Beyond, With a Yokai

Chapter 1: Who Are You?

"The men's bathroom is down the hall," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. But inside, everything trembled.

He only smirked, eyes never leaving hers, and casually began washing his hands like they'd just run into each other by chance.

"So what?" he said. "You gonna report me?"

"And what if I do?" she snapped, trying to stay composed, though her voice betrayed her tension.

His smile vanished, like it had never been there.

His eyes darkened—deep and cold, like a storm was brewing behind them.

The room suddenly felt ice-cold.
Goosebumps prickled across her skin.

"You're shaking. Did I scare you that much?" he asked with terrifying calm, as if he already knew the answer.

Yesenia straightened up, forcing herself to look taller.
"Little girls use this bathroom. You're clearly not one of them."

He rolled his eyes.
"Ugh. I'm too lazy to come up with an excuse," he said, stepping back from the sink and leaning casually against the cold tile wall.

"What do you mean come up with?" A new kind of fear bloomed in her chest.
"Who are you? Are you stalking me or something?!"

Her voice rose, cracking at the edges.
Tension crashed over her like a wave of ice water.
She instinctively backed against the sink, as if it could protect her somehow.

He only smiled.

"I could say I'm a camp counselor," he began, voice low and dripping with something poisonous. "That I arrived a few days late. That I thought no one would be here this late at night..."

He tilted his head.
"But you've already figured it out, haven't you? Even if you're trying so hard to convince yourself otherwise."

Her heart clenched.

She didn't know what scared her more—his words, or the way he said them.
Each one slipped into her mind like thick, black oil—clinging, suffocating.

She began inching back slowly, doing her best not to make any sudden movements.
If she could, she would've vanished into the air just to avoid being alone with him.

"And what exactly have I figured out?" she asked, drawing the words out, trying to buy herself a few more seconds to reach the door.

He watched her with amused detachment, like her fear was mildly entertaining.

"That I'm not a counselor. Not a student either," he said, voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
"And that this isn't a camp. Everything around you is fake. Just a set I built."

Yesenia froze.

She didn't understand what he meant.
But every word sent a sliver of ice down her spine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"
She could barely breathe.
He's not just a creep—he's insane!
If she didn't run now, this could end very badly.

"The truth," he shrugged, like it was no big deal.

His eyes—dark as a moonless sky—locked onto her.
Watching. Studying. Peeling her apart from the inside.

"This is a rare thing," he added. "You should be grateful."

Then his tone shifted—mocking, playful.

"You're kind of boring, you know. No screaming? No panicking? No running away?"

Yesenia clenched her fists.