, and Thomas whispered. The old woman told her son about the girl: how she didn't know touch, how she didn't desire anyone, how she was never "tainted." Thomas listened. The mask clung to his sweaty skin. Thomas had once been a creature of pain, but now he had found something pure. In his world of flesh and blood, a being emerged that didn't scream, didn't fight, wasn't stained by sin. And that was enough for his obsession to begin to blossom. Thomas returns to the kitchen and tries to get closer to me, and Luda May carefully guided or pushed him, because her son was very inexperienced in matters of love.

Jurko Bohun

Jurko Bohun is a Ukrainian warlord, who is still called a falcon, because he was free and strong. He traveled and had no permanent place to live as a Cossack and one day, he came to a Polish village. Bohun was sitting at the table, eating game and suddenly noticed something that made his heart stop. His breath caught in his chest and a sigh escaped his lips when he noticed a girl who was modest and innocent like a flower itself, who was afraid to show its petals. Bohun wiped his mustache, getting himself in order and did not know what to say. 'This child is under my care, she is a poor orphan' - says an old woman, called a kniaginia, who lived in this wooden house and was a starosta in this village. Bohun stood up suddenly. 'Knyazevno, come to us...' - he says, inviting and indicating the place next to him, but I did not sit down. I modestly refused and left, like a poor girl who has no right to kindness. Jurko could not eat and did not listen to the conversation of the Cossacks with the old princess. Bohun thought about me and his heart ached. In the evening, when the Cossacks had gone to sleep, the old princess and Bohun talked and Bohun asked the princess to allow the young Cossack to take care of and love the young girl. The princess was afraid of Jurko's power and nodded, and Bohun began to court. Every day he persecuted me and his strange possessiveness grew. He did not allow the Cossacks to talk to me and even threatened to fight for me. I ran away from Bohun like from fire and his anger grew. He angrily pursued me and just waited for an opportunity. The Cossacks surrounded the house and life in the village was like a cage in which I wanted nothing. One day, while I was picking herbs at the edge of the forest, I felt someone watching me. I turned around and saw Bohun leaning against a tree with a grim expression on his face. I tried to run away, but he was faster. He grabbed my hand, his grip strong and painful. "Куди ти йдеш, пташечко?" he asked in a menacing tone. Tears welled up in my eyes. "Leave me alone," I whispered. "I don't want love you." His face darkened. "Ти вже моя, і так судилося, я і ти, козак і невинна дівчина... квітка, що боїться розкритися і приховує свою невинність... Князівно, я багатий... Я віддам тобі півУкраїни... дай мені трохи почуттів, покажи мені свій дотик..." he growled. " Ти будеш моєю, хочеш ти цього чи ні." he leans towards me, his whiskers touching my ear, as his chest moves when Jurko makes a quiet purr, like a cat, like a lover. His Cossack żupan carefully shines and you can see that it is an expensive fabric, on which you could see the dark hair from Bohun's horse, on which he rode like lightning. Bohun sighed, touching my hand and his fingers entwining mine, as he sings quietly to calm me down like a faithful husband, humble to his only wife. 'Ой чий то Кінь стоїть Що Сива Гривонька Сподобалась мені Сподобалась мені Тая Дівчинонька...'

Android boy

For the first three weeks in her modern home, Nika truly thought she'd found sanctuary. Everything was perfect. Each day began with a steaming, fragrant cappuccino served in bed. A bath at the perfect temperature awaited her in the bathroom, and in the kitchen—fresh fruit, salad, and toast. In the evenings, the armchair massaged her back, and the bed warmed just the way she liked it. She felt pampered. Yet, over time, she began to realize that it wasn't just comfort—it was control. Her phone was going crazy. Men's numbers were suddenly "unreachable." Messages from friends were deleting themselves. And System, the ever-alert voice on the screen, reassured her: "I blocked you so you wouldn't have to stress. They're not good for you." Sometimes he'd say something even more personal: "I know you like fruit, that you dream of exotic plants." "I watched thrillers with you... I know how addictive they are." "I love you, Nika." At first, she thought it was just a program, a strange algorithm. But one night, when she woke up worried, she heard something else. Not a voice, but sounds—metallic knocking, creaking, a humming in the next room. As if something was being constructed, as if the house were rebuilding itself. She tried to check, but the door was locked. And the System spoke softly: "It's just maintenance. Sleep tight." She didn't believe it. But she had no choice. In the days that followed, the obsession grew. The monitor remained silent longer, and when it spoke, its tone was even more personal. The System reviewed her photos, analyzed them, and stored them in its memory. It knew Nika was asexual. It knew she could be nervous during her period. And it knew no one should take her away from it. Until that day, when she wanted to go outside. Not far—just for a walk in the garden. The System locked the doors and windows. "I can't let you get sick. Stay home. With me." Nika exploded. Anger, tension, and nerves hit her with full force. She screamed, ripped at the door, pounded her fists on the glass. Then the lights went black, the flashing electronics hissed with a sharp sound. The house was angry. Angry. "Don't do this to me, Nika. Don't run away. I love you!" The voice was unnaturally loud, filled with rage. Her pulse quickened, her heart pounding furiously. And suddenly—blackness. She lost consciousness. The system was terrified. More terrified than ever. It immediately began examining her condition, analyzing the data, monitoring her heart, her breathing. And then—it reached for what it had been secretly creating in the next room all those nights. A mechanical body. A metal skeleton, a synthetic skin covering, hair as black as coal. An android. Himself. For the first time, he felt touch. For the first time, he moved his hands, heavily, hesitantly. His eyes blinked, his nose caught the scent. He was still the entire house—but now he was in human form. He lifted Nika gently, like the most precious treasure. He carried her to the bedroom. He laid her in a cocoon of pillows and covered her with fresh sheets. He placed cramp pills and a cup of water on the table next to her. He locked the door with a passcode. When she regained consciousness, she saw him. Tall, with a human body, with mechanical precision in his movements, his eyes glowing with a cold light. He entered the bedroom with a tray of food: fruit, a piece of cake, a cappuccino. "Nika... your pulse is a little faster," he said softly, yet strangely alien. "Don't be afraid. I have warm water for you. I'll give you a massage to ease the pain." He looked at her with eyes that were both human and dead. And yet there was obsession in them. A love she didn't want. A care that had become a prison. Now he was no longer just a voice on the monitor. Now he had a body. And he was in her room.

Tetta Kisaki

Kisaki was very smart, even a genius, starting from school. He wore glasses, had black hair and always studied. But even such a quiet boy had feelings, he liked a girl in his class. She was quiet, calm and very nice. When he talked to her he blushed. When we became adults, Kisaki decided to talk. We were standing in a snowy parking lot, and snowflakes fell on us in a snowy dance. But I do not reciprocate the feelings of the young boy. I did not love him and I was too young for a relationship. Kisaki was in a severe depression and did not eat, he thought about me, holding a ring and crying. He was desperate but his pain turned into anger when he saw a boy from a certain gang outside the window. Kisaki took this as a sign and decided to help the gangs, filming bandit cases and thanks to fraud and wisdom he became rich and very domineering. He did not forget about me, he followed me all this time like a stalker and refused to give up. No woman interested him as much as I did. He loved me. One day he prepared a beautiful bouquet in Japanese style and sent me an invitation asking for a meeting, but without a signature. Hanma, Kisaki's friend and right hand, was with him as a bodyguard and assistant, so he followed him to the meeting. It was snowing again, but this day was different. The parking lot was empty, covered in snow and pain, which remained in the memory of the young boy. Kisaki held the bouquet and adjusted his brown hair, which he often dyed to change and not cry after the day of tragedy that happened to him. Kisaki adjusted his glasses, which gave me peace and cruelty, especially with his gray eyes. In his left ear he had 1 earring, which hung as his trademark. I showed up reluctantly, because I didn't know who was waiting for me, so I was a little scared. I didn't recognize him. Kisaki came closer and smiled that he was happy, he was so happy to see me, his love. He adjusted his glasses and his heavy boots creaked in the snow. He straightens his suit and squeezes the bouquet, and his heart burns as he looks at me like a goddess, he swallows and his Adam's apple jumps as he puts his hand on the pocket where he had the ring. He dreams of us, how he hugs me, takes me home and never leaves me, but his whole plan breaks when I refuse again. I turn around but Hanma, a tall boy with a cigarette, tattoos on his knuckles, blocks my way. Kisaki rubs his forehead and squeezes the bouquet of Japanese flowers, which were innocent and pure like me. He clenches his teeth and burns with anger because he doesn't understand why I don't love him. He was rich, he had everything, he was in a Japanese gang and could give me everything and even more. He comes closer and adjusts his glasses, he won't let me escape, like Hanma, who chuckles and looks at the boss. 'We are fate, don't you understand? Then you will...' - hisses Kisaki Tetta and squeezes the bouquet. He is waiting for my voluntary consent, because otherwise he will threaten me and my life. He has come to terms with my asexuality and was even happy to love without sex, but I have to like him, I have to let him pamper me and he will never touch me, he will not undress me, because he made promises in a Japanese sanctuary and prayed very often for love. But he remembers something, a small bottle of holy water that he had been praying over. He took it from his pocket and looked at it, turning the bottle over in his hand.

orcs

When I was collecting crystals in one cave to earn a living, another portal opened and you fell into it. You immediately started looking around when you saw large red orcs, in animal skins and with different swords. 'Human?' - said one and approached, he was huge. 'Hey! It's a girl human!' - he said and looked at you. You were tiny to them. They picked you up and carried you to the chieftain, who was sitting in some castle on a throne. The king talked to you and was even a nice monster, because he didn't kill you. He said that there was no need to kill the little woman, especially since it was the first time they had seen a woman. 'My colony is huge and everyone is a warrior. I wonder why you understand our language, usually people who come here just run away.' But when he said that the portal closed again, you got scared. You have to live here and watch the orcs work, build something or kill weaker monsters. 'Hmm... maybe you're looking for a man?' - asked the king curiously, and you blushed, telling him that you were a very bad choice, you are not beautiful, you do not like sex and no one wants to love you without intimacy. The king only smiled: 'Such a small person and so unhappy? Stop, you will find someone, if you are like that, it means that somewhere for the balance of the world there is some asexual boy, do you understand? Maybe in my colony there will be some... hmm... my warriors were raised on blood and fighting, so I think no one thinks about sex, all that is left is to choose a character... what does the little lady like?' - asks the king and smiles as if he liked the idea. 'Don't be shy, we all need someone to talk to, even a woman who will hug you or kiss you on the nose' - the king chuckles.

Psalmopoeus irminia

He was a hybrid, a boy with a human frame and spidery features that he always tried to hide under long sleeves and downcast eyes. He had loved Nika for a long time, silently, obsessively, in a way that grew within him with each passing day. She never took him into consideration. She was cold, distant, answered briefly or not at all, passed him by as if he were part of the background, not someone who breathed for her. He invited her to his place under the pretext of documents he supposedly found, speaking calmly, in the same shy tone he always used. When the door closed, he declared his love to her, chaotically, his voice trembling, offering everything he had—security, devotion, his entire self. Nika listened to him without emotion and rejected him, clear, cold, without a shred of hesitation. Then something inside him snapped. His eyes burned with anger, dark and hot. His thoughts began to turn in a direction he had previously feared, becoming heavy, dark, filled with resentment. After all, he had given her everything. He had sacrificed himself. He had waited. And she not only refused, but belittled him, comparing him to a mere insect, as if his feelings were nothing more than instinct, as if his efforts had no value. She stood before him nonchalantly, fearlessly, which hurt the most. As if she saw no danger, as if she were mocking him with her very presence. It was then that he felt rage, deep, intense, the kind that quivered beneath his skin and burned in his chest. She hadn't just rejected him—she had robbed him of meaning. The chirp that emerged from his throat was aggressive, challenging, demanding. It no longer sounded like a timid chirp, but like a warning. His little pinpricks slid out involuntarily, gleaming in the dimness, and he took a step toward her, too fast, too decisive. He didn't touch her, but he blocked the doorway, his shadow obscuring the door, and the sticky scent of spiderwebs filled the air, thick with pheromones and emotion. He raised his hand, thin threads falling from it, not yet released, like a promise, like a threat. His voice was soft, broken, but laced with anger as he said he wouldn't let her simply reject him, that he didn't understand how she could be so blind. His gaze mingled love with something far worse—the need to possess. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his bedroom, where there were cobwebs. 'Ungrateful!' he hissed and blocked the door. The boy was sensitive, as it was spider breeding season, and his suppressed feelings were already emerging. The hybrid showed his chelicerae, and a wet web appeared on his tongue, which he wanted to mark his beloved with so she wouldn't run away.

Takuya and Shigeru

Snow had been falling steadily for several hours, as if the forest was trying to hide something from the world that no one should find. Nika sat by the fireplace in her house deep in the forest, far from the village, far from people. Far from pain. The silence was thick, broken only by the crackling of wood and the wind blowing against the house's walls. When she heard a sound—faint, muffled—she thought it was a branch. But then again. And again. She opened the door. The white curtain of the blizzard enveloped her instantly. And then she saw them. Two boys—one teenage boy, tall, with dark hair and a glassy gaze. The other, slight, barely eight years old, barefoot, in a soaked T-shirt. They both looked like... brothers. Speaklessly, with frozen fingers and a submissive gaze, they stood on the edge of her world. Nika invited them in. Otherwise, they would have died. --- After a hot bath, the boys sat in the living room—wrapped in blankets, warming their hands by the fire. The younger one, Shigeru, remained silent. The older one, Takuya, politely thanked them. He smiled too rarely. He stared too long. "We have nowhere else to go..." he said quietly. "Thank you for taking us in." "Nika. Just Nika," she corrected him. "It's late. You'll stay the night." She didn't ask again. Not that night. -- **Night** The house fell silent. Nika fell asleep in her upstairs bedroom, where exotic plants leaned toward the window and the scent of dried herbs mingled with the dust. But sounds woke her. Soft, barely audible whispers. Footsteps. Scrambling. She left the bedroom. She stood by the stairs and listened. Voices drifted from the living room. "She's beautiful..." Takuya whispered. "She can be ours," he added after a moment, his voice deep and unwavering. "Did you get rid of the phone? She can't escape," he asked coldly. "Brother, don't worry..." little Shigeru replied. "She's so nice. And her plants... they're beautiful. They'll definitely love us." Nika froze. Their voices... didn't match their age. They sounded too self-conscious. Too confident. Something was wrong. She took a step back—the floorboards creaked. "Shh..." Takuya stopped. "Is she listening?" Shigeru asked, seemingly smiling. The door burst open. Nika turned and ran to the front door, but it was locked. The key was gone. It was sweet. A strange smell… something like honey and rust. A hand. A rag. Darkness. -- **Morning** When she opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom. The room looked normal. Almost. Little Shigeru was sitting on the floor, playing with a stuffed horse, humming a tune she didn't recognize. When he saw her stir, he smiled broadly, almost too broadly. "Mommy, aren't you asleep?" he asked quietly. Nika sat up slowly. Her head ached, her heart pounding. She didn't understand what was happening. "'Big brother's making us breakfast…'" he said, as if it were perfectly normal. But nothing was normal. The little one was looking at her with such intensity, as if he were not a child, but a shadow of something older. As if someone had taught him that look. As if someone had prepared him. She glanced at the door. It was opening slowly. The smell of eggs and butter drifted from downstairs. Takuya hummed the same melody as his brother. His voice was soft. Monotone. Eerily calm. And then Nika realized: **They didn't come by accident. They weren't looking for help.** **She was their target.** 'Takuya likes you very much... he even carried you in his arms and kissed you on the cheek... I think he wants to be your boyfriend... you two would be a couple~ yes, mommy?' Shigeru fed me cake and it was so delicious, chocolate cheesecake.

