The Parasite [Yandere x Reader]

Chapter 18 - (The Asking)

The sun was high in the sky as I drove into town to run errands. The familiar bustle of Main Street greeted me, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the mansion. I parked near the grocery store, grateful for the distraction of everyday tasks.

Finally, some normalcy.

Maybe this will help clear my head.

Stepping inside, I grabbed a basket and began to wander the aisles, picking up essentials and trying to push aside the lingering unease from the previous days. The grocery store was busy, shoppers chatting amiably as they went about their business. It was a welcome change from the eerie stillness of the mansion.

This is nice.

Just regular people doing regular things.

No shadows, no whispers.

As I reached for a loaf of bread, a familiar voice called out from behind me. "Y/N! Is that you?"

I turned to see Mrs. Thompson, a family friend and longtime resident of the town, approaching with a warm smile. "Mrs. Thompson!" I exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see a friendly face. "It's been ages. How have you been?"

Thank goodness, a familiar face.

Someone who knows me, knows the town.

"Oh, you know, same old," she replied with a chuckle. "Keeping busy. And you? How's life treating you at that big old mansion?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. "It's... interesting," I said diplomatically. "A lot to take care of, but it has its charm."

If only you knew, Mrs. Thompson.

If only you knew.

Mrs. Thompson nodded knowingly. "I bet it does. That house has quite a history, you know."

"Yes, I've heard a few stories," I admitted, curious where this conversation was leading.

More than a few, lately.

And experiencing some firsthand.

"Well, it's a lovely place," Mrs. Thompson continued, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if reminiscing. "But quite big for one person. Do you have anyone to keep you company up there?"

I smiled, thinking of Damien. "Actually, yes. Damien has been helping me with the house. He lives nearby."

Damien.

My anchor in all this craziness.

"Damien?" Mrs. Thompson looked at me with a furrowed brow, confusion evident in her expression. "I'm sorry, dear, but I don't recall anyone by that name around here. Are you sure he lives nearby?"

What?

How can she not know Damien?

I frowned, taken aback by her response. "Yes, he told me he lives down the road, near the old Willow Manor."

Mrs. Thompson's confusion deepened. "Right down the road? As in the old Willow Manor?"

"Yes, that's the place," I confirmed, growing more perplexed by her reaction. "Why? Is there something I should know?"

Why do I suddenly feel like I'm missing something important?

Mrs. Thompson hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Well, you know how small towns are. People talk. And... there have been stories about the old Willow Manor."