4 Yandere Think With Me

The gray metropolitan highway was completely suffocated by the evening rush hour. Red taillights stretched across the damp asphalt like a bleeding vein, casting a dull, crimson glow over the wet windshield of my sedan. I kept one hand on the steering wheel, my posture loose and entirely relaxed as I maintained a steady, unhurried cruising speed through the massive congestion. The constant downpour had slowed down to a thick, heavy mist that clung to the metal frames of the surrounding vehicles, turning the entire multi-lane grid into a monochromatic labyrinth of steel and exhaust.

Every breath I took remained perfectly measured, a slow exercise in complete physical containment to keep my baseline internal pulse locked at its flat sixty beats per minute. Through my absolute sensory control, I dialed down the internal parameters of my muscular system, ensuring my feet applied just enough pressure to the pedals to simulate the heavy, unathletic movements of a normal civilian. My heightened senses were operating on an independent, razor-sharp frequency, mapping the precise spatial orientation of every heartbeat framing the car’s perimeter.

Exactly fifty meters behind my rear bumper, the low, steady purr of the deep-burgundy executive limousine kept perfect pace, its reinforced headlights cutting twin beams of sharp white light through the rolling fog. Aria Shirayuki hadn’t withdrawn her corporate detail after the archive confrontation; she was sitting behind the tinted glass herself, her heterochromatic eyes likely tracking the physical outline of my vehicle through her private dashboard monitors. She was maintaining the exact spatial boundary I had established, her compliance holding by a single, fragile thread.

On my left flank, hidden within the blind spots of the heavy cargo trucks, the aggressive rumble of a high-displacement motorcycle engine remained perfectly synchronized with my acceleration. Mia Asakura was riding the shoulder lane, her small frame tucked beneath a dark tactical jacket, her kuncir dua hair trailing slightly behind her helmet as her dark, lifeless pupils never left my side mirror. She was keeping her fingers rested casually near the handlebars, her posture coiled like a patient predator waiting for the traffic to fracture.

They were respecting the literal terms of the truce, but the boundaries felt entirely artificial, like a thin layer of ice over a roaring current.

Bzzzt.

The sedan’s central dashboard navigation screen suddenly glitched, the digital map of the residential district warping into a pitch-black command line terminal before a single string of unformatted text stabilized across the console.

Chloe: [Aria’s corporate detail just initiated a remote block on the main highway exit ramp ahead, Ren. She has registered a private ’security anomaly’ with the city transit authority to isolate your sedan within the next two intersections. She is trying to turn the entire residential sector into a physical blind spot so you cannot guide your vehicle home. I am currently routing an emergency override through the old commercial rail tunnels to clear your path. Take the next left turn immediately.]

I didn’t lift my foot from the accelerator. I kept my face an unyielding, calm mask as I guided the vehicle straight ahead, ignoring her digital instruction.

Aria was systematically using her family’s wealth to reshape the transit grid of the city, rendering my standard route completely blocked so the ghost would be forced to seek shelter inside her newly engineered harbor vault. She wanted to lift my anchor from the campus grid entirely, forcing a scenario where I would have to accept her private escort.

Karen Kirishima’s soft, serene voice drifted from the passenger seat next to me.

She had been sitting in absolute silence since I picked her up from the university library’s side entrance, her hands resting neatly over her school uniform. But now, her dark eyes were wide, completely void of light as she watched the scrolling green text on the dashboard screen. Her right hand slowly drifted toward her coat pocket, where the iron-rich scent of Kaguya Hayashi’s traditional contract paper still lingered.

"The digital parasite inside your console is trying to alter your direction, Ren-sama," Karen whispered, her tone carrying an icy, terrifying serenity that cut through the sound of the engine. "The main exit ramp isn’t facing a security anomaly. My private terminal logs show that four of Mia’s underworld enforcers are currently staging an armed standoff with Aria’s tactical guards near the lower junction. The road is compromised. Let me take the wheel. I can guide us to the old medical facility where my private foundation controls the power lines. They cannot trace us there."

