Have you ever heard the word yandere?
If not, then allow him to educate you on what a yandere is.
A yandere is a character type, usually female, who is obsessively and uncontrollably in love with someone. Their love isn't normal—it's extreme, unhealthy, and can even turn violent. They're possessive, jealous, and willing to do anything to make sure their beloved is theirs and theirs alone.
This obsession often leads them to dark and dangerous actions, such as stalking their love interest, sabotaging their relationships with others, or even harming anyone who gets in their way. In some cases, they might even kidnap the person they love to "protect" them. A yandere's love is both terrifying and fascinating—it's love pushed to its most extreme and psychotic limits.
On the outside, a yandere might seem sweet, shy, or harmless. But deep down, they're capable of incredibly dark actions to ensure their love is returned or protected. That duality is what makes them so interesting and memorable in stories.
Yandere characters are incredibly popular in anime, games, and novels because they add tension, drama, and an unpredictable edge to the story. Their extreme devotion and willingness to go to any lengths create a mix of fear and excitement for the audience.
Personally, he's a big fan of yandere stories. There's something thrilling about watching characters with obsessive love take over a story with their chaos and intensity. Sure, some might call it strange to enjoy such stories, but come on, what's a yandere tale without a little madness?
He means, torture, murder, and even rape—people find these stories fascinating to read about.
But let's be honest, it's usually only when the victims are men and the oppressors are women. It's one of those societal double standards: violence against men is often treated as less serious or even entertaining in fiction, while the same happening to women is considered far more sensitive and unacceptable.
Anyways, he guesses he got too caught up in that genre because, somehow, he ended up getting transported—or isekai'd, as the Japanese would say—into a dark yandere fantasy anime. The series he woke up in is called Secret Magical Lovers, one of the most popular and iconic yandere stories ever created.
If you're wondering how he got into this, well, even he doesn't know.
All he could say was that he had been sleeping on his bed after watching the second episode of the latest season, which he had watched after indulging in some hot lesbian yuri action. Suddenly, everything went black, and when his consciousness returned, he found himself in someone else's house, in someone else's body.
At first, he tried to act like he was freaking out and panicking—just like anyone would be in a situation like this. But he quickly gave up.
He was too old for this kind of shit.
If he were a teenager, sure, this might have been exciting or even fun.
But he wasn't.
He was a thirty-two-year-old adult with responsibilities and bigger priorities in life. He was so close to finally losing his virginity, getting married, and starting a family to continue his bloodline. But now? All of that had been reset to zero because he was a teenager again, stuck in this ridiculous situation.
Though, there was one more thing bothering him.
Who the hell was this Exzakiel?!
The person whose body he now found himself in.
You see, he had watched almost every episode of the anime, read all the light novels, and even finished the manga.
But he couldn't recall anyone with that name—not even a passing mention.
There was only one conclusion he could come to: Exzakiel was probably just a mob character, someone so insignificant to the story that they didn't even deserve to be named.
Then with a grim expression, he approached the mirror across the room.
The oval mirror stood tall, its wooden frame engraved with delicate floral patterns that made it look like something from an antique shop. The glass was polished, reflecting his new appearance with surprising clarity.
He stared at his figure. He was tall and lean, with just enough muscle definition to hint at strength. His skin was pale, almost unnaturally fair, and his hair was white, falling loosely over his forehead. His crimson eyes stood out the most, sharp and intimidating, making him look like one of those cold and mysterious characters in a story.
"At least I got fair skin," he muttered under his breath. "If I'd ended up with dark skin, I'd be in a lot more trouble here. Some of the monsters in this world have a weird preference for attacking darker-skinned people." He scowled at the thought, a strange but bitter detail that reminded him just how messed up this world was.
He raised his hand and touched his face, letting the reality of his situation sink in.
The world he was now in was extremely dangerous, with death waiting around every corner. It was a world filled with monsters and witches, all hidden from the eyes of ordinary people. Here, people like him—regular and powerless—died every day. Their deaths were often dismissed as mysterious disappearances or written off as accidents.
What made things even worse was that he didn't have a system. In many stories, a "system" is some kind of sentient, god-like being that grants game-like powers to the protagonist, complete with RPG mechanics. A system like that could have given him skills, strength, or some chance of survival. But unfortunately, he didn't have one.
He also hadn't received any kind of overpowered ability or cheat skill. There was nothing special about him. He was just a regular, powerless guy, as plain and insignificant as any mob character. The only thing he had going for him was his luck—and even that wasn't something he could count on in a world like this.
He wanted to murmur something, but the words didn't come. With his reflection staring back at him, he placed his hand on the mirror, and his reflection did the same. As he pressed his palm against the cool surface, tiny cracks began to form, spidering out from where their hands met.
He stared at them for a moment, watching the cracks spread as his mind drifted towards an important thought.
I'll have to exploit every situation to my advantage. And I'm willing to do anything—lie, betray, manipulate, mind-break, deflowering, or combine all of those if needed. Hell, I'll even sleep with someone's grandma if it means I can live a safe and healthy life!
He wasn't a good person, and he didn't care about things like morals. He would do whatever was necessary to survive, no matter how it looked to others. What people thought of him didn't matter.
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, before turning away from the mirror and walking to the bed.
The bed was as soft and luxurious as it looked, its thick mattress sinking slightly under his weight as he lay down.
"Well, at least I get to enjoy high school again," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "And this time, maybe I'll even graduate. I never finished high school the first time around..." His voice trailed off as he thought back to his old life.
Looking back, though, this whole situation feels like some cliché plot from a novel.
He paused, frowning.
Maybe I'm just overthinking it.