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

The door creaked softly as I glanced back into the dimly lit room. It wasn’t much, just a small space with my bed tucked into one corner and a faint glow from the streetlights outside casting a yellowish hue. The sight made me pause.

Huddled under the bedsheet, her small frame was almost invisible save for the occasional rise and fall of the blanket as she breathed. I shook my head and sighed.

“I’ll head out for a bit,” I called, knowing full well she was awake.

For a moment, there was no response, but then a hand shot out from under the blanket and gave me a lazy thumbs-up.

I chuckled. “You’re hopeless, Haruka.” Grabbing my coat from the hook near the door, I slipped it on and stepped outside into the cool night air.

—

Haruka had insisted on celebrating my admission into the university earlier. Her enthusiasm was as infectious as always, though it quickly shifted to grumbling about how far my new university was from hers. Honestly, I found it kind of cute how she pouted like a kid denied a treat.

But now here I was, on a completely different mission: condoms.

I sighed, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. It wasn’t like I was embarrassed or anything—okay, maybe I was, just a little—but convenience store cashiers had this uncanny way of making things awkward. My solution? The trusty vending machines, which were thankfully anonymous and far from prying eyes.

As I walked, the streets were eerily quiet, almost serene. The absence of people and the occasional sound of a car passing by gave the night a surreal quality. I reached the vending machine after a few minutes, dug some coins out of my pocket, and pressed the button.

The machine whirred softly, and my “purchase” dropped into the tray below.

“Technology is amazing,” I muttered under my breath, genuinely impressed by how convenient this was. Convenience stores could wait another day—I wasn’t ready to deal with that.

—

The walk back was just as peaceful…..or so I thought.

As I approached the familiar path leading to my building, I noticed something. Under the glow of a streetlight stood a silhouette—a lone figure, motionless and shrouded in an oversized coat.

My pace slowed instinctively. Drunk, I thought. Probably just someone having a bad night. No need to get involved.

I picked up my pace again, determined to ignore them, but just as I passed, a bloodcurdling wail pierced the air. My body jerked involuntarily, and my heart leapt into my throat.

“What the—”

I turned around, eyes wide, and saw the figure still standing there. Their head was bowed, face obscured by the shadow of the coat’s hood.

Another wail, this one lower and almost guttural, confirmed what I feared. It was a woman.

“This feels like a scene from that stupid horror movie Haruka made me watch,” I muttered, shaking my head. My mind replayed the ominous scenes from the movie, and suddenly, I felt the hairs on my neck rise.

I stepped back cautiously, planning to leave before things got any weirder. Just as I turned, a flash of light in the darkness caught my eye—a headlight, singular and sharp, approaching quickly.

A motorcycle.

It came to a halt near the woman, and my stomach tightened. Two riders, both with helmets obscuring their faces. The one on the back climbed off and started walking toward her.

My instincts screamed at me to keep walking, but my feet refused to move. I watched as the figure closed the distance to the woman, and something about their body language told me this wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Crap,” I muttered, panic bubbling in my chest. Without thinking, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled at the top of my lungs.

“OFFICER! OVER HERE! THEY’RE RIGHT HERE!”

The guy nearest the woman froze, his entire body stiffening before he scrambled backward. His partner didn’t waste a second, revving the bike and peeling off into the night. The would-be assailant stumbled, nearly tripping over himself as he sprinted after the bike.

I stood there, dumbfounded, as the scene unfolded. “Seriously?” I muttered. “That actually worked?”

When the street was quiet again, I reluctantly turned my attention back to the woman. She was still standing there, her head bowed, unmoving.

“Okay, not a ghost,” I told myself. “Definitely not a ghost.”

But my heart didn’t quite believe it. The movie’s chilling scenes flashed through my mind again as I hesitated, weighing my options. Finally, swallowing my nerves, I took a cautious step forward.

“Hey, uh… you okay?” My voice was steady, but my legs felt like jelly.

No response.

I took another step closer, the night swallowing the sound of my footsteps. The air felt heavier now, the quiet unnerving.

“Look, if you’re—”

Before I could finish, the woman slowly raised her head. My breath caught in my throat as her face came into view.

The girl stood there, wobbling slightly, her blonde hair gleaming under the streetlight. Her braid was so meticulously done it almost seemed out of place on someone acting so… disoriented. Her long lashes fluttered as she blinked sluggishly, and for a brief moment, her round, soft face caught me off guard.

Cute.

The thought lingered for just a second too long before I shook my head. No. I had Haruka waiting for me at home. Haruka, who made my world feel complete, whose warmth and quirks had captured me long ago. Compared to Haruka, this girl was just… someone passing by.

I nodded, reassuring myself, then glanced back at her. Her hazy eyes seemed to struggle with focus, and her cheeks had a faint flush, likely from whatever alcohol she was clutching in her hand.

“Hey, look,” I began, clearing my throat to sound more authoritative. “It’s not safe for you to be out here this late. You should call someone to come pick you up or—”

Before I could finish, she suddenly blurted out, “Why the hell does this thing taste so bad!?”

Her voice echoed down the empty street, startling me.

“Eh… what?” I blinked, utterly thrown off by her outburst.

She shook the bottle in her hand violently, a few drops splattering onto the pavement. Her expression twisted in frustration. “Isn’t this supposed to taste nice? Huh? I spent money on this! A lot! I want it back!”

Her complaints came fast and loud, her tone laced with indignation.

I tilted my head, trying to piece together the situation. “Is… is this your first time drinking?”

She froze mid-rant, blinking at me as though I’d just uncovered her deepest, darkest secret. Then, with an almost childlike pout, she muttered, “Maybe.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

“Of course it is,” I muttered under my breath. This wasn’t just some random drunk—it was a clueless first-timer. I glanced at the bottle again, noting how it wasn’t even halfway empty, yet she was already this far gone.

“Look,” I tried again, softer this time, “you can’t stay out here like this. Do you have someone I can call? A friend, maybe?”

She tilted her head at me, squinting like I was speaking in riddles. “You’re… really tall,” she murmured instead, completely ignoring my question.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, exasperated. “That’s helpful.”

Still, I couldn’t just leave her here. Leaving someone so out of it in the middle of the street was bound to end badly. But what was I supposed to do now? Taking her to the nearest police station sounded like the best idea, but she wasn’t exactly cooperating.

“I don’t even like drinking,” she muttered, staring mournfully at the bottle in her hand. “Why’d I even do this? It’s not like it fixes anything…”

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression—something deeper than drunken frustration.

I sighed again, steeling myself. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Huh?” she blinked at me, confused.

“Police station. They can call someone for you,” I said firmly.

But as I took a step forward, she suddenly stumbled backward, clutching the bottle like a lifeline. “Nooo! They’ll call my mom!”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Aren’t you too old to worry about that?”

“Mom’s scary,” she mumbled, her voice small.

“Great,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. What had I gotten myself into?

[A/N: Nope! she’s not a ghost!]