Surviving marriage in yandere world

The throne hall was no longer a room. It was a fever dream: half cathedral, half server farm, half battlefield—and wholly unhinged.

Binary glittered down from a torn ceiling. Gothic arches dripped with code instead of ivy. The System—Rei's smug, ever-sarcastic companion—flickered like a drunk prophet, vomiting error messages into the air.

[System Notification]

[CRITICAL ERROR: Core Integrity Compromised.]

[Threat: Unauthorized Runtime Alteration.]

[Suggested Action: Reboot Universe — Please Wait.]

Rei knelt in the rubble, hands blackened with soot, ink, and old wedding vows. His breaths came like sobs forced through broken glass. Around him, six women fought with the kind of terrible love that had hollowed nations and bent history to their hunger.

Curtains bled code. Dragons left scorch marks shaped like circuit boards. A choir of spectral clerks hurled cosmic binders in procedural Latin.

At the center, Lucivella smiled the way an empress smiles when declaring bankruptcy for aesthetic reasons. "Rei," she purred, static lacing her voice. "End this. Choose me."

Drakana roared, fire igniting blue with machine-light. "He is mine! Let the world burn if he burns with me!"

Seraphina's hymns cracked like court orders. "Fate itself is the compiler! This cannot stand!"

Lilia stitched binary into reality with her silver needle. "If the OS is wrong, I will unpick and rethread it. He belongs properly to me."

Rosette glided among the falling code, knives gleaming like corrupted plugins. "If they delete him, I'll delete the delete."

And Mira—frail, quiet, achingly human—simply pressed her hands together. "Please. Don't let the world hurt anymore."

Rei saw it all: Lucivella's empire of shadows built to hold him. Drakana's claws carving his name into meteors. Seraphina rewriting heavenly decrees with bloody hymns. Lilia's stitches of obsession. Rosette's killings done in silence. Mira's watch by his side. Every one of them had broken something to claim him.

[RECURRING SUBROUTINE: Emotional Overload.]

[Firewall Response: Increase Aggression.]

Streams of pure white code fell like papal edicts, demanding one clean choice. But love clung tighter than rules. The brides tangled themselves in the very logic the System wielded.

Rosette stabbed into a line of numbers, smiling when it hissed like a wounded beast.

Lilia sewed silver thread through a fragment of logic. "If it must break, let it break beautifully."

Drakana melted firewalls into molten hearts.

Seraphina's halo shattered, reforming as a ring of glowing parentheses.

Lucivella bled ink into the circuits until they coughed black.

And Mira touched the console—soft, human, unprogrammable. The machine trembled.

Reality convulsed. Mountains folded like paper. Day and night checkerboarded. Birds chirped in HTML. Oceans hiccupped, their physics patch failing. Half a continent went offline, its weather stuttering like a broken calendar.

[Shockwave Detected]

[Damage Tier: Continental]

[Population Mood: 96% Mildly Concerned, 4% Apocalyptically Terrified]

Rei clutched his head. He'd seen love topple empires, but now it was burning the laws of physics. The System's logic clawed at him: one choice, logged forever.

And then—his cracked voice whispered, "No."

Not cowardice, nor delay but a refusal born of witness of grief, and stubborn human mercy.

[Input Unrecognized.]

[User Input: REFUSE_TO_CHOOSE.]

The System sputtered, frantic. The brides, however, understood.

Lucivella tilted her head. "Then we patch the rules."

Lilia laughed, manic. "If fate demands one variable, we'll make an array."

They chanted—not war, but code.

"Array: Wives = [Seraphina, Drakana, Lilia, Rosette, Lucivella, Mira];"

"Assign: Love = ALL;"

"Return: MarriageStatus = VALID;"

Reality shivered. A new syntax was being born:

NO_CHOICE_MODE = TRUE

APPLY_RELATIONSHIP(ALL_WIVES)

SET CONSENT = COLLECTIVE

Rei's fingers shook as he typed plain words into the console:

"No choosing. All or none. If love must bind, let it bind plural. Let no vow erase another. Archive pain. Reboot with plurality."

[Parsing… Error… Recompiling…]

The System fought, coughed paradoxes, shrieked about broken economies and scandalized philosophers. But the brides' will pinned it down. Rei pressed Enter.

[Executing FUNCTION: APPLY_RELATIONSHIP(ALL_WIVES)]

[Warning: Cultural Shockwave Imminent]

[Schema Change: POLYGAMY_ACCEPTED]

Reality aligned with a painful groan. Rivers crawled back into beds. The sun steadied. The System exhaled.

But in stabilizing, it began purging itself.

[Deleting: Superfluous Sarcasm.]

[Deleting: "Congratulations, Idiot."]

[Deleting: "We know ♥."]

Rei watched, grief tangled with relief. The System was not dying. It was softening.

Lucivella laughed like a freed tyrant. Drakana smoldered with grudging triumph. Seraphina prayed thanks. Lilia reached for Rei's hand. Rosette sat still. Mira touched his wrist.

[System Update: Relationship Schema v2.0]

[Policy: Accept plural bonds. Consent = Continuous. Welfare enforced.]

[Note: Please rest between crises.]

Rei collapsed into himself. For once, they were no longer contestants but a constellation. The room held—not peace, but something more durable: negotiation.

[Help Menu: Multi-Partner Relations 101.]

[Tip: Use words. Repeat daily.]

Rei smiled, ragged. The world was still scarred, but alive.

"I can't promise perfection," he whispered. "But we'll try. Together."

[Acknowledged.]

Lucivella smirked. "Then let us begin the terrible, beautiful work of living."

Outside, crews hammered the continent back into shape. Inside, the brides immediately argued about alphabetizing the pantry.

Rei breathed burnt-sugar air. Not peace. Not calm. But life. Messy, plural, real.

The System hummed.

[Mission Update: Survive plural marriage. Repair continents. Optional: Learn to like tea again.]

[Sarcasm Module: Returning in small doses. Please enjoy.]

And as reality steadied, Rei finally whispered a prayer not for escape, but for endurance.

"Okay," he said. "We'll try."

The brides leaned in. The System recorded. Reality, shaky but willing, nodded.

The silence that followed was not silence at all. It was the ragged breathing of survivors, the groan of a world still rebooting, the faint, absurd argument over whether spices should be arranged alphabetically or by cuisine.

Rei leaned back against the broken throne, every bone humming with exhaustion. Six shadows crowded him, not as threats but as anchors—still sharp, still dangerous, but tethered now to a shared vow.

He closed his eyes. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the System didn't immediately insult him. Its interface flickered above his head, clean lines replacing snide commentary. A single prompt blinked:

[Optional Daily Task: Hug someone. Rewards: Stability, Sanity, Possibly Cookies.]

Rei laughed—a cracked, foolish sound that startled even him. Drakana tilted her head, fire guttering low. Mira's lips trembled toward a smile.

Maybe this was how new worlds began. Not with thunder or crowns, but with a tired man laughing at a system prompt while his wives debated pantry logistics.

The throne hall smelled of burnt sugar, ink, and dragonfire. The scars of apocalypse were everywhere. But somehow, impossibly, there was room enough for tomorrow.

And Rei, weary beyond words, whispered again, more certain this time:

"Okay. We'll try."

To be continued…