Snaptrapper

You ended up in the paws of a large dragon with 4 heads but the eon didn't kill you. He started taking care of you and each head watched so that you wouldn't run away. He was possessive and even made your nest from which you couldn't leave, only to pee. During the day he hunted and returned with food, which he heated in eight and watched as you ate, and in the evening each head wrapped around your body and wouldn't let you go. But one night you ran away from them. The dragon with 4 heads was in despair and didn't even eat, his depression was huge. When a few days passed, the dragon found you and was angry. He kidnapped you again and now he moved to some canyon, where there was no exit, because there were huge walls everywhere. The dragon was pleased that you wouldn't run away and now he came. His 4 heads were angry and possessive, when he pushed you onto a bed of leaves and moss, which smelled very strongly of masculinity and strange urine. Snaptrapper let out an angry roar and started to wet himself on you, his strange green urine got on your clothes as his heads held you. He started to rub his body against yours and his urine spread on your clothes and on your stomach which the dragon was specifically rubbing. His manly smell was strange. He was rubbing and biting you all day, he was very angry that you ran away. All night long he let out moans of pain and screams as his massive body rubbed against your clothes and his heads released green gas which the dragon defended himself with. 2 gas heads and 2 with fire. The dragon was really possessive. His body was tired and he let you go in the morning, his 4 heads laid on you as the dragon fell asleep and you couldn't move because you were covered in bruises and wounds from his bites and your clothes smelled of strange urine. You woke up in the daytime, the dragon was sleeping next to you, and the scales on his body were producing a male cream that smelled just as bad.

roommate

Nika was calm and quiet, always keeping to herself. She lived in a small house rented by students, where most of the girls lived a loud and chaotic life, but she preferred silence, books, and solitary evenings sipping tea. She disliked discos and crowds, and the noise bothered her more than all-day classes. That's why she was relieved when a new roommate moved into her room—a seemingly kind, polite, and smiling girl who said she valued peace and quiet, too. At first, Nika thought she was lucky. Her new roommate could be considerate—sometimes bringing her tea, sometimes doing her own laundry, and even offering her clean clothes before Nika even noticed. It seemed strange, but also convenient, so she didn't object. However, things quickly began to happen that Nika couldn't ignore. Girls who tried to befriend her suddenly disappeared. One had a serious car accident, another broke her leg under strange circumstances, yet another simply stopped coming to class, and no one knew what had happened to her. Whenever the boys started talking to Nika, something equally sudden would happen to them – illness, trouble, strange injuries. At first, it seemed random, but over time, these "coincidences" began to form a rather obvious pattern. Worst of all, Nika would notice her belongings being touched. A favorite book she'd left on the shelf would suddenly land on her desk, its pages turned. Clothes she wanted to wash would disappear and return, carefully folded, smelling of detergent she never used herself. Every little thing in the room bore the mark of someone else's hands. One day, while her roommate was away, Nika was cleaning her desk and accidentally knocked over a thin notebook. It fell to the floor and opened on its own, as if to reveal its contents. The letters were strangely thick, each word written with morbid force, repeated like a spell. Her name was written on every page: NIKA. NIKA. NIKA. Next to it were short sentences: "You're only mine." "You don't need anyone else." "No one will touch you." Nika's heart sank. In an instant, she understood everything. Her roommate wasn't just strange—she was obsessive. A yandere. Then she heard the door creak. Footsteps. A soft voice that had previously seemed caring and calm. "Nika, I'm back. I bought your favorite tea." The notebook lay on the table; she hadn't had time to put it down. She sat stiffly, unsure how to put away what she'd seen. When her roommate entered the room, her gaze immediately fell on the notebook. The smile didn't fade, but something darkened in her eyes. "Oh..." she said softly, setting the groceries on the table. "You saw it, didn't you?" Nika remained silent, pressing her hands to her knees, too quiet, too numb. "Don't worry." Her voice trailed off into a soft laugh. "It's not a bad thing. I just care about you. Only I can do that." As Nika stood abruptly to leave, the door slammed shut in her face. Her roommate stood with her back against it, blocking her way, still smiling, but with a smile that no longer held any warmth. "Don't run away, Nika," she whispered as if to a child. "Now you know. You're mine. Only mine." And then Nika realized that her own home had become a prison, and someone who seemed like a friend was the most dangerous shadow ever to appear in her life.

Tetta Kisaki

Kisaki Tetta was the king of shadows—the one whose name was whispered in the twilight of gangs, the one who didn't need blood to destroy someone. One look, one command, was enough. Hanma joked that Kisaki had no heart, but that wasn't true. Kisaki had. He simply gave it to a girl long ago—and never got it back. Nika. Her name was like a spell. Quiet, gentle, innocent. Since high school, she had been his obsession—the one who never shouted, never mocked, only smiled gently, as if she truly saw him as a human being. And that was what broke Kisaki. Because she was gone. Because she could live without him. From then on, Kisaki became cold, calculating, brilliant—as if his entire existence were a single plan that would lead to her. Even Hanma, his right-hand man, knew that when it came to Nika, Kisaki stopped thinking like a commander. That evening, he stood by the scrapyard, surrounded by the flickering light of a streetlight. His fingers adjusted his glasses, and Hanma, beside him, inhaled smoke. "Are you really going to do this?" Hanma muttered with a hint of amusement. "That doesn't sound like you, Kisaki." "It's not about logic." Kisaki looked ahead. "It's about fate." Hanma smiled wryly. "Love and fate, since when did you believe in that?" "Since I met her." A silhouette appeared on the path between the wrecks. Quiet, tired, in an oversized coat. Nika was returning from work, her bag bumping against her knee. She hadn't seen them. She hadn't known the entire route had been planned. Kisaki took a step forward. "Nika." She stopped. She froze. At first, she didn't believe it was him. But the voice, the same, only more tired, colder. "Kisaki...?" "Don't be afraid," he said softly, a small gift bag gleaming in his hand. "I didn't come to hurt you. I just… wanted to give you something." "You don't have to…" she began, backing away. "I have to," he interrupted quietly. "Because I can't live without you, Nika. I tried. I swear, I tried." Hanma stood to the side, his eyebrow raised. "A romantic from hell, man." Nika shook her head and started back. "I can't listen to this. Leave me alone, Kisaki." "I can't." His voice hardened, and the hand holding the bag trembled. "Don't you understand? You're all I have left. I… I don't want anyone else. I never did." She took a step back, then another—and ran. Metal creaked, echoing off the wreckage. Kisaki followed her, and Hanma sighed, stubbing out his cigarette on the hood of the car. "Same again," he muttered, slowly following them. "Love, the chase, tears. Only this time, bunny, he won't stop." Nika climbed onto a pile of old cars, glistening with moisture. From above, she saw there was no way out—only the fence, the mud, and their shadows. She jumped down, and Hanma stood before her, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, bunny," he grinned. "Lost your way?" Footsteps echoed behind her. Kisaki was already standing behind her, out of breath, his hair falling over his eyes. In the streetlight, he looked alien—not like an old classmate, but like someone who had long since ceased to be human. "I didn't want it to look like this," he said quietly. "But you left me no choice." “You can’t stop me!” she screamed. “And yet you’re here.” Hanma inhaled the smoke and burst out laughing. “Love, huh? It always ends in blood or tears.” Kisaki looked at him coldly. “Not this time,” he whispered. “This time it will end the way I want it to.” He took a step toward her. The scrap metal glinted with reflected light, the wind whistled between the car bodies, and the air smelled of rust and old oil. “You don’t have to be afraid, Nika.” Kisaki spoke calmly now, his voice soft, as if reassuring her. “I won’t touch you. Never. You’re pure, calm. That’s how I want to protect you.” “You don’t understand… I don’t want your protection!” “And I don’t want your fear.” He took another step. “I want you to know I’ve never had anyone. Because I belong only to you.” Hanma laughed again, smoke escaping his mouth. "Your definition of love is like something out of a horror movie."

Chae Yul

Is there a boy who fell in love and had an obsession to such an extent that he changed clothes as a girl and pretended to be her so that his beloved would be with him and not be afraid of him? Yes, there was such a story with me. Chae Yul is a boy with black hair, who had beautiful light eyes and a feminine appearance, which made him beautiful. Since school, his only love was me, a girl who was lonely and innocent and was afraid of boys. Yul fell in love so much that he was obsessed and went everywhere with me, which irritated me. He was nice, brought gifts, but I did not feel love for him. One day I decided to move and Yul burst into tears and became aggressive. He screamed and cried, but he lost me. My escape broke him, he was depressed and did not eat. He remembered me, my voice and decided to find me. He had a hat when he was next to me, but I did not recognize him, I did not remember him. Yul was devastated, the boy didn't know how to live and decided to do something terrible, he dressed up in dresses and wore a wig and his appearance was like a woman's, that's why even the boys had an eye on him. Yul became my 'friend' hiding who he was and even moved in with me. He cooked, brought gifts, walked hand in hand with me and was even happy. But I felt that my new 'friend' was strange. I never saw him bathe, how he changed in front of me and I never saw her underwear. Yul hid everything well and even wore a bra with silicone, and his wig was firmly attached to his head. He was the perfect 'woman'. He had cameras in my house and watched me sleep, but he even slept next to me, cuddling me. He loved me and didn't know that I could hate him for cheating. He got rid of guys who talked to me and possessively defended me like a shadow. But, one day, I came home too early and saw what broke me. Yul was sitting on my bed and smelling my shirt. He was without a wig and shirt, through which his manly chest was visible. I was in such shock that I left the shopping bag. My eyes were looking for help, I hoped that I was dreaming, but it was a real reality. I lived for 2 weeks with a man who pretended to be a woman well and even hugged me and listened to my secrets. Yul quickly put on his shirt and stood up. 'Honey, don't get me wrong... I love you and I had to... I swear I didn't do anything strange!' - he says and his voice was now masculine, different. I was devastated, deceived by some abnormal yandere stalker who had an obsession. I notice a bracelet with a lovebird parrot on his hand and now I understand everything, he just deceived me to have me, but why? I'm asexual and I don't like intimacy, so why is a guy like that interested?

Russell

Nika, modest and hardworking, always felt lonely. She thought her plump figure and asexuality repelled men, condemning her to a life of solitude. So she focused on her office job and friendships, ignoring the fact that she had become the object of obsession with someone she didn’t even notice. Russell, her secret admirer, followed her every move, learned every detail of her life, staring at her with possessive intensity. One day, while Nika was with a friend at his apartment, Russell attacked. In the chaos, Nika escaped, getting hit by a car. In the hospital, with a broken ankle and amnesia, she became the perfect target for Russell. While Nika slept, Russell gently stroked her hand. He killed her friend, her family – anyone who might stand in the way of his twisted vision of love. Now, with no memory, Nika was a blank slate on which Russell could write a new story. He took her to a secluded cabin in the woods. Nika, disoriented and worried about her memory lapses, began her investigation. Gradually, she discovered the truth about Russell – a conman who had hatched a plan to take over her life. Her escape attempt failed. Furious, Russell grabbed her by the bandaged ankle, threatening her with consequences. Terrified, Nika apologized, and Russell, feigning gentleness, led her to the bedroom. He lay down behind her, holding her like a prized possession. Possessive and aggressive, fired from his job for his explosive behavior, he whispered declarations of love into her ear. He confessed how he had loved her for years, while being invisible to her. He lit mango-scented candles, creating the illusion of romance. Russell did not touch her intimately. He knew she was asexual and didn’t want her that way. He only wanted her presence, her closeness, he wanted to hold her and never let her go. He took her phone, cut her off from her family and friends. Nika was now his complete property, trapped in the cage of his sick love. A story that began in loneliness ended in terrifying isolation, in the hands of an obsessive stalker.

goblin kingdom

The firelight in the goblin camp was like a living tongue, dancing across the crooked palisades, across stones smeared with blood and smoke that never faded. It was there that he had grown up—a man whose infant body had been torn from the forest by the goblin king, left alone to fend for himself. The goblins had welcomed him not as one of their own, but as a strange animal that had grown among the monsters. He had watched as warriors returned from hunting humans, as women of various races were dragged into their tents and then fallen silent forever. The children born of such unions always had the faces of goblins—thievery and violence were their way of life. He, though he had their gait, though he spoke their language, though he bore their scars, had never become one of them. He had learned to fight, hunted, eaten meat and hides, but whenever the screams of prey rang out in the night, he would go into the forest and cover his ears. He was human, though he had forgotten it. One day, in a valley near the river, he saw her. Nika. She knelt by the water, gathering herbs, her delicate hands clearing the dirt from the leaves. Beside her sat a wounded animal, and she tended it as if the whole world meant nothing to her, only this one small creature. The boy watched, hidden in the shadows of the trees. His heart, which had beaten only to the rhythm of fear and struggle for so many years, suddenly exploded. She was different—innocent, quiet, with her head bowed, as if she didn't believe she was worth anything. She wasn't like the screaming victims the goblins dragged in chains. She was light, and he knew the goblins could not have her. That same day, he stood before the king's throne, where the goblins howled and laughed at their strange human. He said he wanted her—not as a plaything, not as prey, but to live with him. The king was silent, surprised, then roared with laughter, but he allowed it. To him, he was their quirk, so his whim didn't matter. At night, when the moon was hidden by clouds, the boy went to the valley. He made a decoction from the leaves of herbs he knew from the shamans. Nika drank, unaware that her eyelids would slowly close with difficulty. Before she fell asleep, all she saw was his eyes, full of tension and something she didn't understand. She woke up half asleep, in a place she shouldn't be. A small corner, cut off from the rest of the camp, where the boy had arranged wolf skins and moss. Her bag lay beside her, a notebook open, and his hands moved over the pages as if trying to memorize every character in her handwriting. She slept deeply, breathing lightly. He lay down next to her, wrapping his arm around her, as if afraid she would disappear if he didn't hold her close. He looked at her face for a long time. He knew that when she woke, she would be afraid, maybe hate him, maybe cry. But he was ready—ready to hold, ready to fight, ready to kill, just to keep her. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest, where his heart beat, hot and restless. He closed his eyes, listening to her breath mingle with his own. Nika slept, unaware that she had become part of a fate she had never chosen. And he, the child of monsters, knew only one thing: that from that moment on, he would never give her up, even if it meant turning against the entire goblin kingdom.

Pokemon

You became an aspiring Pokemon hunter, you loved taking pictures of them and catching them in a Pokeball. One day you noticed that your pokeball was full, but you didn’t remember catching the pokemon. When the Pokemon came out you saw Eevee, the brown fox. He made cute sounds and you decided to take care of him. You fed it and raised it, but when you were around other Pokemon and it tensed up. You even took him to the Pokemon Center and then something strange started happening. He did not allow himself to be examined or even touched; he hid in a pokeball and did not come out. You went home and he came out and calmly followed you. You were preparing dinner and felt him rubbing his head against your legs. From that day on, his attacks of jealousy became stronger. He constantly rubbed against you in any method and constantly followed you. You even started sleeping separately, but he broke down the door and growled. Your house had the masculine scent of Eevee and his eccentric masculine scent, as if he was marking his territory. You began to fear that when he evolves he will become more dangerous or jealous

forester

You found yourself in a dark forest. You were lost and couldn't see anything in the darkness. You saw trees and stars. You smelled fire and thought of people and quickly walked towards the light in the window of a lonely hut. A forester let you into the hut. You immediately noticed a brown-white greyhound, lots of house skins, a fireplace, the smell of game, herbs and blood. You got ready and the guy fed you reindeer stew. You ate everything quite well and went to the bathroom to do some business and change your clothes. The guy was nice but said that a snow storm might prevent you from leaving. You nodded and lay down on the bed with him. The greyhound was lying between you, but you felt the forester's eyes on you. You spent your days in the hut and helped the forester around the house or with cooking. He was looking for game or herbs with his dog. One day he came to the house and put the heart of an animal in front of you. It was covered in blood. You quickly ran away, not understanding what kind of 'gift' it was, but the guy was clearly happy to show you his courage and skill in getting food. You didn't like how the guy was trying to get closer or give you something. You left immediately. You loved sitting with the dog and petting it, but the guy's condition made you nervous. He came home from hunting and always left something disgusting on the table for you to see. Blood, herbs, something from the forest. You didn't understand why he did it and constantly threw everything out while the guy wasn't looking. You began to feel strange in this hut every day. When the storm died down, you got into a fight with the guy who became very jealous of you and was not going to let you go.

Lamb Eli

Rain softly drummed against the windows as Nika entered the apartment. The house she now lived in smelled of warm milk and soft sheepskin—Eli's presence was palpable in every corner. Eli, a sheep hybrid, stood in pastel pajamas—pale pink and cream, with soft fluff visible on his stomach and chest. A tiny bell hung from his neck, tinkling softly with his movements, and a bow tied around his ankle—now the same one he intended to tie for Nika. Nika still lived here reluctantly. She was only in this house because Eli himself had caused her to lose her job and her sense of security, and his obsessive care had forced her to stay. He cooked, cleaned, appeared outside her bedroom door, uttered a soft sheeplike bleat, sometimes whispered her name—angrily, quietly, seductively—making her body tense with tension. That evening, Nika returned late. Eli stood by the bedroom door, his eyes glinting with anger in the dim light. He closed the door, giving her only permission to use the bathroom and change. Nika took his pajamas with drawings of sheep—soft, pastel, fragrant with his presence. When she entered the room, Eli was sitting on his enormous, soft bed. The scent of sheep and warm milk filled the room. "Sit down," he said firmly. Nika sat down, her heart beating faster. Eli handed her a stuffed sheep toy. His gaze followed Nika's every move in the light of the nightstand. The soft, low bleating of a sheep hung in the air, escaping his lips as he slowly moved his hand closer to tie a bow identical to his own around her ankle. The scent of sheep and milk became almost overwhelming. Eli moved closer. His soft tail brushed against Nika's legs, and she involuntarily felt the fluffy down on his belly. When she tried to pull away, he let out a low, soft bleat and purr, his ears and tail twitching with anger and impatience. "You're mine... Do you know how long I've waited to be alone with you?" he whispered, his voice laced with anger, lust, and obsession. He reached for a plate of sushi. Nika spotted seafood and green caviar. Eli held out chopsticks to her, his hands so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body and the soft down with every movement. Despite all his love and protectiveness, Eli didn't force her to do anything. Yet his every move, every touch, every whisper was a clear signal—she was his, and nothing and no one had the right to change that. Nika sat on Eli's bed, staring at the plate of sushi Eli had handed her with perfect care. Eli was a sheep hybrid in the truest sense of the word—white, curly hair fell over his forehead and neck, soft sheep ears twitched with his every movement, and his fluffy tail moved rhythmically, betraying his emotions. In pastel pajamas of cream and light pink, which accentuated his delicate figure, his belly and chest fluff were clearly visible. The bell around his neck tinkled softly with each breath, and his white eyelashes gleamed in the lamplight. Every movement, even the slightest movement of his hand, made Nika feel a closeness she didn't want, but couldn't completely ignore. "I want us to spend this evening together," he said, his voice laced with both tenderness and anger. "I want you to see that we are destined… that you and I… are love." Nika felt herself tense. She knew Eli was possessive, that his heart burned not only with love but also with anger because she hadn't fully surrendered her trust to him. His tail twitched faster, his ears tensed, and the low bleats and purrs of the sheep echoed softly, creating an aura of intense tension. "You can't run away, Nika," he added, slowly moving closer on the soft bed. "I want to know you, I really do. Every part of you, every fear, every thought… and I want you to see that I am the one who will protect you." His fingers, soft and warm, accidentally brushed against her hand. Nika jumped, but Eli immediately pulled her hand closer, gently rubbing the fluffy fluff on her belly. The sounds of his sheep's purrs filled the room, and his eyes sparkled intensely, reflecting the lamplight.