"We are staying on the primary route, Karen," I said, my voice quiet, natural, and entirely unbothered as I shifted the car into the lower gear lane. "Keep your seatbelt fastened."

I knew exactly what lay down this dark industrial path. In my original manuscript of "Unveiling the Neon Hearts," the abandoned commercial sector near the old shipping warehouses was supposed to be the location where Haruto Kirishima rescued Aria from an industrial kidnapping arc, unlocking her first major romance flag. Now, that entire fictional territory had been completely subverted. Haruto was currently sitting in a damp internet cafe three miles away, trying to dry his glued sneakers under a desk heater, entirely written out of his own universe. The heroines didn’t want the protagonist; they were converting the narrative’s old battlegrounds into a high-stakes psychological cage to isolate a background character.

As my sedan rolled past the blocked exit ramp and entered the shadowed avenues beneath the concrete overpass, the overhead streetlights suddenly died.

The entire three-block sector was plunged into an artificial blackout, the neon billboards of the surrounding storefronts blinking out in a synchronized wave of dead static as Chloe pulled the central breaker line from her remote terminal. At the exact same moment, a sudden flash of high-intensity beams cut through the heavy fog from a parallel lane.

An unmarked black SUV belonging to Aria’s tactical division suddenly veered across the wet asphalt, attempting to cut off my trajectory and force my sedan toward the concrete median. From the opposite side of the intersection, two matte-black motorcycles from the Asakura syndicate accelerated out of the gloom, their riders reaching into their dark jackets as their engines roared with an aggressive, metallic snarl.

The intersection was about to turn into a full-scale territorial firefight right in front of my bumper. The truce was fracturing in real-time under the weight of their competitive fixations.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel by a single millimeter, my mind remaining perfectly calm, my heart rate steady. Without revealing an ounce of my monstrous, god-like physical power, I utilized my master-level combat reflex to calculate the exact structural gap between the approaching vehicles, tracking the weight distribution of the sliding SUV and the traction of the motorcycles on the wet pavement.

With a sharp, calculated turn of the wheel, my sedan glided through the narrow space with millimeter precision. The side mirrors missed the SUV’s reinforced front bumper by a mere fraction of an inch, the tires gripping the slick asphalt with a quiet hiss as I slammed on the gas. The engine roared, the sedan shooting past the blockade like a bullet clearing a barrel, leaving the armed enforcers completely outmaneuvered and stranded in the heavy mist behind us.

The green command lines on my watch screen paused, Chloe’s interface returning to a quiet, steady standby state as I guided the car back onto the open highway. The girls’ violent yandere impulses had broken the boundary for a single split second, but my absolute control had forced the equilibrium back into place.

"They are getting reckless, Ren-sama," Karen murmured, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook as she stared at the rear-view mirror."

The princess’s limousine is already navigating the perimeter of the blockade.

She isn’t letting the line go."

"They will stay behind the fifty-meter threshold," I said quietly, my voice entirely natural as I adjusted my mirrors.

Through the thick reflection of the fog, I could see the burgundy frame of the limousine and the single headlight of Mia’s motorcycle emerging from the darkened underpass, their acceleration smooth and controlled as they resumed their positions. They had tested the limits of the cage, but the raw authority of my ultimatum from the archive room was still anchoring their wilder impulses. They knew that if they pressed any closer, the ghost would leave the city for good.

The sedan rolled smoothly down the long, sweeping curve of the coastal bypass, the dark concrete pillars of the industrial shipping docks passing by like giant ribs through the fog. The master line of the corrupted novel remained locked on its dark, uncompromising path, the net was tightening with every intersection, and surviving the intercept was just another necessary step toward the final Chapter. I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead, the rhythm of the wipers clearing the mist as the city lights began to blink back into existence in the distance, a silent reminder that the game was far from over.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!