My Girlfriend Wanted an Open Relationship, So I Broke Up with Her and Found a Sweet Yandere

An hour later, I found myself standing in a cramped police booth near the train station. The warm, fluorescent light overhead flickered faintly, adding to the slight hum of the room. A lady officer sat at her desk, her posture straight, her uniform crisp. She didn’t look overly surprised at the scene unfolding before her—guess she’s used to late-night troublemakers.

The girl sat on a chair nearby, her head drooping slightly as if she were moments from dozing off. The bottle she’d been clutching earlier was confiscated and placed on the desk, its contents almost forgotten.

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion. “Sorry for the trouble, officer,” I said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

The officer gave me a small smile. “It’s fine. You did the right thing bringing her here. We’ll make sure she’s safe until someone can pick her up or she sobers up.”

I nodded, glancing at the girl. She seemed calmer now, or maybe just too tired to cause more trouble. “If she gives you any problems, feel free to call me. I’ll… figure something out.”

The officer raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re quite considerate. Not many people would go out of their way like this.”

“Well,” I said, letting out a tired sigh, “I just couldn’t leave her out there. Would’ve been worse if something happened.”

As I was about to turn and leave, I felt a sudden tug on my sleeve. I looked down, and before I could react, the girl had grabbed my arm and pulled herself closer. Her movements were clumsy, her balance still off.

“Wait!” she slurred, her voice playful but still undeniably drunk.

“What now?” I asked, already bracing myself for another round of nonsense.

Without answering, she fumbled with her phone, her fingers moving with surprising determination. Then, to my utter disbelief, she leaned in close—way too close—and held the phone up.

“Say cheese~!”

The flash went off before I could even think to protest.

“Hey—what the—” I started, but she was already giggling, swaying slightly as she stared at the screen.

“Perfect!” she said, her voice carrying that drunk, sheepish tone.

I sighed heavily, my shoulders slumping. “Great. Just great.”

She giggled again, completely oblivious to my frustration, while the officer watched the entire exchange with barely contained amusement.

“Sorry about that,” I said, bowing slightly to the officer. “Please… just call me when she’s good to go. I don’t think she’s in any state to be sent home right now.”

The officer nodded. “She can stay here until she sobers up. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

“Thank you.” I straightened up, gave the girl one last glance—she was still staring at her phone, giggling to herself—then turned to leave.

As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, clearing away some of the lingering tension. I took a deep breath, shoving my hands into my coat pockets.

What a night.

Returning home, I found Haruka sound asleep on the bed, curled up peacefully under the covers. I chuckled to myself. All that effort, walking through the night, the awkwardness with Iroha-san, and the whole scene at the police booth—only to come back and find my trip completely useless.

Well, that was the night I met her.

Iroha Miyu.

Unexplainably beautiful, a little hard to handle, and someone who hides her real self behind an earnest, proper mask. If anyone asked, they’d say she was the epitome of grace and refinement. But, as you can see, reality doesn’t quite match up to appearances.

It’s funny how fate works. After that chaotic night, I thought I’d never see her again. But no—fate had other plans.

Not only did I end up in the same university as her, but in the same class. And wouldn’t you know it, she was the very celebrity everyone was buzzing about during the entrance ceremony—the piano prodigy herself. Talk about a coincidence.

As for why she stuck around? That ridiculous selfie.

Apparently, Iroha-san is convinced that I still have some drunk photos of her saved on my phone, which I’d obviously use to ruin her pristine reputation. I don’t know if something like that happened to her before, but she was relentless. She nagged me about it constantly, refusing to let it go.

That nagging, somehow, turned into casual conversations, occasional banter, and… well, I don’t even know what to call it anymore. Is this what people call friendship? I’ve never been great at making friends, so it’s hard to say.

Anyway, despite her quirks—her sharp tongue, her awkwardness, and her endless talent—Iroha-san means no harm. She’s just… difficult to deal with sometimes.

—

Back to the present, I jumped off the train as it pulled into my stop.

To no one’s surprise, Iroha-san followed close behind me.

“Why are you coming with me? Weren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at her.

She sighed, her expression unreadable as usual. “I have time, so I’ll come with you.”

The way she phrased it made it sound like I’d invited her. I hadn’t.

Still, even if she wouldn’t admit it, I knew she was worried. Iroha-san was far too awkward to openly say it, but it was obvious in her actions. She cared, in her own strange way.

The walk from the station to my apartment wasn’t long, just a quiet ten-minute stroll through the sleepy streets of Suginami. The morning air was crisp, with sunlight streaming through the gaps in the low-rise buildings, and the faint sound of cicadas still lingered from the summer heat.

My place sat on the corner of a narrow street—a modest two-story apartment complex with a slightly faded beige exterior. My unit was on the second floor, tucked away at the far end, with a small balcony overlooking the street below.

The neighborhood was quiet, with an old-fashioned charm. There was a tiny convenience store on the corner, and the sound of someone sweeping their storefront could be heard faintly.

As we climbed the creaky metal stairs, Iroha-san glanced around but didn’t say much. The early morning light casts a warm glow on the building, making it feel a bit more alive than usual. When I unlocked the door, a faint hint of Haruka’s favorite air freshener greeted us.

That reminds me…

“I wonder if I still have those cardboard boxes I used while moving in,” I muttered to myself, scanning the room. The clutter had blended into my daily life, but now it all felt suffocating.

Iroha-san tilted her head and leaned to peek inside the apartment. “Why do you need cardboard boxes?”

Her question lingered for a moment as I glanced at her, then back at the room. Everything here—every little trinket, picture, and piece of furniture—held memories from the past few years. Memories that now felt like weights tied to my ankles.

“Nothing,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Just… some cleaning that needs to be done.”

I stepped inside, already mapping out what had to go. The shelves, the photos, even that stupid mug Haruka once bought as a joke. It all had to disappear.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been betrayed, and I doubted it would be the last. But one thing I’d learned from the first time? Dwelling on it, letting it ruin me, wasn’t an option anymore.

Not again.

***

[A/N: I’m back!!!]