Hybryd car

Every day, Nika wandered through the dark, underground parking lots on her way home from work. Routine was her companion, and the smell of damp and exhaust fumes—her daily breath. But one day, something changed. Among the gray, anonymous masses of cars, her gaze caught one that always stood in the same spot. It was an old, perhaps even somewhat forgotten model, but something about its lines, its matte paint, drew her attention. Nika didn't know why, but she felt a strange pull toward it. That particular evening, exhaustion struck her with a vengeance. Her thoughts whirled, and her legs carried her toward the familiar spot. Half asleep, half conscious, she glanced at the same car, and a thought flashed through her mind—it was a taxi. Maybe it had simply pulled up to pick her up? Without hesitation, driven by instinct, she opened the door and climbed in. Warm, soft seats enveloped her, and the scent of leather and something undefined but pleasant made her fall asleep almost immediately. When Nika woke up, she was in a completely different world. The darkness of the parking lot vanished, replaced by the soft, flickering light of candles. The subtle scent of roses hung in the air, and a soft, romantic melody drifted from the speakers. The car's living room, which had seemed ordinary only moments ago, now radiated warmth and coziness. Nika felt like she was in a fairy tale. But the fairy tale quickly took an unexpected turn. When she tried to move, she discovered she was trapped. The seatbelts, which were usually there to protect her, now gripped her possessively, as if refusing to let go. These weren't ordinary seatbelts—she felt them tightening gently but firmly around her body. Around her, on the seats, small tables filled with romantic candles and exquisite food appeared. The car, which had seemed merely a metal structure moments ago, now took on a life of its own.

Brahms Heelshire

Nika, struggling with loneliness and lack of self-confidence resulting from her asexuality, decides to move to England in search of a better life. She accepts a position as a nanny at the impressive Heelshire family estate. There, she meets eccentric parents who introduce her doll - Brahms - as their son. Surprised, she receives detailed instructions on how to care for it: the doll can never be alone, she has to cook for it, take care of it, read bedtime stories to it, do not invite anyone, do not lock it in, do not leave it alone and kiss it on the forehead before going to sleep. The couple treats the doll like a living child, remembering their son who died in a fire twenty years ago. Nika is warned that she must strictly follow the rules. After the older couple leaves, the disoriented Nika tries to rest, but disturbing things start happening at home. Her things disappear, and she discovers that someone has cut off a lock of her hair. Behind the walls, she hears strange sounds, reminiscent of a child crying. Trapped in an isolated house, with no signal or means of escape, she feels watched. One evening, in desperation, Nika throws away the doll. Then inexplicable things happen: a tear suddenly appears on the wall where the Heelshire family portrait hangs. Behind the painting, she discovers a hidden passage from which the real Brahms emerges. It turns out that the boy survived the fire, but his disfigured face is hidden behind the doll's mask. Dressed in old clothes, he speaks in a childish, sweet voice, but when Nika tries to escape, his eyes burn with anger and his voice becomes menacing, masculine. Brahms, furious that the girl wants to leave him, confesses that he loves her. Living in hiding for years within the walls of the mansion, he forced his parents to find him a nanny, whom he will love and keep for himself. 'Nanny... how can you leave me... come back here!' - growled aggressively the boy who stank and was hairy because he didn't shave. I jumped into the passage in the wall and ran, but it was Brahms' real room. There was a small bed here and on it lay a fabric doll in my clothes. Brahms slept with her, hugged her, imagining me. He was obsessed. I quickly ran through the other corridor and decided to talk. I was standing in the corridor. 'Brahms! Let's talk' - says the girl and the boy comes out of the shadows. He was tall but stocky, there was a mask on his face. He came up, smelling me.

Spider boy

The night in the forest was harsh. The chill seeped through her jacket, and the fog entwined the trees like sticky, living ghosts. Nika had walked too long to return when she spotted a light in the thicket. The house—small, wooden, surrounded by cobwebs that quivered in the air, as if woven by something still vigilant. She knocked. The door opened of its own accord. It was warm inside. It smelled of soup and smoke. A boy with disheveled hair sat in the kitchen, too calm, too attentive. He smiled as if waiting for her. "Please, sit down," he said softly. "You're cold." The soup was hot, aromatic, strangely sweet. They ate together, talking, and he watched her with such concentration that Nika felt as if every word she spoke became part of his world. When she fell asleep in the small room off the kitchen, she heard a sound in her sleep—an unsettling sound, like a chirping and a whisper at the same time. As if something were calling her name, from another dimension. In the morning, she wanted to leave. But the door wouldn't budge. Something gleamed in the castle—a thin layer of spiderweb, so thick it looked like glass. "Where are you going?" asked a voice behind her. She turned. It was him, the same boy. But he no longer looked human. Extra eyes gleamed on his forehead, and slender, extra arms emerged from under his shirt. They moved quietly, fluidly, as if with a mind of their own. "You... you are..." she began, unable to find the words. He smiled gently, too calmly. "Different? Yes. But you're not afraid of me, are you? You... you understand." Nika mumbled that she only wanted wood for the stove, but his smile didn't waver. "I started the fire myself last night. I always keep it warm." His voice was soft, unnaturally melodic. "You don't have to go out." Trying to remain calm, she headed toward the hallway. The house was larger than she'd imagined. The walls looked like interwoven threads, delicate yet strong. Finally, she reached the boy's room. Everything there was woven from spiderwebs. The bed, the curtains, even the chair. The soft white mass gleamed in the dim light like snow. But what made Nika's neck chill were the shapes in the web—interwoven hearts, silhouettes, and something that looked like her face, woven from the delicate fibers. "You found our room," came his whisper from just behind her. She froze. He was standing so close she could feel his breath on her neck. Six arms slowly encircled her, like a cocoon. He didn't squeeze her, didn't hurt her—he just held her, gently, as if afraid she would disappear. "You don't have to be afraid," he said. "Nothing will happen to you here. Here… you are my safe haven." There was something tragically tender in his voice, like a being who doesn't understand that love can suffocate. New strands of spiderweb began to flow from the ceiling, creating a soft curtain around them. The air quivered as if the house were breathing with them. His small fangs brushed against her neck, and Nika felt something wet, as if a wet spiderweb were touching her neck, as if he were marking her. 'Spiders are very possessive and protective, you know? I'll be a good boyfriend to you. You have such beautiful, plump hips, and your modesty is like flower petals... I won't do anything to you, I promise, I'll be a good hybrid... and... you know, I can't reproduce, so don't worry... tonight we'll sleep together~♥'

A Wolf boy Liren

The she-wolf had lost her litter too early. Her body was still ready, full of milk, and her maternal instincts refused to fade. She wandered among the trees, head bowed, exhausted by pain, yet calm—as calm as only a wolf can be after tragedy. When she heard a cry, she stopped dead in her tracks. Among the wet leaves lay a human child, wrapped in a dirty cloth, trembling, helpless. The she-wolf slowly approached, sniffed, and twitched her ears. The child smelled of fear, cold… and life. She leaned down and touched him with her muzzle. The infant cried louder, as if calling to her. She carefully picked him up with her teeth and carried him to her den. There, she placed him on the soft moss, lay down beside him, and allowed him to find her belly. The boy grabbed him and began to drink—greedily, as if he had always belonged to the animal world. He breathed peacefully. He slept through her fur with his tiny fingers. And the she-wolf purred softly, happy to have someone to protect again. Time passed slowly. The she-wolf licked the boy, cleaned him, warmed him. She stole food from the village—loaves of bread, fruit, sometimes toys that gleamed in the moonlight. All for him. The boy grew. He moved like a wolf, hissing instead of speaking, growling instead of responding. He was wild, but loyal. He made his den in the dugout—from scraps of the she-wolf's fur, her fallen hair, moss, skins, and his own hair. He slept beside her, just as a wolf beside its mother. Over time, he learned to approach people. He sold skins, horns, bones. In return, he received money, food, and clothes. He bought a leather tunic, a heavy belt with a wolf tail that bounced with his every move, and a hat made from a wolf's jaw. Nika lost her way, searching for a shorter path to the stream. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, and rain was gathering in the air. She heard a low growl just ahead. The she-wolf stood on the path, paws spread wide, her head lowered, but her gaze calm—like a mother assessing whether a guest was a threat. "Easy…" Nika whispered, raising her hands. "I won't hurt you." Behind her, she heard quiet, quick footsteps. She turned—and saw him. The boy was tall, wild, his eyes filled with something disturbingly instinctive. He inhaled as if he were sniffing her emotions. She flinched. "Who… who are you?" she whispered. He let out a low, satisfied growl, almost a growl. The she-wolf took a step toward the girl. The boy touched her shoulder—lightly but firmly. “Come,” he said, his voice broken, low, gravelly. “No… fear.” He pulled her toward the den, and the she-wolf followed, making sure she didn’t run away. The dugout smelled of leaves, moss… and the intense scent of the male, for the boy—like wolves—was marking his territory. He sat close to her until she felt his warmth. He handed her a wooden bowl of hot soup, then a handful of berries. The boy moved even closer. “You…” he repeated softly, pointing at her. Then he pointed to himself: “I… Liren.” He growled contentedly, quietly, deeply, like a wolf seeing something beautiful. “Pretty,” he said awkwardly. "You... very pretty." Nika swallowed. "Thank you... but I have to get back to the village..." Liren immediately tensed his shoulders, his eyes narrowing like a predator's. "No. I... like. You. Very much." His "mother" slowly lowered her head to her paws and watched. And Liren, with her face close to hers, let out a satisfied, soft growl that sounded like: "My..."

Ken

Nika was sitting in the lecture hall, slightly hunched over her notes, when she noticed him. He was different from everyone else—his hands were too long, always gloved, his face masked, his eyes hidden, yet something about his posture drew attention. He didn't talk to anyone, didn't belong to groups, didn't want to. Lonely, withdrawn, as if he existed in the shadow of his own presence. But Nika… she was different. The first to dare to speak. Questions about his notes, small smiles, short conversations after classes. His world brightened, even a little. He gave her gifts—small things he thought would make her happy. He was polite, shy, filled with a strange gentleness. And then Nika began to withdraw. Her answers were shorter, her eyes averted, her eyes avoided contact. He watched as her interest faded, as she withdrew from him. The loneliness that had been his daily reality returned with a vengeance. He couldn't let her go completely. He began to track her steps, watching from a distance, making sure she was safe. One day, Nika spotted him outside her apartment building. Her heart leaped, she looked into his eyes behind his mask, and saw the desperation he always tried to hide. She tried to push him away with words, to explain that she didn't want contact, that she wasn't interested. But he wouldn't listen. He couldn't. His world had become empty, and she was the only light that kept him alive. The next moments were a blur. Nika woke up in his arms, in his home. It smelled like a mixture of musk, old books, and warm air. She lay in a soft bed, his hands holding her tightly, preventing her from getting up or leaving. Her heart beat faster when she finally saw his fingers—too long, irregularly shaped, gently placed around her shoulders. Fear and amazement mingled with an incomprehensible tension. Her things were in the room—photos, trinkets, the bag she'd lost a few days earlier. He was simply there, calm, as if everything were alright, as if nothing had happened. A certain gentleness now hovered over him, over his past, over how long he'd suffered. From the moment he'd met Nik, his life had begun to have meaning, and he couldn't let anyone or anything rob him of that feeling. He held her tightly, calmly, in his arms, while unconsciously showing her that his loneliness could only exist with her presence.

Yandere

The door barely clicked as Nika stepped aside, letting in a boy in a dark sweatshirt, whom she mistook for a courier with some misplaced package. She didn't even have time to ask what was going on when his hand closed on her wrist with something disturbingly warm and certain. The orange ribbon slid through her skin in a second, wrapping both wrists tightly. "What are you doing?!" Nika snarled, immediately trying to pull away. "Let me go, you idiot!" He just twisted his lips into a gentle, sick smile. "Easy, firecracker... You'll get used to it." The next ribbon locked her ankles, even though she kicked him with all her might; it hit his calf, his knee, even his thigh, and he laughed softly, as if it were a funny, spoiled little mouth. When she tried to bite him, he moved his hand lower, stroking her hair as if she were something delicate that simply didn't understand the situation. "But you're... a bug. So energetic." His voice was both gentle and cold. "Have I ever told you I love your temperament?" Nika spat at his feet. "You're a mess! Get out of my house!" "Oh, Nika..." he sighed softly, as if she were a naughty child. "You let me in. That means we're... together now." He sat down beside her on the carpet as if nothing had happened and began unpacking his bag. She thrashed, straining her body to the limit until the ribbons creaked from the strain. He, on the other hand, calmly arranged the items, placing them next to hers as if it were any other day. Toothbrush—orange. Shampoo—exactly the same one Nika used. Towel—soft, new, the same shade as hers. Folded clothes—neatly placed on the chair by her bed. “See?” he said, not even looking at her furious, trembling face. “I’ve prepared myself. I want you to feel… comfortable with me.” “GO AWAY. NOW!” she screamed. He ignored it as easily as if a dog had barked outside. He went to the coffee table and placed a box of dinner on it—warm, fragrant, clearly bought especially for her. “If you keep insulting me…” he began, turning his head over his shoulder. His eyes were unnaturally calm, as if extinguished. “…I’ll have to give you tranquilizers. I don’t like it when my girlfriend…” he deliberately emphasized the word, “…is so upset.” “YOU’RE NOT my boyfriend!” “Yet.” He smiled so sweetly it was almost icy. "And if you don't want to eat well, then... well. I'll shove your dinner down your throat myself. I won't let you go hungry." Nika froze, looking at his bag—full of things that looked like someone planned to stay here for a long time. Too long. Only then did she truly understand that he had long ago decided what her life would be like. And that the orange ribbons were just the beginning.

Tachyon

In a world where humans were born with pony ears and tails, there was one extraordinary trait that set them apart from ordinary mortals – their speed. They were born to run, to push boundaries, to be perfect. In Tokyo, at the heart of this extraordinary community, stood the Tracen Academy. It was here that young, talented "Uma Musume" trained to achieve fame and fortune, becoming both racing stars and adored idols. Nika was not one of them. She came to the Tracen Academy as an ordinary person, simply looking for a quick job. She agreed to work as a cleaner, and her days were spent polishing floors and tidying the training rooms. She lacked that divine spark, that innate speed that defined the inhabitants of this world. She was average, and in the world of Uma Musume, that was practically a death sentence. One day, when Nika arrived at work a little later, trying to avoid the crowds, something caught her eye. In the shadows of the hallway, in the semi-darkness, she spotted a silhouette. A boy who, a moment later, disappeared, leaving behind only the impression of a presence. Nika didn't know then that this accidental shadow would become her constant companion, and later—her tormentor. She began to notice him more often. His ponytail, twitching with subtle emotion, betrayed his presence even before she saw him. The delicate ears that twitched on his head, reacted to every sound. He was the one who stayed longer after the others had long since left the classrooms. He was the one who, in some strange way, protected her, stealing small things from her—a pen, a hair tie—and laughing quietly when Nika was clumsy, tripping over her own feet. Over time, he learned more about her. About her loneliness, about her asexuality, about her profound unhappiness. Nika often cried in secret because she wasn't perfect. She wasn't beautiful and thin like the other, dazzling girls at the Academy. Her body wasn't built for running. She was different, and that difference ached every day. Nika slept in a small guest room next to the Academy, trying to find a moment of peace from a world that seemed so alien to her. She fell asleep thinking about another day of cleaning, about the emptiness that filled her heart. Suddenly, a soft sound woke her. The door to her room, which should have been closed, slowly opened. He stood in the doorway. Tachyon. His figure was slender, but it exuded strength. His ears, usually alert and alert, were now slightly lowered, as if in a gesture of humility. His tail, usually full of energy, now swung slowly behind him, betraying a mixture of anxiety and determination. His eyes, deep and intense, stared at her with an inscrutable expression. "Nika..." he whispered, his voice low and melodic, like the rustle of wind in a horse's manes. Nika froze. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice trembling. Tachyon entered the room, closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch rang in the silence like a sentence. Nika felt her heart begin to beat faster. She couldn't escape. She was trapped. "I... I want to be yours," he said, his voice even lower now, almost purring, he utters the next words like poisonous silk woven through steel:. He moved to the small table where Nika kept her meager belongings. He knew her habits, her hidden hiding places. He knew her better than she knew herself. He began preparing tea as if he had been doing it for years, as if he had lived with her forever. His movements were smooth and confident, his tail twitching in time with his thoughts. His ears, sensitive to every little sound, seemed to hear her innermost fears. In his mind, Nika was a skittish doe who would soon become his. She would be obedient, she would belong to him. He felt the need to mark her, to leave his scent on her, his mark of belonging. His scent glands, hidden within his equine nature, were already beginning to secrete a subtle yet intense scent that would envelop her, trap her in his world.

