Beyond, With a Yokai

Chapter 2: Your Name

"Tell me... what do you want from me?" Her voice trembled, just barely—but she prayed he didn't notice. "If you're planning to torment me, just kill me now."

"If you behave yourself, I won't lay a finger on you."

"And what exactly counts as 'behaving myself'?"
Panic surged in her throat.
Did he mean...? No. Please no.

He recoiled as if she'd said something disgusting.

"Ugh. God, no."
He looked genuinely appalled. "What the hell kind of thoughts are you having?"

"You can read my mind too? Great. Just great."

"I can read your emotions. And your body language," he said lazily, like it was the most mundane thing in the world.
"And right now, yours are screaming something... disturbing."

He spoke with such disgust that it actually stung a little.
Was it that bad?

"Wow. No one's ever said that to me before."

"Probably should have. You're all skin and bones—and something's definitely off up here."
He tapped his temple, grinning.

The sarcasm stung, but it was bearable.
Let him think she was weak and pathetic.
That was good. Let him underestimate her.

If he lowers his guard, I can earn his trust.

"You'll answer my questions and do what I say. Preferably without whining."
His tone was calm, flat even—but there was a sharp edge beneath it.

"And if I do, I'll get to leave this place?"

He snorted like she'd just asked if unicorns were real.

"You still don't get it. You'll help me—but I won't be helping you get out of here."

Her stomach dropped. The beanbag swallowed her like quicksand.

She didn't want to stay here.
Didn't want to live in a world full of monsters like Yakan.
Or like... him.

"I thought this was supposed to be mutual. I help you, you help me."

His dark brows lifted in mock surprise.

"Who said it isn't?" he asked, dead serious. "You help me. And I don't kill you."

"Wow. How generous of you..."
The lump in her throat thickened, and she coughed, trying to breathe through the rising panic.

"Coming from me, it is generous," he said evenly, reaching for a water bottle beside his chair.
He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

Yesenia grabbed it with both hands like it might vanish, then took a few greedy gulps. The cool water calmed her throat just enough to speak.

"Hard to call this living," she muttered. "What's the difference between this and being dead?"

He stared at her, like he was trying to read the part of her thoughts she didn't dare say aloud.

"Would you rather be dead?" he asked slowly—then waved her off before she could answer.
"Doesn't matter. You won't die unless I let you."

His voice turned cold, eyes flashing with something feral.

"And even if you won't talk, trust me—I've got plenty of ways to loosen stubborn tongues."

Her body tensed. Every hair on her arms stood up.

So this is what he really is.
A monster behind a pretty face.
Something that could rip out a heart without blinking.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to keep talking.