Casualties (Yandere Males x Reader)

[Prologue] A Participant

"I don't think this is normal."

Your body sank deeper into the commodious bed, the mattress basically swallowing your figure whole. Your eyes remained wide while your gaze fixated on the unfamiliar creamed coloured ceiling. A patch of silence suspended over the room aside from your occasional soft breaths and the faint sounds of birds chirping from a distance.

You slowly sat up and surveyed the room. Fingers tangling in your hair, your eyebrows creased in contemplation as a string of sighs escaped your lips. Closing your eyes then fluttering your eyes open again, you slumped in disappointment. Wonderful, so it wasn't your eyes playing tricks on you.

You slipped out of the bed, a part of you tempted to crawl back in it's comfortable embrace as you forced yourself to stand up. "I don't recognise this place...wait." You walked across the carpet, the softness of it felt like walking on cotton candy, and approached a tall mirror that displayed your entire figure.

You racked your brain as if digging through an abandoned memory box. "(Y/n) (L/n), that's my name," you said, clinging onto that information desperately. "And..." Your heart dropped, a foreboding feeling clutching your consciousness before a heavy realisation dawned onto you. "That's literally all I know."

Your childhood, your parents, friends, school life, hobbies; any information a regular human being would've accumulated through their years were empty from your mind. "This is definitely not normal." You glanced back at your mirror. "Did I get involved in some freak accident and got amnesia?" you inquired to yourself.

You paced around the room, delving through your mind to find any scraps of information regarding on your identity. Ultimately, you slammed your body against the wall and a groan of frustration parted your lips. "Currently experiencing an existential crisis. That's one way to live, I guess." Peeling yourself off the wall, you decided to take a look around the room.

From the lavish furnishing to the paint on the walls that looked as if it was given a new coating every other week, you allowed an impressed whistle to fly by your lips. "Wow," you commented. "This room spells out rich."

You felt like you were searching some stranger's room, nothing was clicking with you. No strange feelings of familiarities–– nothing. Any hopes of miraculously getting your memory back was now thrown out the window. Approaching a desk, you fumbled through the scattered items and picked out a student ID.

"(Y/n) (L/n), third year at Zeitaku highschool." Your head tilted to the side. This is written in Japanese and I can understand it. Well, at least you knew where in the world you were now. That established a small sense of relief in you. Shrugging, you placed the ID back onto the table and your eyes continued to search the room.

As you were walking around, your ears perked up at the sound of a notification bell. Of course, a phone! It didn't take long for you to locate the device. "I wonder if I have any friends," you hummed.

However, when you picked up the phone, your hopes of finding some information dispersed when you were faced with a passcode. About to undergo an intense game of 'put in random numbers and pray you don't disable it', a message suddenly popped up and a faint ring of a bell followed suit.

???

1789

6:34

You paused and spent a good minute staring at the text. Either the fact that an unknown number had ominously sent you a set of numbers with no context or the fact that it was done with such crazy timing unnerved you. Heck, it can even be an amalgamation of both.

Your eyebrows knitted together in perplexion. Was this the passcode? With nothing better to do, you entered in the numbers sent by the message. "It worked," you mumbled, more suspicious than joyful at the fact.