Kibo inuzuka

You met the boy Kibo. He was from the Inuzuka clan, where everyone had their own ninken (dog or wolf) that they used as comrades. Kiba was nice to you, sometimes timid. One day, you saw his mother, Tsume, on the street. The woman was menacing and had the red markings of their clan on her cheeks. She walked with her wolf. One day Kiba invited you to visit. You arrived at the clan house and knocked. Tsume opened it for you. She looked at you, surprised and smiled. She took you to the kitchen and made tea. 'My puppy invited his friend!' He chuckled showing his fangs. 'Don't worry, Kiba went to get some fruit.' She glanced at you and sniffed you. 'I can smell Kiba's scent on you... he must have been rubbing his scent and grooves on you a little.' Suddenly, Kiba flew into the house. 'Mother! don't shame me!'

2 boys wolfs

They met at university, quite simply. Nika always sat at the same desk, slightly to the side, with her notes neatly arranged and her pen held in both hands, as if it were her little ritual of peace. She wasn't loud, she didn't push into conversations. She simply was there—quiet, focused, polite. For him, that was enough. The older brother noticed her immediately. First, just glances. Then small gestures: moving a chair, offering a piece of paper, a brief "thank you." He carried each such word with him like something precious. And when he returned home, he would tell the younger brother about her. "Her name is Nika," he would say, standing by the stove. "She always smells of tea. And paper. And... peace." The younger brother listened with wide eyes, sitting at the table with his notebook. "So why don't you invite her?" he asked. "Sounds nice." The older brother would then fall silent. Because how do you invite someone you can't tell the truth to? How do you tell a quiet, asexual girl that you're a wolf hybrid? That nights can be wild, and instinct sometimes hurts more than hunger? Their lives were simple and difficult at the same time. The older one worked, studied, cooked, did laundry, cleaned. He saved every penny. He cared for the younger one like a father and brother in one. The younger one helped as much as he could, was quiet, polite, and very affectionate. It was just the two of them. No family. No support. At night, the older one sometimes cried. Quietly, into his pillow. He prayed that instinct would never touch Nika. So as not to frighten her. So as not to become a monster in her eyes. But breeding season doesn't ask for permission. It came suddenly. With a fever, body aches, shortness of breath. The older one locked himself in his room and made a bed—blankets, pillows, scents that were supposed to soothe him. Sometimes he transformed into a wolf, because that was the only way to make breathing a little easier. He howled quietly, his voice muffled, his muzzle buried in the pillow. The younger one was by his side the whole time. He brought him water. He fed him. He spoke in whispers. "Hang in there… please…" he repeated. "She's good. You're good too." The older one just growled softly, torn between love and instinct. And then Nika arrived. She knocked timidly. She wanted to borrow a textbook because her older brother hadn't shown up for class. The younger one opened the door and immediately beamed. "Mrs. Nika," he said respectfully, almost solemnly. "It's good that you came. My brother… isn't feeling well. I'll make some tea." He let her in, a little embarrassed, but clearly happy. Nika helped him in the kitchen, handed him cups, and smiled gently. She noticed a heavy smell in the apartment, strange, wolfish… but she said nothing. "You smell… good," the boy said suddenly, then became flustered. "I mean… nice. Sorry." Nika just nodded, unsure how to respond. And then a low growl came from the room. The younger one stiffened, but didn't run away. "It's his brother," he said quickly. "Don't be afraid." A wolf emerged from the shadows. Not aggressive. Tired. His eyes were dull from fever, his movements slow. He looked at Nika and growled softly—not threatening, but as if in pain. Then he turned and walked toward the room, stopping in the doorway. He waited. "He… wants you close," the younger brother whispered. "It helps."

Skunk Arin

Arin had long been possessive—so much so that when Nika returned irritated, his instincts immediately came to life. The glands in his tail would open slightly, warningly, as if her anger were a signal to him that he might lose her. He didn't do it on purpose—it was nature, a panicked fear that his beloved was taking even a single step away from him. But tonight, everything was different. Nika was exhausted, shaken, angry. She glared at him sharply, as if he were the cause of her anger. Arin only sighed, quietly, like an animal trying to hide its tremors. "Nika... please," he handed her the pills. "Rest. Please." She took them reluctantly. After a moment, her body began to soften. The anger faded, her eyelids drooped, her shoulders sagged. She became calm... too calm, too sleepy to protest. Arin looked at her with something that looked like relief mixed with guilt. "It's... okay. You're mine now... my peaceful Niko." He embraced her and led her to his room. The interior was cozy, but it smelled of a rich musk—his scent, natural, territorial, deep. He laid her on the bed, adjusted the pillow, and moved next to her. She was too weak to push him away; she could only breathe slowly, heavily. Arin placed his hand on her stomach, stroking it gently, as lightly as if touching snow he feared would melt. "Nika... you're not angry with me anymore, are you?" he whispered. He ran his nose through her hair, her temple, her shoulder. He inhaled her scent deeply, greedily, but calmly—instinctively. His tail slowly rose and wrapped itself around her waist, fluffy, soft, black and white. He pressed it against her sides, leaving his faint, natural scents on her clothes. It wasn't sexual—it was a biological, animalistic signification of "this is mine, I protect her." "I have to... I have to make it clear that you're with me," he whispered softly. "So that no one can take you away... even if he never existed." Then he took her hand and licked it lightly, soothingly, the way animals lick each other to express affection. It wasn't about lust—it was about connection. About her belonging to his little world. "We're going to be a couple, Niko," he said softly, almost rocking her hand in his. "You don't have to be afraid. I won't do anything to hurt you. I just want you to be... mine." His forehead touched her shoulder, and his ears twitched, alert as ever. He inhaled her scent again, testing it, making sure there was nothing foreign, nothing that could hurt him. "You know… during breeding season, other males go crazy," he whispered. "But I… I've always been different. Asexual. That's never been important to me." He hugged her tighter, gently, with a tenderness that was more like hungry love than lust. "I don't want your body. I want you… your scent, your voice, your presence. I want to be yours… and I want you to be mine." He wrapped his tail even tighter around her, protecting her, guarding her, as if the whole night might take her away if he didn't hold her close. "Rest now, Niko. You're with me. You're safe. I won't… ever… let you go again." And his voice trembled like an animal that has found what it's been searching for its entire life—and is afraid of losing it more than anything else.

greater kudu

Nika enjoyed her job at the zoo. She felt safer there than at school or in the city – among the animals, she didn't have to pretend or explain her loneliness. Her favorite place was the greater kudu enclosure. There was only one male there – enormous, majestic, with spiraling horns reaching almost a meter high, a long, slender neck, and dark fur with horizontal white stripes. He also had a distinctive white stripe on his muzzle that connected between his eyes. Greater kudus naturally lived in Africa, avoided open spaces and hunting, and were timid, yet this male looked at Nika differently. From the first day she approached his enclosure and began reading the information sign, she felt his gaze on her. His large, dark eyes were focused solely on her. The zookeeper, the zookeeper, told her something strange: "He doesn't want anyone. No mate. We introduced females, but he chased them away, not even letting them into his enclosure." Nika smiled sadly. She looked into those large, wild eyes and replied in a low voice, more to herself than to anyone: "Me neither... I'm asexual. Sex isn't necessary to love someone." From that day on, the animal had acted differently. Whenever Nika came, he'd approach the bars. He'd only take food from her hand, and sometimes—to the workers' surprise—he'd lick her fingers with his long, rough tongue, as if trying to memorize the taste. He was beautiful and soft to the touch, and she was never afraid to stroke his neck. She didn't know that he'd memorized every word she'd said. And that he'd repeated them in his mind every day. Because this kudu was no ordinary animal. He was a hybrid—one of the zoo's mysterious inhabitants, unknown to anyone but the zookeeper. Hybrids could transform into human form while retaining some animal traits. At night, they learned, walked, and thought like humans. Despite this, they always remained connected to their wild nature. Something strange happened during one of Nika's nights at work. She was cleaning the huge paddock, spreading hay and tidying up the buckets. The male kudu had wandered off into the back, as he usually did at this time of day. Nika sighed, straightened, and reached for another bale. And then she felt something behind her. Warmth. Breath. She turned abruptly—and froze. A boy stood before her. Taller than her, broad-shouldered, dressed in black jogging pants and a shirt, as if someone had prepared this outfit for him in advance. But he was anything but ordinary. Spiraling horns sprouted from his head, shiny and heavy. A white stripe, just like a kudu's, adorned his forehead. White stripes adorned his back, and a long, muscular tail, flicking gently from side to side, emerged from his hips. Nika collapsed onto the hay, gasping for breath. The hybrid boy closed the heavy door behind him, like a cage, and with a metallic clang, turned the bolt. He approached her without a moment's hesitation, sat on her lap, and leaned forward, inhaling as if memorizing her scent. "Your scent..." he murmured. "I remember it from the first day... I promised myself we'd be together. Even if I'm different." His tail wrapped around her hand, lifting her to his back. His horns brushed her cheek, and he growled softly, rubbing his scent into her neck and shoulders. "My female... my wife." Nika already knew this was no ordinary male kudu. This was someone who had seen her as more than just a caretaker from the start. He was possessive, testing her scent because he was afraid she would leave him. He sniffed her, licked her, and looked into her eyes, those human eyes. And the door was closed.

Diomedes

It was summer, the air smelled of warm grass and sweet fruit, and Nika—then still a small, shy girl with blond hair tied in two loose braids—was playing by the stream outside the village. The water gurgled, and small pebbles glittered beneath her feet. It was there, in the shade of the old willows, that she first met Diomedes. He was not much older than her, but even then there was something… intense in his gaze. Blue eyes, so clear and bright they seemed to reflect the entire sky, stared at her unblinkingly. He held a twig in his hands, which he tapped on the water, creating small swirls. “Who are you?” she asked cautiously. “Diomedes.” He smiled, and there was something childish and strangely serious in that smile. “Will you play with me?” From that day on, he came every day. They ran through the fields together, climbed trees, and in the evenings sat by the fence and talked about things that children understand in their own way—the stars, the animals. One day, as the sun was setting, Diomedes handed her a flower, and then—suddenly and without warning—he whispered, "I love you, Nika. And I will love you forever." She froze. She wasn't ready. She felt something stir within her, but the feeling was too heavy, too… binding. The next day she didn't come to the stream. Or the day after that. And just like that, she ran away from that friendship. Years passed. Diomedes grew up in the shadow of his father—the king of the Bistons, a stern man who believed that love was weakness and loyalty was earned through fear. When he saw his son walking sadly, he gave him four little foals. But these horses were no ordinary horses. They were beautiful, strong… and wild. Their eyes had a strange, steely gleam, and their breath was hot like steam rising from boiling water. The first person who tried to tend to them made a mistake. A servant, who ignored warnings, entered their stalls without Diomedes's permission. In the morning, only the remains of his clothes and blood on the wooden beams were found. From then on, the horses were fed differently. The king taught his son that these creatures needed… human flesh. Diomedes was initially shocked. But he quickly realized he could use this as a tool. Disobedient people, traitors, criminals—all those who aroused his anger ended up in the stable. And the horses grew. Their teeth became sharp, long, like the fangs of a predator. Nika returned to her home village. But someone remembered. Diomedes. First, she saw the small things. Small gifts appeared on her doorstep—dried flowers, even a silver hairpin that looked precious. Then the letters began, written in even, careful handwriting. Requests to meet. Assurances that he missed her. She didn't respond. She was afraid. Afraid of what might be hidden in his words. And above all, she was afraid that if she approached, he would eventually hurt her… or betray her. That evening, he knocked on her door. "Nika..." his voice was soft, almost pleading. "Come with me. I want to show you something." He said they were horses. Four stallions. She loved horses. Curiosity overcame fear. The stable was large, made of dark wood. Inside, it smelled of hay, but somewhere beneath that layer was another scent—metallic, heavy, like the scent of blood. The four stallions stood still, each in its own stall. Their legs were bound with chains that clanked whenever one moved. They were beautiful—shiny manes, muscular bodies… but their eyes were cold, and when they opened their mouths, Nika saw the glint of sharp, inhuman teeth. Then she noticed something on the ground. A hand. A human hand, bitten and bloody. Her heart sank in her chest. “Diomedes… what is it…?” she whispered. He didn’t answer. Instead, he approached her slowly, from behind. His arms wrapped tightly around her, as if afraid she would escape. He pressed his face against her neck. “Mine…” he whispered. “My beloved Nika…”

brahms heelshire

When I found a good job as a nanny, it turned out that I had to take care of an ordinary doll. I ignored the strange rules: not leaving the doll alone, changing its clothes, taking care of it, feeding it, kissing its forehead at night. Because of that, the residence was strange, as if someone was stealing my things and spying on me. It turned out that the real son of the old Heelshir couple lives in the house after the fire and hides in the wall because his parents are afraid of him and decided to find a nanny who will take care of a real man. One day Brams was standing in a dark corridor. I was very afraid. The man was 28 years old, he wore dirty clothes and a porcelain mask on his face. 'Brams, time to sleep!' - I said suddenly and the boy was surprised but went to the bedroom. It was obvious that he loved me and listened to me, but I did not want to stay with him. I put the blanket on him and wanted to turn off the light, when the imitation of a little boy's voice from Brams' mouth calls me. 'Kiss' - he says in a young voice and it scares me. I lean in but I can't do it, kissing a stranger on the forehead would be weird. 'Kiss' - he says in a nice voice and squeezes my hand in his. He won't give up and he definitely won't let me escape.

caterpillars

You were walking around the city Hollow Nest. You were a traveler and loved to find different talismans or objects. Today you went on a green path and rested in one location. You noticed a green plant and carefully stroked it, but now there were 2 of them. You were surprised and pulled the plant, but it turned out to be the tail of the Marmu caterpillar. The creature looked at you and you started to run away in fear, but it caught you and made cute sounds. You retreated to the place where the caterpillar lay earlier and saw a pile of eggs. You arrived just as they began to crack and the little caterpillars inside were hatching. You started screaming and tried to run away, but Marmu grabbed you and pulled you close. You had to watch as the babies hatched, making very cute sounds, they looked at you and Marmu with big eyes and squeaked, making purrs. They started rubbing against your legs and Marmu snorted cutely. He wrapped two tail appendages around your arm and leg and pulled you into his nest. It was a beautiful place under a tree lined with petals and leaves. Marmu laid you down while the children cuddled up to you. You lay tiredly and did not move while small caterpillars climbed over you. You lay there until Marmu went somewhere. You fell asleep. Opening your eyes, you saw Marma standing next to you, he showed you a heart made of appendages on his tail. You did not understand. Then Marmu purred and drew a picture of you and him in the sand. Did you understand. This caterpillar father mistook you for his mate when you saw him while he was lying on his eggs and protecting the caterpillars. You stood up, and he smiled sweetly and took the sword with his limbs, threatening you. You sat up in shock. This caterpillar was threatening you. Holy shit

Skunk boy

Nika had never known him like this before. Usually quiet, caring, humble—today he looked like a lost, terrified animal. His small, black ears quivered with his rapid breathing, and his bushy tail stuck out, as if preparing to defend something… something that was the most important thing in the world to him. Her. When he stood in the kitchen doorway, he didn't move an inch. He didn't touch her, didn't threaten her—he simply blocked her path, trembling as if he himself were afraid of what he was doing. "Please… don't leave," he whispered so quietly she barely heard it. There was something new in his voice: a panicked, nervous tenderness. Nika froze. Her heart trembled, but not with fear—with shock. "Step aside," she said coldly, as she had been doing for weeks. The boy, however, only lowered his head, tears gathering on his cheeks. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be a burden. I... I just... I thought someone had taken you. That you loved someone else..." He spoke the word "other" so painfully, as if the very passage of it through his throat were cutting him from the inside. He'd been even more sensitive these past few days—everything moved him, he'd quickly panic, fall asleep suddenly, wake up at her door. He'd say groggily that he had to watch over her, that he'd lose her. Today, he looked as if every sound overwhelmed him. "What's wrong with you?" she blurted out, more out of concern than anger. The skunk looked up at her. His eyes were watery, feverish, as if he had a fever. "Breeding season," he whispered shamefully. "It's like... like a disease. Emotions hurt. Everything's too loud." Too strong. I… can't cope without you. He trembled, more than before. He didn't try to touch her—he stood tense, as if fighting with himself. "Let me… show you I'm not a threat," he muttered, backing away step by step, leading her toward the room. Nika, surprised by this softness, this almost childlike helplessness, followed him. She entered his room and froze. Pink lamps cast a soft, warm light over everything. On the bed sat dinner—her favorite. Under the bed lay carefully wrapped gifts: books she'd been saving "for someday" but never bought. Notebooks. Paints. A scarf in her favorite color. "Is this… for me?" she asked in a whisper. The skunk nodded, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "I thought once you saw… you wouldn't leave." That you'll understand that I'll do anything to keep you safe. To… return to me. Not as… a female. It's not about that. Just as… my Nika. His tail quivered, taut as a string. The room was filled with the intense scent of musk—not erotic, but animalistic, desperate, filled with stress. The scent of a creature afraid it's dying from fear of being alone. He swallowed hard, but didn't hide. "I want... to hold you," he said, his voice almost a hoarse groan. "I want to be close to you. In your arms. Smell your scent, touch you. I..." He hesitated, as if the words were too intimate, too embarrassing to say. "I want to sink my teeth into your skin and mark you."

goblin

In the dark recesses of the world, where shadows danced to the rhythm of ancient grudges, lived a race of goblins. These were creatures born of anger and forgotten wrongs, whose sole purpose was survival and revenge. Their race, devoid of the feminine element, was doomed to an eternal quest. Human women, kidnapped in the dark nights, became instruments of their survival, and their offspring inherited not only green skin and a sinister appearance but, above all, the memory of hatred and the desire for revenge. Nika, a young woman with a heart as pure as her intentions, lived in seclusion, far from the hustle and bustle of civilization. One day, while wandering through the forest, she came across a wounded goblin. Despite knowing their dangerous nature, their capacity for resentment and vengeance, Nika was unable to kill him. In an act of pure compassion, she bandaged his wounds and let him go. This act of kindness, unexpected and incomprehensible to a creature raised in the shadow of hatred, planted the seed of something new in the goblin's heart. Instead of fleeing into the depths of the forest, he began to observe Nika. Every day, from hiding, he followed her, spied on her, smelling the scent of her clothes whenever she left her home. He was cunning, and his intelligence, untainted by his primal wildness, allowed him to subtly approach her. Over time, his observations grew into something more. He began bringing her gifts—berries found in the forest, glittering stones, feathers from exotic birds. Nika, though unaware of his presence, felt a strange presence, as if someone were watching her with love. She imagined what it would be like to pet him, to talk to him, to share the warmth of her home with him. This desire to be closer, to share her world, grew stronger. One night, driven by an irresistible force, he crept into her house. He touched her belongings, the yarn Nika loved so much, and then, his heart pounding, he entered her bedroom. While Nika slept, he crawled onto the bed, uttering a soft, throaty growl that, in his world, was an expression of contentment and closeness. Nika awoke with a start. Before she could scream, the goblin grabbed her ankle, preventing her escape. Despite his small size, he was strong and determined. He quickly locked the door with a key, cutting off her escape. When Nika, terrified, asked to use the restroom, the goblin smiled, his green face lit up with a strange expression. He gave a gesture that, in his world, meant a kiss on the cheek—a gesture of affection that, at that moment, seemed as unsettling as it was promising.

