Yandere Levelling in Her World

Ren stood beside Meiling's bed, the quiet drip of the saline bottle the only sound between them. Her face, usually so fierce and self-assured, looked small against the white pillow.

He felt his throat tighten.

"…I'm using you," he whispered, almost ashamed to hear it out loud.

His gaze lingered on her pale lips, on the bandage at her temple. I'm using their love for my own gain, he thought. Meiling included.

He straightened, jaw clenching. "Do I… hate you, Meiling?" he murmured.

The answer came instantly, before he even finished the question. "No," he breathed. "I don't hate any of you."

But that only made the weight in his chest heavier.

He stared down at his own hands. "What will all this cost?" he muttered. "All these women who could kill me… and I'm making them obsessed with me. Just to fight a goddess. Just to get my freedom back."

His voice trembled. "But deep down, that's not the only thing I want, is it? There's something I can't understand going on. Some desire I have that I don't know."

Silence.

Ren pressed a hand over his eyes. There was something else—something he never said to anyone. A shadow that stirred every time a woman looked at him with that dangerous light. It was like a whisper at the edge of his mind, cold and heavy. It is that famillarity of a certain woman.

What is it? he asked himself. Why does it terrify me so much?

But no answer came.

He lowered his hand and looked at Meiling again. "You're sleeping so peacefully," he said quietly. "But if you open your eyes again, what will you see me as? What will you do when you realize who I really am."

He reached out almost without thinking and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers were gentle, his touch careful.

And then—

A shimmer.

His palm glowed faintly, and from Meiling's temple to his fingertips a thin golden strand flickered into existence, like a thread of light in water.

Ren's eyes widened. "What…?"

Before he could pull back, the strand pulsed and yanked him forward—not in body, but in mind.

The room vanished.

Suddenly, he stood in a garden at sunset. The sky burned gold and red; petals floated on a warm breeze.

Meiling was there, smiling at him. She wore a soft dress, nothing like her usual regal attire. She stepped close and touched his cheek.

"Ren," she said softly. "Why are you dozing out? Come let's go! This is our first date."

Ren blinked. "This is…"

A bell rang, and the garden melted away.

They were suddenly in a quiet tea house. Meiling poured him tea with steady hands, her eyes never leaving his. "You like it sweet, don't you?" she asked. "I always remember."

Ren swallowed hard. "This isn't real."

She leaned across the table, her fingers brushing his. "Drink all the tea you want, my love. I don't mind making tea for you even though it is your job as my husband."

The scene shifted again. They were on a balcony under the moon, Meiling clinging to his arm, whispering promises he couldn't quite hear. Her eyes were fever-bright with love.

Ren's breath caught. She's dreaming of me but soon he realized these were not just dreams.

Another shift—faster this time. A flurry of scenarios started to happen.

The scent of stir-fried vegetables filled the air, and Meiling's voice carried in a low, cheerful hum as she worked at the stove. She glanced back at Ren, seated at the table, her smile stretched wide in a way that looked almost too eager.

"Sit there and don't move, Ren," she said, sliding a plate toward him. "I'll make sure you eat well. Every day. Only from my hands. You can't anything else. Nobody can feed you the way I do."

Her eyes lingered on him too long, her chopsticks tapping nervously against the bowl. Even as she turned back to the pan, she kept sneaking glances—like she feared he might vanish if she didn't keep watching.

The kitchen blurred away, replaced by a dim, intimate room. Ren could feel Meiling's breath against his lips as she leaned in close, pressing her forehead firmly to his.

Her fingers dug into the back of his neck as she whispered, almost desperate, "I'll never let you go. It's fine you made a mistake...but I know it's not your fault."

The words weren't soft—they were a vow, sharp and unyielding and threatning. Her eyes, glistening with emotion, locked onto his as though she could burn the promise into his very soul.

The next image came with the cool weight of her arms around his waist. He stood on a balcony, staring out at a horizon painted in twilight colors, but he could hardly breathe under her grip.

Her chin rested against his shoulder, her voice low and possessive. "Even if the world turns against you, I'll follow. Anywhere. Even to hell itself."

She squeezed tighter, almost painfully, as if testing how much force it would take to keep him in place.

Suddenly, a rush of color and clamor—cheering voices, the pounding beat of drums. Meiling stood before him in a flowing red wedding dress, brighter than fresh blood under the lantern light. Her smile was radiant, but her hands trembled as they clutched his, holding so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"They're all here to witness," she said breathlessly, her gaze fixed only on him despite the crowd. "They'll all know—you're mine now. Forever."

The way she spoke, it wasn't a celebration. It was a claim.

Then came the chaos—the smell of iron, the weight of blood in the air. The battlefield stretched around them, littered with corpses. Meiling stood before him, her hair matted, her dress torn and soaked red. One arm was wounded, but she still clung to his hand almost as if she is guarding him from something.

Her eyes shone fever-bright, unbroken even amid the carnage. "As long as you're mine," she rasped, blood staining her lips, "nothing else matters. I will kill anyone who tries to interfere with our life."

And though the world burned around them, she smiled—utterly content, utterly unyielding.

Each vision bled into the next, warmer and darker at once. Her smile grew sharper, her grip tighter.

Ren felt a tremor in his chest. "Meiling…"

Another image—this one almost too bright to look at: Meiling holding a blade, standing between him and an unseen enemy whom Ren slightly recongized. "I'll kill anyone who tries to take you," she hissed, eyes wild.

Ren stumbled back. "Stop—"

But the dream didn't stop.

Ren clenched his fists. She's obsessed… in every single scene. It was as if he was being shown the answer to what kind of dangerous situation he was truly dealing with.

The images blurred into a whirl of color and voices.

"Ren."

"Mine."

"Forever."

At first, he thought all of these were just dreams, but the details were far too vivid, too precise, to be mere illusions. Everything felt real. In every scenario, Ren found himself unable to move, forced to simply watch.

It wasn't until Meiling stepped into a dark room and quietly closed the door behind her that he began to understand.

In this version, she looked much older—her face carrying the lines of middle age. Ren struggled, desperate to rise and speak to her, only to realize that his entire body was paralyzed.

He had been paralyzed all along.

The reason he was fed, the reason he was hugged without being able to move, the reason Meiling poured tea for him—all of it was because of Ren's condition.

Ren's eyelids twitched. That was the only thing he could move—his eyes. He tried to shout, tried to shift even a finger, but nothing answered. His body was a prison, his voice stolen. All he could do was watch.

One by one, candles flickered to life around him, as if obeying her will. Their flames stretched shadows along the walls until the room was bathed in a dim, golden glow.

And then—he saw them.

Women. Dozens of them, surrounding him in a circle. Some young, some old, their eyes shining with the same unsettling adoration. Every gaze was fixed solely on him, hungry and worshipful.

Ren's pulse thundered in his ears.

Meiling walked forward, her expression serene yet trembling with obsession. She climbed onto the bed, pressed herself against him, and wrapped her arms around his unresponsive body.

"My lord… my savior… my beloved man… my husband," she whispered, her voice quivering with rapture as she pressed her cheek to his.

Ren's pupils darted in panic, but that only seemed to fuel her joy.

She suddenly raised her voice, shouting to the circle of women.

"My children! Your father—your god—will show his love to all of you today!"

A shiver of excitement rippled through the gathered women.

"But as always," Meiling declared, pressing her lips close to Ren's ear, "your mother… I shall be the first to receive the love of the greatest man who ever lived!"

She spread her arms wide, her eyes fever-bright, and screamed:

"Shall we begin our Ren worshipping?!"

The room erupted with cries of devotion, the sound crashing over Ren like a tidal wave.