How To Survive A Cute Ghost Yandere
Chapter 2: Cute Ghost (2)

Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Cute Ghost (2)

’Is it all over...?’

The thought simply arrived on its own—the only shred of awareness left in an endless darkness.

The young man felt no weight in his body at all. He couldn’t move, had no connection to any part of himself, as if every limb had been erased from his existence.

His scattered memories slowly drifted back, forming a sliver of awareness that grew clearer and clearer.

’...Huh? Where... am I...?’

The question surfaced above his consciousness. The darkness didn’t fade, and he was certain that wherever he currently was looked nothing like either hell or heaven.

Or... was this actually what death really felt like?

Trapped in a meaningless void, alone forever, lonely forever?

His heart pounded.

Thump.

Just once, but enough to startle him.

’Huh?’

Could a dead person still have a beating heart?

That didn’t make sense.

But... what if he was still alive...?

Maybe he was in a coma.

Then, catching sight of a faint glimmer of light in the distance, the young man finally felt his heartbeat slowly, steadily returning.

He really was still alive.

And if that was true, he wouldn’t act like a fool this time. He reached for that sliver of light, whether it was near or impossibly far.

It felt like chasing a mirage. But the young man didn’t care. He wanted to live. He wanted to make up for his regrets.

Those thoughts consumed his mind until the sliver of light widened.

’I want to live...!’

He wouldn’t be a loser this time.

He wanted to become the winner.

Waaah—!!

Light crept upward, swallowing the thick darkness whole. His awareness slowly registered the connection to his own body. His eyes opened, slow and heavy, and a small groan slipped past his lips.

"Ugh..."

The young man opened his eyes.

There was no sterile hospital smell, no familiar white hospital ceiling, no sharp scent of medicine, and no bed or pillow beneath him.

Everything felt flat and hard.

The ceiling showed a dark, rough surface. His surroundings were just as dark, no light anywhere except for one bulb flickering intermittently somewhere in the distance.

He could feel how exhausted his body was. A musty, dusty smell filled his senses as he struggled to sit up.

’Where... am I...?’

The question came again.

Strangely, the room felt somewhat familiar.

Like he’d seen it not too long ago.

The young man rubbed his throbbing, spinning head. Something felt distinctly off about his own body—the same feeling as putting on clothes that simply didn’t fit right.

With a confused sigh, the young man lifted his head.

"Why... why... why are you still alive...?"

"...?"

A voice rang out—a woman’s voice, so soft and sweet to hear. The young man flinched, snapping his gaze toward the source of the sound.

His whole body went rigid.

"Huh?"

Standing there, watching him with a blank, gloomy expression, was a woman he recognized all too well. No—he didn’t recognize her personally, but he at least recognized who she was.

Pale white hair falling to her shoulders, pale white pupils matching her hair, a face so innocent and sweet, pale white skin beneath a straight white dress. And scattered across her body were several cracked patches, followed by snake-like scales running along her stomach, faintly visible beneath her slightly transparent white dress.

The woman raised her hand, touching her own cheek as she tilted her head. Her soft cheeks flushed pink on both sides as her eyes curved into crescents.

"Ah."

That single sound was the last thing the young man registered before he froze, watching the woman walk toward him, her razor-sharp nails sinking straight through his flesh.

Sharp pain blurred his thoughts. He tried to hold on, but in the end, a wretched scream of agony tore loose from him.

The woman wrapped her free arm around his body, while her other hand pierced straight through his stomach. Their faces, so close together now, let the young man feel her breath—small, short, and ticklish against his skin.

But did any of that even matter?

"W-wait...! W-why are you doing this to me?"

The young man had no idea what was happening. But he could tell, without a doubt, that he was in serious trouble.

Blood gushed endlessly from his stomach, and if this kept up, he really would die before he could do anything at all.

’Why? I haven’t even done anything...! Why? Why?’

Driven by a desperate will to survive, the young man bit down on his lip. Both hands shot up, gripping the woman’s waist in front of him, and he shoved her back with all his strength.

"Uh...?!"

The woman stumbled back a few steps. Her expression flickered with a faint frown, but it smoothed back into blankness as a small smile crept onto her face.

"...Just as I thought. You don’t love me anymore."

Meanwhile, the young man gasped for breath, staring down at the gaping hole in his own stomach—a sight utterly horrifying. Cold sweat poured off him without end, his face darkening with pure terror.

"Ah... wait a second," he said, staring at the pale white woman in desperation. "Wait—this is a misunderstanding! Why are you even after me? N-no, wait, this is completely insane! Why are you even here?!"

Rambling, grasping at anything he could say, the young man tried everything. But in the end, the pale white woman didn’t respond to a single word of it—she seemed to sink entirely into her own world instead.

"Don’t be scared, darling. This will be over soon. There’s nothing to worry about, because... you belong to me. Forever."

A crooked smile spread across her face.

Unlike before, the pale white woman no longer showed even a trace of mercy.

The young man screamed. But those sharp nails had already pierced through the skin and flesh of his throat. His vocal cords tore. Fresh blood poured out. The last thing the young man saw was the pale white woman’s smile, breathless and utterly satisfied.

But the strangeness of the situation didn’t end there. He woke up gasping, clutching at his own throat, his face choking with panic, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

Finding no wound on either his neck or his stomach, he laughed.

"Haha... Right... Right... That was definitely just a dream."

He immediately glanced around, trying to find his own room, or at least a hospital after his fall.

He searched desperately, scanning for anything familiar. But there was nothing. His heart sank—he was still in that same dark, suffocating warehouse.

"Ah..."

His heart sank.

He glanced down slightly. That was when he realized his current body was overlapping with, passing straight through, a human body lying behind him.

The young man saw a body he recognized, dead in the most gruesome way. Wounds at the stomach and throat—exactly what he himself had just experienced. And the face of that person was one he knew.

Wearing an academy uniform, pale black hair, red pupils blown wide with shock.

He didn’t even have time to process any of it before a transparent blue screen suddenly appeared before him.

[You have died.]

[Would you like to revive now?]

[Yes] // [Wait a Moment]

"...Huh?"

[Host did not respond within ten seconds.]

[Automatic response selected.]

[Beginning host revival.]

***