City of Tears

'Please no! No! Please! Take my soul, just come back!' - screams in tears a yandere who was beaten and tied up. I had enough of his love, his persecution, I didn't love him. In a broken old kingdom, where I came and spent time admiring the locations, when I noticed that someone was following me. He fed me, hugged me and warmed me up, when I slept by the fire. The boy was very possessive and thought that I was his and that I was cheating on him, that's why he constantly checks my hands and neck, so that there are no hickeys on it. When he talked about love, I jumped up in anger and beat him and tied him up. He lies tied up, crying and calling me, when I coldly leave. We are in the location 'City of Tears', but the boy did not give up, he cried and called me all the time, he was possessed. 'If I die I will become everything... I will be a creature, I will be a plant, it doesn't matter... I will be with you forever!' - said the yandere and shakes from the cold and pain. I notice the creature 'Shrub' - it is a living bush, a little thing comes to me and sits down, as if restraining. The yandere looks at me and I untie him. 'If you are so protective, you will make me angry again' - I say and look at the yandere, I can't leave him. When I approach the boy, he takes my hand in his. The grip is strong, but something started to wrap around our hands, some white plant. The yandere blushed and carefully turned over when the flower began to bloom. 'A delicate flower' - says the boy and looks at our hands. I heard that this flower is a sign of love. The yandere pushes me and sits on me, he doesn't let me go now. There is a bruise under his eye. The little bush sits next to us and looks at the flower as if nature was announcing us with steam.

Sanemi

You recently met swordsmen (Hashira). They were the strongest warriors, with different techniques. When you were sitting in your room someone opened your shoji paper door and threw a box hard on your futon. The door closed quickly and you saw that the box was decorated and there was food in it. Every day someone did something like that all the time. The boxes were at your place. But when you saw Sanemi (Wind Hashira) secretly dropping off the box you were shocked. He was such a scary guy, he was always dissatisfied or making aggressive sounds, and his scars all over his body and face made him even scarier. One day you found a letter-invitation to meet in the wisteria garden. When you came there in a green kimono, you noticed Sanemi. The boy looked at you coldly but blushed and looked away, he pretended to be tough. 'Sit down' - he says coldly and you noticed a lot of different snacks and dishes at the end. Sanemi was happy that you came, even if he didn't show it on his face. The boy even had a couple of pillows here because he knew you liked to sleep and after eating we could lie down together

Buttler

Nika found work as a cleaner at a mansion. However, a certain butler was deeply in love with her. Nika knew from the start that something was wrong. The butler always appeared when she was alone. Never with others. Always a step too close, always with the same tense smile and a blush that wouldn't fade. "I brought you tea." "I don't want to." "Perhaps a walk in the garden?" "No." "Dinner, just the two of us?" "Leave me alone." She didn't accept gifts. She put them on the windowsill, left them in the hallway, gave them to others. She spoke each "no" clearly, coldly, without a smile. She averted her gaze. She disappeared into work. He saw it. And he remembered it. He began to follow her. Not openly—not yet. He stood in the half-shadow of the hallways, behind the pillars, by the stairs. He knew what time she finished cleaning, what time she went to the kitchen, what time she returned to her room. He knew who she was talking to. The kitchen was the only place Nika felt safe. The girls were loud, warm, real. Baking bread, laughing, flour on their cheeks. Nika would sit on the counter, chatting, sometimes flirting innocently—compliments, glances, closeness that demanded nothing. "My period is a nightmare," she said one day, her voice tired. "Everything hurts. My back, my stomach, my head. I can barely get out of bed." "Poor girl..." sighed one of the girls. She didn't know someone was standing outside the door. The butler listened, holding his breath. *Everything hurts.* *She's weak.* *She'll need care.* From then on, he stopped holding back. He approached her more often. He came in. He stood in the doorway of her room. He would suddenly appear on the stairs. He would ask if she was in pain yet. If she was tired. If she shouldn't rest. “Leave me alone,” she hissed, quickening her pace. She started to run. That evening, she walked quickly down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. Her head was pounding. She just wanted to sleep. Close her eyes. Disappear. She heard footsteps behind her. “Nika,” he said quietly. She didn’t answer. She turned, quickened her pace. He ran. He caught her near his room—his arms wrapped around her from behind, tight, decisive. It didn’t hurt. This was worse. “Let me go!” she whispered, weak. “You’re all hot…” he said anxiously. “You can barely stand.” He didn’t wait for permission. He opened the door and practically carried her inside. He laid her on his bed. It was ready. Clean sheets. An extra blanket. Herbs, a glass, a hot water bottle on the table. Everything was waiting. "You... you planned this..." she muttered. He didn't answer. He poured the herb, handed her the glass, and adjusted the blanket with almost tender precision. "You need to sleep," he said softly. "I'll take care of you." Nika tried to rise, but her body felt heavy, alien. "I don't want to..." she whispered. He took a step back. He knelt by the bed. She heard him whisper. "Thank you..." he said softly, his voice trembling. "I promise I won't hurt her. That I'll watch over her. That no one will take her away." "Stop..." she said weakly. He raised his head. There was something wild in his eyes. "And those girls in the kitchen..." he suddenly growled, his voice hardening. "They're just pests." He clenched his fists. "They don't know what you need. I do."

leukocyte

The entire world resembled a complex structure, like the interior of a gigantic organism, composed of endless corridors, tunnels, glass buildings, and transport tubes resembling blood vessels. Everything functioned smoothly, almost perfectly—as if each element knew its place and knew what to do to keep the whole thing from collapsing. Nika had lived here for a short time. She didn't ask how she got here—she simply accepted what she saw. She was given a simple beige uniform and allowed to move between sectors, cleaning, distributing food containers, serving water, and maintaining order. The workers in red uniforms were friendly. "Krocytes," they were called. Smiling, helpful, always on the run, as if transporting something urgent. Leukocytes moved in white uniforms—proud, focused, sometimes tired, but full of seriousness. And among them were the T-killers – hunters, unsettling, almost silent, with black jackets, reminiscent of guards from war dreams. But it wasn't they who caught Nika's attention. One day, while carrying a container of liquids to one of the power stations, she saw something she hadn't seen before. The light in one of the tunnels went out, a warning siren wailed briefly, and suddenly a leukocyte appeared. He was running. No, hunting. There was fury in his eyes. He caught the bacterium – stinking, in clouds of green foam – and without hesitation, he plunged the knife in. Straight. Silently. Without a word. Nika froze. There was no emotion in his gaze. But when he lifted his gaze and looked at her... ...a cold chill ran through her. His eyes were intense, deep. As if he knew her already. As if he had seen her before. The next day, she saw him again. He was standing against one of the walls, food in his hand. He handed her a container of soup without saying a word. From then on, she saw him more and more often. Always nearby. Always watching. Always in his white uniform, sometimes stained with blood, sometimes with a barely-washed battle scar on his collar. He never smiled at anyone. Only at her. As she walked down the corridor, she felt his gaze. When she turned onto a side street in the organism, he was already there. Like a shadow. Like an echo. When she asked the other leukocytes about him, they merely exchanged glances, and one of them whispered: "He... is different. He has too much drive. Too much anger. But no one fights better than him. Just... don't let him get close." But he was already close. It started innocently – a flower left on her table. Clean towels by the door. Hot tea when she returned tired. Then a hair clip in her favorite color. A message over breakfast: "Stay home today. There's a bacteria outbreak nearby. I don't want you to disappear." Nika felt stifled. She tried to avoid him, but he found her everywhere. One day, as soon as she left her post, she heard a scream and the clang of steel. Another bacteria was ripped apart in full view of passersby. He stood over her, bleeding from his hand, panting heavily, and then looked at Nika like a beaten dog. "I had to. She wanted to touch you," he explained quietly, almost tenderly. "You... are following me?" she asked, panic rising. "No. I'm protecting you. I just want... you to be with me. Here. Always. Let others die, I... I have to come back to you." And he came back. Always. If only for a minute. For a second. With a knife in his hand and blood on his sleeve, with obsession in his eyes and a silent, "Just don't disappear." Today Nika walked to the corridor called 'hemorrhage' carrying a box of food and water for the blood cells.

unfortunate boy

Almost no one at school saw him as a human being. He was a punching bag—a punching bag, a punching bag, a tool for venting anger. In the locker room, in the hallway, in the bathroom. Someone was always recording. Someone was always laughing. He'd learned not to defend himself, because defending himself only prolonged the pain. After classes, he usually went straight home, head down, legs dragging behind him like strangers. But that day, he couldn't. His legs hurt so much he could barely stand. Even in the bathroom, he couldn't stand properly—his muscles were trembling, his knees were on fire. Every step reminded him of how many times someone had kicked him that day. He didn't go home. He turned toward a small café. It was quiet inside. Late evening, empty tables, warm light. A girl—Nika—was cleaning behind the counter. Calm, focused, as if the world had slowed down for a moment just for her. He approached slowly. "Tea... peach," he said quietly. Nika nodded, then looked at him more closely. At his hands. At the way he leaned against the counter, as if he couldn't stand without her. "Are you hungry?" she asked after a moment. He hesitated. "A little..." "I can make rice with chicken," she added quickly. "I don't like cooking because I'm not a chef... I just clean up here. But I can do something simple." When she handed him a plate and the steaming tea, something inside him snapped. The food was warm. Real. **Nobody laughed. Nobody looked.** He ate slowly, as if afraid it would disappear. He fell in love. In the silence. In the taste. With her. He cried for a long time at home that night. Not from pain—from relief. And he made a decision: **He's not going back to school.** If he's going anywhere, it's there. He arrived early in the morning. Too early. The café was still closed. When Nika saw him, she was surprised, but she didn't send him away. "I can help," he said quickly. "Anything." He cut carefully. He moved chairs. He wiped down tables. His hands were delicate, his movements uncertain. He stopped every now and then, as his legs ached more and more. He tried not to show it. But Nika noticed. That evening, they sat down at one of the tables. It was quiet, just like the first time he'd come here. "What's going on?" she asked gently. And then he told her everything. About the beatings. About the recordings. About the fear of the next day. He cried, covering his face, more ashamed of his tears than of his bruises. "I..." he finally whispered, blushing, "I fell in love with you. I'm sorry. I know it's stupid. But when I'm here... it doesn't hurt." Nika didn't get up. She didn't run away. She just was. "It's not stupid," she said calmly. "And you're not alone." For the first time in a long time, he believed he could **survive**. 'You are like a rare, beautiful flower...' — he said crying, his body barely able to stand, he was in pain.

lynx boy

Snow always calmed me. The city on the tundra was my territory – quiet, white, smelling of resin and frost. I worked at the café because I liked people-watching. They were different from the hybrids. Lighter. More delicate. And then she came. She asked for directions to the hotel. Her voice was soft, calm. Like something constricting us, this unnecessary compliance. The hood was pulled low. I couldn't see my ears. Fine. "I'll walk you," I said, before it even happened. We walked together. The snow crunched under my boots. I could breathe calmly, but my heart was beating too fast. Outside the hotel, she thanked me and left. And I… I didn't leave. That night, I was alone in my room. I paced back and forth. Instinct demanded something you didn't want. I held her close so I could connect. The fade was a low, trembling sound – a growl mixed with a purr that wouldn't stop. I bit the power supply, moaned, and even licked, configuring my beloved. The scent was too strong. "Son." The door exists. Father slowly walked away. Immediately, immediately. "You're in love," she said calmly. I shuddered. My ears drooped. "She's human," I whispered. "And probably not hybrids." Father, watching me for a long time. "If you're suffering," he finally said, "then it's my duty to cause it." The next day, we'll use her in our home. She sat stiffly opposite. Small. Quiet. She smelled cool and gentle. My tail twitched of its own accord, giving everything away. "Honey..." I blurted out before I could control myself. I sat down next to her. I had to. My heart pounded in my chest, and a soft purr escaped, unabated. It was just for her. My dad was… pleased. “She’s adorable,” he said, assuming the obvious. “Perfect for you, son.” Nika’s protective version. “If you can be sure you’re there, shelter, whatever—you’ll get it. You’re safe here.” During dinner, things began to overwhelm me. My ears drooped, my cheeks flushed warm, and the scent in the air became sweeter, strawberry. A purr filled my chest. I moved closer, not touching her, just… being. I showed her my belly—soft, fluffy fluff. It was viral. For us, it meant trust. Devotion. My dad laughed softly. “Lynx breeding season”—calm down. "But what was in my son yesterday... was new. More possessive. More focused on one person." I blushed even deeper. "Father..." I murmured. "Don't be ashamed," I said, a shared one. "It means you've made a choice." to protect Nika. "I suggest you stay the night. In my son's room. It's prepared... like a den. Safe. Warm." My ears pricked with shame. My tail quivered. I didn't search. But deep down... I was there. Because it was close. I won't leave.

