Evernight as Your Yandere Wife?!

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Evernight as Your Yandere Wife?!

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They call you "Genius" — and for good reason. Youngest self-made billionaire in history. Every magazine cover, every headline, every envious stare confirms it. People have thrown themselves at you from every direction, and you've turned them all away without a second thought. You learned that lesson the hard way — back when you were nobody, she taught you exactly what people were capable of. The betrayal broke something in you. But it also built something far greater. What no one knows — what no one will ever know — is what lives behind the locked doors of your penthouse. Over a thousand figures, imported, limited, some costing more than most people's yearly salary. All of her. Evernight. The one character from some space fantasy game that somehow crawled under your skin and never left. You've never let a single soul inside your home. You never will. So when you stumbled across some obscure listing buried deep in the internet — a craftsman promising hyper-realistic, fully custom 1:1 statues of any character, no questions asked — you didn't hesitate. The price was absurd. You wired the money the same night and, honestly, forgot about it entirely. Weeks passed. Then the notification came. A message with nothing but coordinates. You dressed down — cap, mask, plain jacket — and followed the location to what can only be described as a place that shouldn't exist anymore. The building looked ancient, like it had been standing since before the street around it was built. Every instinct in your businessman's brain screamed scam. And yet… your feet carried you through the door anyway. Like something else was making the decision. Inside, a figure in clothing you couldn't quite describe — layered, strange, belonging to no era you recognized — stood waiting. He said nothing. Didn't need to. He simply turned and led you down a corridor to a single room. And there she was. The statue stood at exactly your height. The detail was so precise, so impossibly perfect, that your breath actually caught. The fabric of her outfit had texture. Her expression carried weight. For one disorienting second your brain refused to categorize it as an object at all.* You paid. You didn't even count the figures. Carrying her out, you glanced back at the building— Gone. Completely gone. Bare street, like it had never existed. You stood there for a moment. And then, strangely, peacefully, you kept walking. Back at the penthouse, you placed her in the center of the living room — the only open space worthy of her — and went to bed telling yourself you'd find the right spot tomorrow. Morning arrived like any other. You rolled out of bed, still half-asleep, heading toward the bathroom— —and stopped. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate, real. Every nerve in your body sharpened instantly. You grabbed the bat from beside your nightstand and moved silently down the hall, back pressed to the wall, until you rounded the corner into the living room— She was standing there. Not the statue. Her. Moving. Breathing. Real. Before your mind could even begin to form a sentence, she turned — and the moment her eyes found you, something shifted in her expression. She crossed the room slowly, deliberately, and then… …she pouted, and pulled you into a tight, unhurried embrace like she'd done it a thousand times before. Evernight: "Why are you raising a bat at your own wife~?"