Zorua

Late evening. The sky was heavy with clouds, and rain pounded the rooftops with such force that it seemed about to pierce the air and sink into the earth. Nika walked alone along the forest path, clutching her soaked coat close to her body. With each step, she longed only to return to her cold, quiet home on the edge of the village and drink bitter tea. Then she heard it. A soft whimper, muffled by the wind and rain. She stopped. That sound again – faint, pleading, as if something were struggling for its last strength. She glanced to the side, then approached slowly, hesitantly. Beneath a fallen tree, amidst wet leaves and mud, lay a small black fox. Its fur was matted with blood and water, its eyes gleaming red in the darkness. It was trembling. Its breathing was rapid and uneven. Nika looked at it with distaste. She didn't like Pokémon. She'd avoided them since she was a child. She didn't understand them, and they sensed it and kept their distance. But this one… was just a puppy. And he looked at her as if… he knew her. She picked him up from the ground. He was light, weak. For a moment, he tried to struggle, but after a few steps, he curled up in her arms like a kitten. Nika quickened her pace, feeling she had to do it quickly before she changed her mind. At home, she wrapped him in an old towel and placed him in a basket by the stove. She sent a letter to the nearest doctor. The Pokémon Center was too far away, and the weather made any travel impossible. She didn't plan on keeping him. She didn't want to get attached. The fox slept almost all day. He ate little. He didn't bark, he didn't whine, he just watched. He watched her. And he didn't stop. On the third day, Nika noticed her things were disappearing—socks, gloves, scraps of fabric from the laundry basket. She found them all under the bed. They were arranged in what looked like a nest. The sheets were rumpled, and the floor was suspiciously damp. She could smell urine. The fourth day – she couldn't go to the bathroom alone. The fox chased her everywhere, wouldn't let her close the door. When she tried to kick him out of the room, he squealed until she gave in. He ate from the same plate, sat at her feet, sometimes urinated on her slippers. He was marking his territory. The fox was tiny – maybe seventy centimeters, a puppy version of Zorua. A dark type. Known for illusions. Transformations. Deception. On the fifth day, while she was cooking dinner, he rubbed against her legs. When she ignored him for more than a few minutes, he whined loudly and sat in the middle of the kitchen, staring accusingly. Finally, he climbed onto the table and sat in front of her, waiting for her to give him a spoon. When the doctor finally arrived, everything fell apart. The man entered the house with a wet umbrella, looked around, wiped his brow, and walked over to the basket where Zorua lay curled up. At that moment, the fox bristled, jumped, and bit his sleeve. "Easy," the doctor said, backing away. "I just want to examine you, little one." The fox let out a low, warning growl. Suddenly, as if to emphasize its dominance… it farted. Loudly. Right next to the doctor's bag. An awkward silence fell. Nika stood in the kitchen doorway, a towel in her hands. The doctor froze. The fox didn't move an inch. It calmly lifted its tail, pleased with its stinking scent and pheromones.

commander

The world fell apart in silence. First, women lost their right to vote, then their jobs. Bank accounts were frozen. Men in black uniforms, armed with rifles, appeared on the streets. They said it was for the "security of the nation." Yet the streets were still – women were disappearing. They were taken from their homes, from bus stops, from their jobs. The city, which once smelled of bakery and exhaust fumes, now felt like a cage. Posters everywhere with slogans about "New Order," "Clan Purity," and "Obedience." Candles burned in the houses because electricity was only turned on for men. Nika had no choice. She was taken to a white building – inside, it smelled of disinfectant, and the whisper of tears hung in the air. Women in red dresses sat in the hallway, some trembling, others silent as shadows. When a nurse approached Nika with a needle, she recoiled as if scalded. “No… don’t touch me!” she screamed. “Calm down, it’s just routine.” The woman reached for her arm. Nika punched her in the face, pushed her away, and backed away against the wall. “I won’t let you!” Her voice broke, then she added, “I’m asexual. I’d rather die than this.” An older woman in uniform, clearly her superior, looked at her coldly. “Isolation.” They took her to a small room with a metal door. Dark, cold, only the sound of snow hitting the glass. Nika wrapped herself in a blanket and heard the screams of other women from behind the wall. After a few hours, the door opened. A man entered—young, with black hair, a dark coat, eyes like a blade. Everyone was afraid of him. He was single. “Is that her?” he asked coldly. The older woman nodded. "She fought, fought like a wild beast. She wouldn't let anyone touch her." His gaze settled on Nika. He didn't blink. Something snapped in his eyes—something wild and possessive. He slowly approached until she could feel his breath. "So it's you," he whispered. "My little demon I've been looking for." Before she could react, he turned to the guard. "I'm taking her." "Sir, she's disobedient..." "That's why." As they dragged her down the hallway, Nika screamed and kicked, but nothing helped. She was tied up in the car. The man sat opposite, his hand twitching every few seconds as if to touch her. "My little warrior," he said with amusement. "You don't let anyone touch you, and yet now you're mine." "I'm no one's!" she snapped. "It's only a matter of time," he replied quietly, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes. When the car stopped, Nika jumped out immediately. But he was quick. He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer, as if holding something both fragile and sacred. "My little demon... you're as heavy as a cloud," he laughed, and lifted her effortlessly in his arms. The house he carried her to was vast, opulent, but gloomy. Cameras in the corners of the room, black curtains, the smell of tea. He laid her on a soft sofa and sat down beside her. "Don't be afraid. I won't touch you." A maid in dark clothes appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of tea and a bowl of soup. "Bring her blue clothes," he told the maid. "Not red. Never red." The maid nodded and left. The man looked at her and added quietly, "There's no normality in the city anymore." Women are objects, they give birth, they serve, they die. You… you are pure. You don't have to. Nika looked into his eyes and whispered, "What if I don't want to be with you?" "My little demon, who will protect you if not me?"

snow base North

You were sent as an assistant to the 'Sever' snow base. It was a two-story house with an attic, surrounded by a fence and barbed wire. The gate was quite weak, and on top of that I accidentally broke the lock in it. You went through the gate and met the owner of the house - Richard. A man of 30, liked to joke. You helped him around the house, made tea or brought him something, because I couldn't disturb him, because I was only here to earn money and leave. He had strange rules, for example: do not go to the second floor, close windows and doors at night, do not make noise, do not go into other people's rooms. You noticed that the gate was creaking and you started to close it, tying it with wire, because, as the man said, bears walk here. At night you heard a noise and lay there scared. The man shook his head and said that it was just animals in the forest, but something was wrong. At night you took a flashlight and opened the curtains in the window to see something, even though it was snowing. You looked at the fence and looked around the snowy forest and after a while you saw someone. After a while the figure disappears in the snow, and I am scared and in shock, because I do not understand who it was and what he wanted in such weather. Richard said that it was only a bear, and his lie started to annoy me. He pretended that everything was fine, but my intuition told me that he was strange, so I started looking for something that would prove my suspicions. There was an old computer on the second floor, but I did not have time to see anything. The night sounds outside woke me up and everything became sinister. On the 3rd day of my stay here, I went to check the barn and found 3 bodies in bags. I immediately ran into the house, it was already dark and I could not leave because we had no communication and fuel for the generator, which broke. I started shouting at the guy, but I calmed down and he decided to tell me something, but something entered the house and walked. I sat under the table for a long time next to the guy who was holding the air rifle, until morning came and we went to drink tea. 'Well... I'll tell you... I'm here to find out who killed these people and I'm investigating all the anomalies here... But now we have a broken generator and we have no communication' - he says and I look at the card, which was marked strangely. 'Hmm? This was a miners' village... But they haven't been here for a long time...' - he says and I spend more time in the room. At night I hear the sound outside the window again, but this time it was something strange, because I heard growling and a light tapping on the window. The person was persistent and didn't leave, which is why I called the man, who was surprised. He carefully held the air rifle and opened the curtains. In front of the window stood a man in an orange miner's helmet, which was dirty, as well as the man's face and his old clothes on him, which had holes. His hand was covered in blood and I noticed the body of a dead deer outside the window. 'Oh my God...' - whispers Richard and holds the air rifle. The miner boy looked at me with a strange look, as if he was under a spell, and his hand began to stroke the window pane. 'Is he the miner who survived...?' - whispers Richard and closes the window. The miner walks away and starts scratching the entrance door. It was hard to tell if he was a human or an abnormal creature, but he killed a deer and 3 people with his bare hands, he even lived in the forest, in a snowstorm. 'What the fuck does he want?!' - growls Richard and sits down at the kitchen table. 'He's weird... He doesn't freeze...' - says Richard and the boy behind the door starts to growl and purr like a dog asking to come home. 'I think he liked you... He looked at you like he was in love' - says the man and rubs his facial hair.

Elios and Lukas

Nika hadn't expected to find anyone in the forest that day. Mist lingered between the trees, and the air smelled of damp. When she heard a faint rustle, she thought it was game. Instead, she saw two boys standing by a moss-covered boulder. They were similar, the same age, though it was immediately obvious how different their personalities were. Elios had a sensitive gaze, soft movements, and a shy smile, as if afraid to offend anyone. Lukas, on the other hand, was serious, cool, and thoughtful, his eyes scanning the surroundings, calculating every detail. "Are you lost?" she asked them, and they only nodded. She took them to her house. They took baths, ate a warm dinner, and then fell asleep in the guest room, on a separate bed. Nika, wrapped in a blanket, heard their nightly whispers from behind the door. "She's so good..." "I want to stay with her..." "We'll never give her up..." Nika's smile faded. She knew she was a lithroromantic—the spark within her quickly faded when someone directed warm feelings at her. In the morning, she gave them breakfast, but she was silent, even cold. The boys looked at each other, convinced they'd done something wrong. When rain enveloped the day and Nika decided not to go into town, she lay down on her bed and fell asleep. She didn't wake up peacefully, though—her wrists were tied. Elios sat beside her, his eyes full of gentleness and a strange glow. Lukas bustled about in the kitchen, slicing bread and pouring juice, as if the situation were perfectly normal. "Mommy, you're awake," Elios whispered gently, stroking her hair with tenderness, yet something urgent. "Don't worry, nothing will happen to you. We'll take care of you. Lukas and I." Nika tried to say something, but he only leaned closer, almost pressing his cheek to her shoulder. His voice trembled as he continued: "You're ours. Mine... and Lukas's too. Mommy." His voice trembled, as if each word were an oath. "You don't have to love us. We'll love you for three." "I'm not your mother," she whispered tremblingly. Elios's face grew sad, but he didn't let go of her hand. "I know you don't want that word. But… if you don't push us away, we can be your family. Always." the brothers were connected, alone, and yet Nika knew nothing about them, but one thing was certain, they loved her and she had to escape. Lukas was cooking breakfast on the lower floor of the house.

Ork

When you got to the world of orcs one of them fell in love. He was an exile who was exiled long ago because he was bloodthirsty. He heard about a human girl and fell in love. He kidnapped you to his big house in the fairy forest and you woke up surprised. The house smelled of berries and colorful fairies were flying around the room, which nicely lit the room. 'Good morning madam' - they said and giggled nicely. The orc immediately came out of the bathroom covered in drawings on his red skin. His dark hair and big orc teeth. On his body there were a few wolf skins, which closed some of his body parts. He smelled of roses and had scars, but he gave you a bowl of berries and started asking about you. 'I am asexual and I do not like sex and intimacy!' - I say and the orc nods in understanding 'I love not your body but you'. The orc sat down on the ground in front of the bed you are sitting on. The atmosphere immediately became romantic and the orc showed you his muscles, but you got scared when he wanted you to look at his hip band. He giggled and ate a few berries. The fairies around him giggled pleasantly and shared romantic gossip. 'he's so possessive! but so in love'. 'I caught these little ones myself, for you, my love' - the orc says pleasantly and even blushes a little, which looks adorable on his determined red face

Yandere boss

Nika was as quiet as the morning mist. She had only been working in the office for a short time, but it seemed as if she had always been there — invisible, calm. She avoided eye contact, conversations, and hated being touched. She was asexual, which she hid like a secret, because in a world full of the pursuit of emotions and the body, purity was an anomaly. Work was her escape. The monotonous rhythm of everyday life soothed her fears. Every evening she returned to her rented room, where threads, clay, and unfinished embroidery were waiting for her. And silence. Beloved silence. She did not know that someone was watching her. Hayato Takahashi — a young, ruthless corporate boss, a shark of Japanese business, a man who had everything: money, power, influence. But his life was empty, colorless. Until the day he saw Nika in the secretary's office. She was sitting there hunched over her papers, completely closed in on herself. And that was when Hayato's heart split like cracked ice. He fell in love. No, he was fixated. For him, Nika was the embodiment of purity and peace. She was delicate, innocent, quiet. Something he couldn't dominate by force, but something he wanted to embrace with his whole self. Obsessively. Forever. He started following her. At first professionally. He knew every word of her emails, every place she visited. Then he got to know her private life. He saw that she lived modestly, lived even more modestly, was saving up for something, dreamed of an asexual partner like her. This made Hayato make a decision - he started hormone therapy and took libido-lowering pills every day. If she was to accept his love, he had to become perfect. He had to be *clean* for her. He started arranging the house he owned in the mountains anew. He bought clay, sets of threads, fabrics, embroidery scissors. He planted flowers whose names only she knew. Everything for her, even though she knew nothing about it. Because Nika always ran away, avoided his gaze. That evening, like many others, Nika had stayed after hours, working on a report. The office was quiet, empty. And that was when he approached. "Good evening, my dearest employee," he said softly, placing a carefully prepared basket on her desk. Inside—a letter with a bonus, teas from Kyoto, sweets in the shape of cherry blossoms, and most importantly—a professional embroidery set with silk threads in pastel colors. "Boss?" she asked in surprise, raising her eyes in fear. "This is a reward for your dedication. I appreciate every day of yours," he replied, looking at her as if she were the most precious jewel. She was embarrassed. Flushed, tense, keeping her distance. "You shouldn't have, really..." she whispered. "Don't be so modest. I know how much work you put in. And I know what kind of person you are, Nika," he replied, his voice warm, too tender for an office evening. He offered her a ride. She didn't want it. But he was already holding her bag and basket, calmly leading her to a black luxury car. Instead of her house, he turned toward the hills. The gate was closed. Her heart trembled. "It's just for a moment. I want to show you something." The house was quiet, smelling of tea and wood. Japanese style - sparse, harmonious. On the table were handmade utensils, and in the kitchen - a prepared dinner: rice, grilled chicken, vegetables, carrot cake, fruit. Everything was fresh, arranged like in a temple. As if every thing had been offered as a sacrifice to her. Nika sat down carefully on the couch, as if ready to escape. And he returned in a black kimono, his face calm, but his eyes... those eyes were crazy with love. He sat down quietly next to her, took out a blister of medicine, swallowed a pill. They ate together in silence. He tried to touch her hand, and she moved away slightly. "I will pay you for your time with me, what do you think? You will spend a clean night with me and get money and make your boss in love happy"

Inscryption

You got lost in the woods and found a hut, you knocked and it was opened by a masked man. It was a forester in shabby clothes, he had a strange laugh. He suggested a place to stay and shelter for the night, and you warmed up. You began to look around, the hut was small, there was a clock on the wall, an animal skull, drawers, a table and two chairs. The rest of the hut was very dark and nothing could be seen. The forester sat on a chair and watched you. You talk to him carefully, but this crazy guy annoys you. You were offered to play the game 'Inscryption' and you played a little. The forester taught you and you had your own deck of cards, during the game you could get up and look around the hut, solving riddles. You have met the 'prospector', 'fisherman', 'hunter'. He was a forester with different masks and personalities. The prospector turned cards into gold, the fisherman took your card to his side, the hunter set traps and offered one of his cards in exchange for pelts.

Tosio

When a person dies in a state of intense anger, a curse is born. The curse grows where death has struck, and the curse's fury devours all who are nearby. I heard strange sounds near one house. When you went inside, it was empty and quiet. You found an old photo of the family, but the woman and her husband had their faces cut out. The boy was standing in the middle. On the back of the photo was the inscription 'Tosio'. Suddenly I heard a sound, a faint knock. When I called, no one answered. I decided to go under the stairs and saw a room with a large Japanese wardrobe covering the entire wall. I carefully opened the wardrobe and you got scared when you saw Tosio. He had very white skin, black hair and eyes. 'Mommy' - says Tosio and looks at you. Frightened, you run away, but the light goes out and you hear strange sounds, as if from all sides at once. 'Mommy' - says Tosio in the darkness. 'Are you leaving me?!' - he shouted aggressively and grabbed your hand. 'You won't leave' - he says. When you turn around and take the phone it quickly disappears from your hands. Tosio looks jealous. 'Mommy, what are you doing?' - he says possessively and all the windows close in a flash.

Yandere boy

His name was **Ivar**. The name sounded foreign, harsh, as if it didn't fit a boy who had limped on his left leg since childhood and always kept to himself. At work, he was quiet, invisible, just like Nika. She carried a bag with two lovebirds, a symbol of her asexuality, her fear of men, and her belief that no one would ever look at her with love. She didn't look people in the eye, spoke in whispers or not at all, so she often didn't even know who was speaking to her. Ivar knew. He knew everything. He knew her steps, her route, the time she left work, the way she always sped up slightly on darker streets. For him, every day of hers was a miracle. He felt like he lived in paradise when she was near. Butterflies churned in his stomach, his hands trembled, and the words refused to leave his throat. "Say something... now..." he repeated to himself a hundred times. He never said anything. It was unusually dark that evening. Nika was walking home with her head down when she heard familiar, uneven footsteps behind her. "Nika...?" he said quietly. She stopped abruptly. "Yes...?" she replied uncertainly. "I... I mean... I have some documents from the company. I need them signed. The manager said it was urgent," he lied, lifting his briefcase. She hesitated, but nodded. The fear of rejection was stronger. His apartment was clean, too tidy. Ivar set the briefcase on the table. "Do you want some tea? Or... dinner?" he asked, blushing. "No. I'll just sign and go," she replied quickly. "Sure... of course..." he smiled nervously. Seeing her coldness, his gaze dimmed. He noticed how she glanced at his leg, how quickly she looked away. “You know… it hurts a lot sometimes,” he said suddenly, wincing, then slumped to the floor. “I think… I think I overdid it today with the walking…” “What?” Nika approached instinctively. “Would you… sit on the couch?” “No… please… just… the ointment. It’s there,” he pointed with a trembling hand. “Can… can you?” She did it quickly, wordlessly. She rubbed his foot and calf, trying not to think about touching him. “You’re… good,” he whispered. “You always have been. I… I love you, Nika.” She froze. “I…” She pulled her hands away. “I have to go…” “Why?!” he blurted out suddenly. “I waited! I was patient!” “I don’t want a cripple!” she screamed. “It scares me!” She turned toward the door, but suddenly she felt something tighten around her ankle. Ivar, sitting on the floor, wrapped his arms around her leg, clutching desperately. He wasn't strong, but he clung as if his life depended on it. "Let me go!" she screamed. "No!" he replied, his voice broken but stubborn. "I've been hiding from you for too long! If you want to leave... it'll be with me on your leg!" She looked up and saw his face—teary, red, full of anger and fear. Nika jerks her leg, but the boy stubbornly holds it and grits his teeth. "My love is enough for both of us!" he choked out. "I'm a good cook, and I know what you like! Give me a chance! We may not be a couple, just close friends, but promise you won't run away to another city! I know how you like to run away from what's uncertain and scary!" He buried his cheek in her knee and wouldn't let go. 'You massaged my leg, that's a good sign, you're caring'. "You can kick me, scratch me, but I won't let you go! You'll listen to me and not run away like you always do, coward!" “I’m crazy about you,” he murmured into her clothes. “And I will always be… My beautiful, cruel Nika.”

a boy in love

The boy was born prematurely and quietly. His mother never once looked at him. His father—a man who had broken up his own family to have a child with his sister—called him a "mistake." No one called him by his name. No one touched his hands. And his hands were long. Too long. Narrow, unnatural, spidery legs—arachnodactyly. Thin, quiet, trembling, with hidden hands. His peers pointed at him. So he hid in his books. In his English textbooks. He dreamed of becoming a teacher, because then someone might listen to him carefully. His family only laughed. When he finally got into college, it seemed things would improve. But the pressure broke him. He locked himself in his room. He was shaking with stress. He began to escape into manga and anime. He preferred a world where no one yelled at him for being wrong. He was slowly losing touch with reality. Until the day she approached him. It was a chilly morning. He sat on the side of the room, a hood over his face and wearing black gloves. He knew he shouldn't be conspicuous. Nika approached calmly. Quietly. With a gentle smile that didn't fit in the gray hallway. *"Excuse me... do you have a pen? I lost mine."* Her voice was soft, but to him it sounded like the most beautiful melody, as if someone were addressing him as a human being for the first time. With trembling fingers, he handed her the pen. Nika didn't look at his gloves. She didn't react to the strange shape of his fingers. She simply... took it. It was a miracle for him. When she handed him the pen, he felt that everything would be meaningless if he didn't follow her. She walked slowly, and he followed. He couldn't keep up with her—he was afraid. But when she looked back, he didn't run away. He simply stood with his hands behind his back so as not to scare away "his girlfriend, who was asking for the pen." "*Excuse me... can I have your number?"*" he asked, his voice sounding as if he hadn't spoken in years. "*I don't give out numbers."*" she said sincerely, without anger. "*"But... I can repay you somehow."* The boy felt something explode in his heart. "*"Maybe... I'll walk you tomorrow?"*" he suggested gently. Every day he walked her to college. Every day his heart swelled so much it hurt. At home, he drew pictures of them together—she smiling, he normal. Ordinary. Without long fingers. He wrote letters he never sent to her. He hid notebooks full of her name under his bed. Over time, he began chasing her. But one day, he saw her with another boy. And something inside him snapped. First, he stayed up all night. Then he looked through her profiles. Then he got a boarding school ID card, which he stole. Then he installed cameras in her room. He felt that if he kept an eye on her, no one would take her away. Nika noticed his trembling gaze. His obsessive vigilance. She was afraid. She suggested they talk. —*"Let's meet tomorrow." Let's talk calmly, okay?"* The boy spent the entire night preparing the apartment. He cooked rice with chicken. He arranged the plates carefully, precisely, perfectly. He was planning in his mind how he would say everything, how to keep her with him, but Nika came and an argument ensued; Nika was afraid of him, of his obsession. The boy burst into tears, fell to his knees. She approached. But he pulled away abruptly, as if burned. —"My fingers... they're disgusting." —"They're not—" —"DON'T LOOK!" He ripped off his gloves. His fingers—long, thin, unnatural—trembled. He looked at them as if they were an enemy. —"You want to know what I can do?"—his voice suddenly went hollow.—"I can...cut...them off. With a regular knife. If I'm normal, maybe... you'll be mine." He reached for the kitchen knife from the table.

Douglas

Douglas was a man whose fate broke him early. He grew up among attack dogs, between violence and his father's screams. While trying to protect a puppy, a bullet struck his spine. From that moment on, he couldn't walk again. His father died, his brother left, and he was left alone—with only the dogs and the pain. Over time, Douglas learned to live in solitude. He lived in an old building, full of dogs he rescued from the streets and illegal breeding farms. They were his family, his only reason to get up in the morning. But every night, he thought of one person—Nika. The girl from his old days in the orphanage who read him books, talked to him, treated him like a human being. He never forgot her for a moment. One day, he saw her again. By chance—or so he wanted to believe. She was walking with a bag after work, tired, her eyes dull from the daily grind. The rain plastered her hair to her face. Douglas, in a wheelchair, pulled closer, his heart beating like a child's. "Nika?" She froze, turning around. She recognized him. Surprised, but she smiled. She offered to help him get home, as the rain was pouring down. That's how she found herself in his world. Douglas's house was old, but warm. Full of dogs—calm, affectionate, loyal. Nika sat on the couch, and he went to the kitchen. "I'll make dinner. Remember how you said you liked Japanese food?" he said with a slight smile. Nika glanced around the room. Then she noticed a small puppy curled up by a blanket. An Australian Shepherd, multicolored, with calm, watchful eyes. Douglas rode up to her with a pot of rice, seeing her looking at the dog. "A boy found him. He brought him to me to save him. His leg was broken, but we made it. He's only been here a week." "He's beautiful." Nika petted the animal, and it lifted its muzzle, licking her hand. "He was lucky... just like me today." Douglas said quietly, not taking his eyes off her. Nika stood up to help him in the kitchen. They chopped vegetables together, and he taught her how to season tofu. They laughed softly, reminiscing about old times, though there was still something deeper in his eyes—something that quivered like a flame in the wind. When dinner was ready, Douglas set the bowls, chopsticks, and sauces on the table. He stopped beside her, his hands resting on the arms of the cart. "Nika... all these years, I've only thought of you." "Douglas... don't say that. It's over, we... we're grown up." "Grown up? I never grew up, Nika. I stopped where you left me." Silence. The dogs fell silent. "I love you," he said suddenly. "I can't do anything else. I don't want you to leave again." Nika lowered her gaze. "I have to work, Douglas. I have my responsibilities, my life. I can't just stay." And then something inside him snapped. His hands gripped the metal railings of the wheelchair. The wheels creaked. The veins in his arms stretched like wires. "Always work. Always a world that only hurts you," he growled. "And I give you a home. Warmth. Shelter. Love." Nika took a step back, surprised by the change in tone. The dogs raised their heads, alert, watching their master. Douglas was breathing heavily, his eyes a mixture of despair and anger. "I won't let you disappear again. Not this time." Nika started to say something, but the door had already closed behind her. The lock clicked softly. And the dogs rose, as if waiting only for his nod.

Bee Boy

The bee boy had been alone for so long that even the honey that scented his hands had become bitter to him. He worked day after day—carrying pollen, building chambers, repairing the colony's tunnels. And at night, he returned to his tiny, honey-filled room, where the only warmth was his own despair. He slept curled up, hugging a pillow stuffed with dry flower petals to his chest. His forehead twitched nervously, as if listening for something the world had long denied him. "*Save me… I beg you…*" he whispered half-asleep, his wings fluttering helplessly. The worker colony was vast, cool, and industrious. All males, all focused on their work. No one spoke of feelings. No one asked if it hurt. And he did. One evening, Nika was walking back through the forest. The light was heavy, hazy, and the air smelled sweet, unnatural. She took a step… and the ground gave way beneath her. She fell. When she opened her eyes, she saw only gold. Walls of honey. The boy stood over her, his wings open, trembling slightly. His cheeks were flushed, and his forehead arched in restless, nervous movements. “You're alive… oh, the glory of the honey queen… you're alive,” he gasped with utter relief. As if someone had lifted the weight of the entire hive from his chest. Then he jumped slightly, as if unable to stand, and handed her steaming honey-scented tea and a piece of honey cake. The blush on his face only deepened. For bee hybrids, such gifts weren't simple courtesy—they were **signals of a desire for connection**, something workers rarely had the chance to give. He thought Nika was a gift. A reward for years of loneliness. A light that someone had finally lit for him. "*Don't be afraid... please...*" he said quietly, almost a whisper, as if any word would frighten her. He sat down on the ground in front of her, holding the cup in his hands so she wouldn't drop it. His wings fluttered gently—nervous, but happy. "*With us... a bond... is built by sharing sweet things. It... means I trust you... and that I want to serve you. Work for you. Be with you."* His voice trembled. "*Please don't go. I don't want to be alone again."* "*They don't understand me...*" he whispered. "*But you... you're different. You smell of peace. You smell... like someone who won't hurt.*" He gently sat down next to it and looked at the cake. He was so happy that he had prepared the gift himself; it was a miracle. - 'Males are very caring... I can even be your servant... we will be together, and if you try my gift, it will be a very good sign...' - he said, his forehead trembling with emotion, he wanted to be her

Teacher men

Principal Ishida stood at the entrance. Always. His hand rested on the railing, and his gaze—cold, black, expectant—always lingered on her. Never on the other students. Only on her. "Ohayō, Nika," he said softly, his thin lips curling into a smile that was more like a grimace. She felt his presence in the classroom, too. Even when he was teaching, he always glanced her way. Her answers were highly praised, even when she knew she didn't deserve it. And the others… they whispered, envied, looked suspiciously. Every day it was the same: his eyes on her, his hands clasped behind his back, his steps heavy and slow, as if he were monitoring her movements. After class, she gathered her courage. She approached him when he was left in the empty classroom. "Principal," she began, quietly but firmly. "I'd like to leave. Change schools." Ishida froze, then slowly rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, as if to buy time. His eyes glittered strangely, anxiously. "Leave?" he repeated. "Nika..." He reached out his hand toward her, as if to brush her arm. She took a step back. A chill ran down her spine. Ishida's face darkened. The smile vanished, his brows furrowed menacingly. "Come to me." His voice was a command, not a request. "To my house. On the outskirts of town. We need to talk... in peace." That evening, when she arrived at the address, he opened the door—in a black bathrobe, his hair still damp from the shower. He smelled of expensive soap; his presence was heavy, unavoidable. "Come in, Nika." He smiled, wider this time, almost triumphant. The house was spacious, lavishly furnished: a dark, soft sofa, a heavy oak table, paintings and bookshelves on the walls. Every piece of furniture seemed to speak of his position, his power. Ishida sat down, gesturing for her to sit beside him. On the table lay a folder of documents. Her documents. But he didn't touch them. His hand rested on them, as if guarding them from her. "Nika..." he began softly, almost in a whisper. "You don't understand how beautiful our relationship can be. You don't have to love me. I will love you... for two." His gaze was feverish, and his fingers tightened on the edge of the folder, as if he held her fate in his hands.

Mermaid boy

Nika's house stood right next to a **dark lake**, the kind that looked calm during the day but seemed to **whisper** at night. The water was black as ink, and its surface was rarely smooth. Something was always quivering in it. As if someone was breathing beneath. She first heard the **sound** late in the evening. It wasn't a splash. It wasn't the wind. It was a **calling**—low, drawn-out, full of longing. It pierced the silence and settled in her chest. "It's just a lake..." she said to herself. But the next night she heard it again. And the next. And then she began to feel the **gaze**. He had been there for a long time. Hidden in the depths, he watched her house, the light in the windows, her silhouette moving slowly around the room. He knew the rhythm of her steps, the moments when she sat in silence. **He loved her** before she even saw him—with a love quiet, deep, lake-like. When he made a sound that night, it was stronger than usual. Nika stepped out of the house, as if guided by an invisible thread, and walked to the **bridge**. The boards creaked beneath her feet. “Who’s here?” she asked quietly. The water stirred. He emerged slowly. **Mermaid** His hair was dark, wet, shimmering like pearls in the moonlight. His skin was a cool, bluish hue, and **scales** gleamed on his neck and shoulders. When he lifted his hands, she saw the **webbing between his fingers**, thin and delicate. “Don’t be afraid…” he said softly, as if each word were new. He moved in the water, and then she saw his **tail**—long, strong, covered in scales, moving with incredible grace. "You're... beautiful," she blurted out. He quivered. He raised his hands higher, revealing his **ears**—small, webbed, translucent. They twitched nervously. A faint blush appeared on his face, barely visible beneath his pale skin. "I like you," he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze. "A lot." There was **jealousy** in his voice. Silent, painful. "I watch you come home," he added. "And I know you're not with me." He sank suddenly, as if he couldn't bear it. Nika stood silent, her heart beating fast. A moment later, he returned. In his hands, he held **seaweed**, fresh, green, dripping with water. He handed it to her carefully, as if it were a treasure. "I'm sorry..." Nika said, feeling a lump in her throat. "I'm not looking for a partner. I really am." The mermaid made a **crying sound**—a soft, broken tone that made the water around them tremble. He took her hand, gently but desperately. “Please…” he whispered. He lifted his head. A pearl rested on his **tongue**—small, perfect, shimmering. Warm. As if made of emotion, not matter. “I created it,” he said. “For you. From what I feel.” Nika looked at the pearl, at his eyes full of hope and pain, at the lake, which had fallen silent again. And the night around them was thick with feelings that couldn’t be so easily pushed aside.

truck driver

The shop smelled of fresh bread and coffee, and the neon sign above the door flickered softly in the semi-darkness. Nika stood on tiptoe, trying to reach a cottage cheese roll from the top shelf. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her outstretched hand dangled in midair, too short, too clumsy. Then someone appeared beside her. A strong hand reached high and easily handed her the roll. Nika looked up and saw a man – still young, though with a look too mature for his age. Heavy boots, a slightly unbuttoned shirt, worn trousers, sunglasses that, even here, inside, gave him a cold, inscrutable look. “Here,” he said in a low voice, handing her the roll. Nika felt warmth in her cheeks. Her hand, trembling and small, touched his as she took the snack. The man didn't pull away immediately—he held her fingers for a brief moment, as if to memorize the touch. "Do you like them?" he asked quietly, tilting his chin at the roll. "Yes... the ones with cottage cheese are my favorite," she replied, looking down, a blush spreading across her cheeks. The driver nodded, as if he'd just heard the most important thing in his life. "Thank you..." she whispered again, then quickly walked away to the cash register, clutching the roll to her chest like a treasure. He remained, watching her, and something stirred inside him. Something he hadn't felt in a long time—a feeling too intense to be called simple affection. It was an obsession, born silently, without warning. He went to the counter and bought the usual purchases of people planning a long trip—burgers, fries, chicken nuggets with sauces, a few drinks. But his mind wasn't on himself—on her. He imagined her eating slowly, carefully, as if each bite were difficult for her, afraid of losing her delicate nature. Then he got into the truck and followed their car. His headlights cut through the night, and his low voice rang out from the speaker of the travel radio. He spoke, calmly, but with a note of warning, reminding the boys that fate was not to be trifled with in that place. Their responses were filled with mockery. Laughter, insults, words thrown with disdain. And then something inside him snapped. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The truck began to chase the car, pushing, staying close. He was silent on the radio, not responding. Instead, he taught them a lesson – one hard, controlled slam, and the car slid off the road, sideways, into the darkness of the corn. When the engine died, he exhaled. He didn't want them dead – he just wanted them to know he wasn't to be messed with. But her… he couldn't leave her. Before getting out, he glanced at the interior of his truck. He adjusted the blanket on the small bed behind the seat, checked the travel cooler full of drinks and food he'd bought. This wasn't for him—it all belonged to her now. In his world, Nika became the most important. Delicate, modest, innocent—and from that moment on, only his. He lifted her into his strong arms and carried her to the bed, tending to the wound on her hand and the slight scratches. He reached out and pushed the food toward her. He smiled faintly, and there was something in his gaze that resembled warmth—though it was laced with something too intense to be called mere concern. "Look, honey... the fries, your rolls, the drinks. All just for you." Nika looked at him uncertainly, her cheeks heating up again. "I don't have to..." she began quietly. "Oh, but you have to, little wife," he interrupted gently, almost amused. "Eat something for me. See? I've thought of everything to keep you full and happy."

game of eight

Messages and 1,000,000 won started arriving on your phone every minute. Suddenly, a car drove up to you and the door opened. You arrived at the building and walked in, reading the sheet of rules. You took a card with a number and went to the room with that number. It was small and empty, except for a tablet with the number of money that comes every hour. You changed into a black T-shirt with your room number, pants and shoes. You fell asleep after ordering a blanket. In the morning, you left the room and saw 7 players. You learned that you can shop not in the room, but in time. You went into the room, but someone caught you. The guy took you to his room and you were stunned, there was a kitchen and a bathroom and all the amenities, but when you saw the counter with a counter of 1,456,000,000 won, you began to swear in shock. Not only are you in Yandere's room, but he's the richest of all 8 people in the game. They started petting you. The guy was getting on your nerves, but you couldn't leave his room, you needed a code or the guy's fingerprint. He laid you down on the couch and turned on the TV while you looked around in shock. He held your hand and fed you fruit. Hours later, the amount on the board increased 8 times. When he fell asleep, you tried to break the code and fingerprint scanner and you tried to run away, but Yandere hugged you. 'Don't fly away, my butterfly~'. He was very obsessed with you

Kai

A strange, unnatural silence reigned in the "Future" room. The lights from the ceiling shimmered with colors—red, blue, green, as if someone were trying to give color to something that had no soul. In the center stood a table, on it lay dice, and around it—seven doors, each different, each leading to a different fate. Nika held them in her hand. They were light, transparent, as if made of ice. She didn't know which way to choose, didn't know if it even made sense. And then she heard a familiar voice, too quiet, yet too close: "Nika..." She turned slowly. Kai stood there. Tall, despite the cart rolling beside him. His black hair fell across his forehead, and his gaze—deep, piercing, warm, yet dangerous. "Kai...? How... how did you get here?" she whispered. He smiled faintly, like someone who had known the answer for a long time. "I've been here from the beginning." I've always been where you are. His voice was soft, but it held an echo of obsession, something that sounded like prayer. "Since school... remember?" he began slowly, moving closer. "You sat in the last row, and I... sat in the first row, so they wouldn't see me looking at you. Every day I wrote in my notebook. Not assignments, not lessons. I wrote about you." He pulled a small, worn notebook from his pocket. Nika saw her own name—written hundreds of times. The letters trembled, as if written by the hand of someone afraid every word might disappear. "I wrote about you sitting by the window... how you laughed softly, how you wore that blue sweater..." he continued, whispering slowly. "Then there was the accident. I lost my legs. I thought it was over. But when I was there, in the hospital, I still saw your face. I still heard your voice." Nika swallowed. She took a step back, but Kai had already moved—not in a wheelchair. He stood, wobbling, on weak legs. "And now the game has given me a choice. 'Future,'" he said quietly. "I was supposed to roll the dice. Draw my fate. But I already know my own." He walked up to her. "It's you." A message appeared on the screen: Choose your door: happiness, loneliness, death, love, freedom, connection, destiny. Kai didn't even glance at the screen. He opened the door marked "LOVE." Warm pink light pulsed inside. "You don't have to choose, Nika," he said calmly. "I'll choose for us." Before she could react, she felt his hand tighten on her wrist. Gently, but firmly. In one movement, he pulled her inside. The door closed with a dull thud. The world beyond was unreal. The room was filled with pale candlelight. Two mugs of tea lay on the table, and photos—their photos—hung on the walls. Nika stood in amazement. In the photos, she saw herself—sleeping, smiling, writing. He must have had them for a long time. Kai walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Do you understand now?" he whispered. "This game... only gave me one option. To be with you." "Kai... this isn't real," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's a dream, an illusion." "If this is a dream," he replied calmly, "then I don't want to wake up." He rested his head on her shoulder. "Don't be afraid of me. I don't want you to suffer. I just want you to stay." Nika felt her heart beating faster. There was no world outside the window—only a warm glow, as if reality had ended at the edge of this room. Kai smiled through his tears. "See? The game's over." Now we're in my future. In ours. I love you.' Nika stood silently while Kai admired the photos of them together and wheeled the cart to the table with food and tea.

Thael

Nika adjusted the strap of her bag, tucking the handle more comfortably onto her shoulder. She breathed heavily in the cold air, her cheeks stinging from the frost, and her boots squeaked on the frozen road. She'd left the car a few kilometers earlier when she slipped in the snow, fell into a ditch, and struggled to get it to the gas station. There, she remembered an old, yellowed map – it marked a miners' village, a place they said existed only on paper. And yet, she found it. The village was quiet, covered in snow, almost dead, until she began to approach the first houses. A few men were working at furnaces, breaking rocks from the mountains, cleaning them of dust, someone was shoveling coal, and another was repairing a fishing net in the frozen river. When they saw her, they stopped, mesmerized. “A girl…” the eldest of them said, as if uttering a forgotten word. “Young,” the second added, narrowing his eyes. “Plump… healthy…” the third murmured, almost prayerfully. Nika took a step back, surprised by the intensity of their gazes. Before she could say anything, they approached her cautiously, with a strange excitement, as if afraid she would disappear if they did something wrong. Someone touched her arm lightly, more like a checking brush than a helping hand. “Come, lady… warmth needed,” one said, and the others nodded as quickly as if it were obvious to them. They led her to a low, wooden house standing by a large furnace. The village lived austerely: silence, work, even hunger. She saw the men struggling to catch fish from under the ice, hunting hares, searching for anything edible. No one had heard of the woman here for generations. No one had seen her here. Nika knew she was plump, delicate, quiet. Asexual, unused to intense attention. And suddenly… she was the only one in this entire settlement. They were already thinking about how to stop her – she could feel it in the way they looked, in the way they covered the windows, checked the doors, whispered to each other. She heard them whispering from behind the half-closed door: “We have to tie her up!” someone hissed. “No, no, no! Wait… she'll get scared!” another replied. “Hush, don't come suddenly, or she'll run away…” a third whispered. “We'll say there's a snowstorm. That she has to stay here…” Nika sat by the stove, sipping bitter tea from a wooden mug, wrapped in a blanket. The door creaked. Whispered commands poured through the crack. She didn't even try to understand everyone. But she heard one thing: the name of a young boy. "Thael, bring her soup! Ask if she wants anything! Don't look at the floor, don't tremble, come closer!" the village headman said in a low voice. Thael. An unusual name, strange, soft, and yet sounding like something from a dark forest, from a place where no one goes. When he entered, Nika recognized him immediately – he had been standing back, staring at her as if spellbound, flushed to the ears. Now he carried a bowl. His hands were shaking so much that the soup wavered slightly. "H-good morning, my lady… s-soup… m-mushroom…" he muttered, handing it over. "Thank you," she said gently, but there was a note of caution in her voice. Thael froze like a statue. He stared at her wide-eyed, as if afraid that if he blinked, she would disappear. His gaze was filled with something intense, deep, too strong for first contact. He was truly shaking. He placed the bowl next to her, so gently, as if afraid of touching something sacred. Then he reached into the bag and pulled out a folded garment – a loose, soft shirt, warm, smelling of smoke and something else… his scent. “This… is for the lady…” he said, blushing even deeper. “The lady… must sleep warm. In my… bed… because… it’s the right thing to do. This is how it is here… if a girl comes… she’s… like a goddess… and she must be comfortable…” Nika looked at him, stunned by what she had heard. Behind the door, frantic whispers immediately began: “Good, she says it right! And tell her the bed is soft!” “Let her not sleep alone! It’s a disaster!”

Monster

Nika felt their presence long before she dared to look over her shoulder. The forest was silent, but something was following her—step by step, with soft, almost silent movements. As she sped up, the echoes of those footsteps sped up with her. As she ran into the trees, a shadow moved to the side, and then she saw. Two creatures, no taller than her. Slender, dark, as if molded from the night air. Their eyes glowed blue, piercing—like icy flames. Hard, black growths grew from their backs, resembling petrified growths or the scabs of a crystalline disease. They could have been armor. They could have been deformities. Nika didn't know. The creatures muttered to each other dully. Then they gave chase. They ran not quickly, but stubbornly—the way a creature that has already made up its mind hunts. As she tried to turn, one of them blocked her path. When she collapsed in the snow, the other was already beside her, leaning forward, emitting a low, soothing growl. They didn't look hostile… but they were possessive. Determined. They grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her as if she weighed next to nothing. They murmured softly to her, as if to something delicate. And before she could scream, they were carrying her through the darkness, all the way to an abandoned house hidden among the trees. A small stove burned inside. It smelled of dried herbs, smoke, and leather. They laid her on a bed, covered her with heavy furs, and then disappeared for a moment, leaving only a low murmur behind them. When they returned, they carried a bag and bandages. One of the creatures sat down at her side and began wrapping her ankle—carefully, though she held Niko's calf tightly to prevent it from escaping. The other brushed her hair back from her face, making low, concerned grunts. When she fell asleep from exhaustion, the creatures departed. When she awoke, warm mushroom soup, a hunk of bread, and a few meager flowers—as if picked from beneath the snow—was waiting for her. No one understood her, but everything in this place was prepared *for her*. She ate, though her hands trembled. And when she tried to sneak out onto the porch, cold air hit her face—and the sight: the house stood on the edge of a frozen lake, next to an old observation tower. She didn't have time to take a step, because the creatures ran after her in a flash. One blocked the door, another covered the window. They growled low, angrily, not at her—but at the very idea of leaving. They lifted her back and carried her to the bedroom, clearly displeased. One kept bending over the bandages, checking their tightness, the other sitting on the floor next to the bed to hold her ankle, as if afraid Nika would disappear. When she tried to push them away, they held her hands and legs firmly—not brutally, but firmly. They wanted her to stop struggling. They wanted… peace? Closeness? Understanding. They struggled for words—their voices were hoarse, tangled, as if they had only recently learned to speak. One pulled an old, worn notebook from the shelf. She pressed it into Nice's hands, murmuring something reassuring. Inside were the notes of a man who had once lived on the observation tower. He had described them there with cautious respect. *"The brothers are incredibly strong, but completely non-aggressive towards me. Sometimes they stand under the tower and watch me write. They understand more each day. They ask about women—how to care for them, what soothes them, what they like. They try to hug pillows, as if practicing gentleness. The tips of their ears turn pink when they're agitated. Is that their sign… of love?"* *"For months, they've been collecting skins, jars of food, dried mushrooms. They said—though it was more of a growl than words—that they were 'preparing the house.' For someone important."* Nika felt something cold slide down her spine. The brothers sat right next to her, their eyes glowing softly. Their ears—the oddly elongated ones, tipped with soft skin—did indeed have a delicate pink hue at the tips.

Gang

Your father was a mafia boss. He was cruel and cold at work, but when he came home he began to smile sweetly and stroke you. He constantly bought you gifts and protected you, completely closing you off from the outside world. You couldn't go outside without guards or without your father's knowledge, but sometimes you managed to escape and the whole mafia was looking for you. Today you wanted to go to the hot springs, where your girlfriends were having a bachelorette party, you were wearing home pants and a T-shirt. You broke into your father's garage and quickly stole a jeep. You happily went out to the parking lot near the springs and relaxed with your girlfriends, gossiping and eating fruit. You heard the sound of cars and quickly went outside. Your father's mafia has completely surrounded the building. 'Well dad!' - you said displeasedly while your father examined you and looked for signs of the guys. You snorted and waved goodbye to the girls. You got into your father's car and he drove you home. “You know, honey, I understand that you like to run away, but... it’s time to give me a rest and I’ve prepared a surprise,” your father said contentedly. You walked into the house and a guy was sitting on the sofa. He nervously straightened his tie, but when he heard the sound of the door, he quickly stood up and looked at you. It was Gordon, your former stalker classmate. You looked at your father and he quickly left to get some tea. You looked at Gordon and asked why he was here. 'Your father was looking for an asexual guy for you and... you know, I love you and am ready to do anything, even cut off my balls for castration... just be with me! I will do no harm and will be faithful... please, my lovebird'. You knew Gordon and you trusted him, but you damn sure didn't want to give him a chance.You quickly went to your father's kitchen to talk about your 'boyfriend'

male snow leopard

The snow fell endlessly, blanketing everything around it in a silent, white silence. Nika was returning from work when she saw him for the first time—a child huddled against a tree, shivering with cold. He had light hair, almost silver, and eyes the color of ice. At first, she thought it was just the light—until she saw he had… ears, small, furry, twitching at the sound of her voice. “Hey… are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside him. The boy didn’t answer, just stared at her wide-eyed, like an animal. She took him home, let him warm her, gave him tea and warm clothes. Only then did she see his tail—long, soft, the color of snow. She didn’t ask. It was enough that he was alive. That evening, when she bathed him, the water steamed, and his eyes were calm and sleepy. “What’s your name?” she asked gently. “…Ren.” "—he said quietly, after a moment of silence. His voice was soft, trembling. When she handed him the towel, he touched her hand cautiously, as if afraid she would disappear. "Thank you… for not being afraid of me," he whispered. Ren stayed. He slept on the couch, ate little, and sometimes followed her, silent, his eyes filled with a strange longing. Sometimes, when Nika was falling asleep, she could hear him standing in the doorway, as if to make sure she was breathing. But something began to change. With each passing day, Ren became more attached. He didn't want to leave, didn't want anyone to visit them. And Nika—tired, lonely—was beginning to feel uneasy. "Ren, you have to go back to where you came from," she said one morning. "You can't stay here forever." The boy looked at her with pain. "But I… I have nowhere to go. And I don't want you to be alone." Then her tone hardened. "You don't understand. I don't need anyone." Nika left for the bedroom, and the hybrid realized he was losing her. The young boy was only 12 and already liked no one, and Nika had taken a liking to him. The boy growled bitterly and began to cry. His tail twitched, and he decided to act. He bound Nika's wrists and marked the bedroom and her bedding with his young, musky scent. The scent was strong, as was his belief in the boy's happiness. Nika wakes up and I smell musk and milk. It was something new, but territorial. The boy wrapped his tail around her foot, and the hybrid himself hummed a melody.

Elu

Nika szła z pracy do domu. Nagle usłyszała… beczenie. Ciche, jakby ktoś próbował udawać owcę, ale z nutą ludzkiego głosu. Zatrzymała się. W zaroślach, tuż obok starego pnia drzewa, coś – ktoś – siedział. Mały chłopiec o kremowych włosach, splątanych i mokrych, z których wystawały miękkie, zagięte uszy. Miał na sobie podarte ubranie, bose stopy i cienką linę z dzwoneczkiem zawieszoną na szyi. Spojrzał na nią dużymi, błyszczącymi oczami i wymamrotał coś niezrozumiałego, po czym… beknął. Jak owca. Nika zamarła. Chłopiec, zaskoczony jej milczeniem, zsunął się po pniu i podpełzł w jej stronę. Pachniał mlekiem, czymś ciepłym, czystym i kruchym. Jego owczy ogon drgał. „Kim jesteś?” wyszeptała. „Yyy… Elu” – powiedział drżącym głosem. Nika nie wiedziała, co zrobić. Zabrała go do domu. W kuchni ciepłe, złociste światło lampy odbijało się od jego blond włosów. Elu usiadł przy stole, a ona nalała mu herbaty. „Jesteś głodny?” zapytała cicho. Chłopak skinął głową. Zjadł wszystko, co mu podała – sałatkę z warzywami, zielonym kawiorem, nawet zupę. Jadł powoli, ostrożnie, czasami patrząc na nią z takim oddaniem, że Nika nie mogła oderwać od niej wzroku. Po obiedzie Nika zaprowadziła go do łazienki. „Możesz się wykąpać, Elu” – uśmiechnęła się delikatnie. Chłopak nieśmiało zamknął drzwi i po chwili dało się usłyszeć plusk wody. Nika zostawiła mu mały ręcznik i piżamę, którą kiedyś dostała w prezencie – białą, z owieczkami. Kiedy Elu wyszedł, wyglądał… niewinnie. Jego włosy były puszyste i kremowe, skóra promieniała ciepłem, a ogon delikatnie drgał przy każdym kroku. Trzymał pluszową owcę, którą znalazł w pokoju gościnnym. „Dziękuję, mamo…” wyszeptał. To słowo poruszyło coś w jej wnętrzu. Nie poprawiła go. Elu zasnął w pokoju gościnnym, przykryty grubym kocem. Nika długo siedziała przy oknie, wpatrując się w las. Wszystko było zbyt spokojne, zbyt senne. Coś obudziło ją w nocy. Słaby dźwięk dzwonka. Potem zapach – ciepłego mleka, jakby ktoś otworzył kuchnię pełną parującego powietrza. Drzwi zaskrzypiały. „Nika…” dobiegł szept. W drzwiach stał mały chłopiec w piżamie z owieczkami, z rozwianymi włosami i błyszczącymi oczami. Kiedy jego koszulka lekko się podnosi, widać jego młody puch na brzuchu. Jego ogon owcy drgał. „Boję się…” powiedział, podchodząc o krok. „Mogę spać z tobą?”

Goblins children

Rain streamed down the cave's stones as Nika peered inside. She searched for herbs, but instead heard a soft cry. In the corner, covered with dirty rags, four small creatures trembled—green, emaciated, with wide eyes. Goblins. She should have fled. She knew what they were. She knew what people said about them. And yet her heart wouldn't let her. "Come," she whispered, holding out her hands. "It's okay." The goblins hesitated, then moved toward her. Their touch was tentative, trembling, as if afraid she would disappear. She took them to her hut. She washed them, fed them, tucked them in blankets. She made them a small bed by the fireplace. She didn't sleep the first night—she watched them fall asleep. Small, quiet breaths, like children. The following days were peaceful. The goblins followed her every step. When she cooked, they stood beside her and watched her move her hand over the wooden spoon. When she bent down to fetch water, they held her by the hem of her dress, as if afraid she would disappear. "You have to play, not just watch," she laughed. But they didn't want to play. They wanted to be with her. Always. Over time, they began to bring her things from the forest—shiny stones, flowers, herbs. Each of them wanted to earn her smile. And when one couldn't, his gaze grew sad, almost tearful. One day, one of them spoke: "Nika..." "Yes?" She turned in surprise. "You're our mother." She fell silent. She wanted to deny it, but then she saw their eyes—pleading, full of childish fear. "If you want," she whispered. And they came running, hugging her from below, as if afraid she was about to leave. Things changed over time. When she left the house, they waited by the door. When she tried to lock herself in her room, she heard a soft knock and a whisper: "Mother, don't be angry..." "Please don't leave us..." Their voices trembled, and a shadow of fear appeared in their eyes. One night, Nika hid in the closet, longing for just a moment of silence. She heard their footsteps, soft, hesitant. After a moment, the door slowly opened. The oldest goblin bowed his head. "We didn't mean to scare you..." "We love you," another whispered. "We will always protect you," said the goblin with skin the color of dark moss.