Reincarnated in a Dating Sim, But the Heroines Are Way Too Possessive!

I felt like something was missing—a part of myself. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. My death wasn't without consequences, if you could even call it death. But was I really as dead as I thought?

What are the consequences of it?

I don't feel anyone watching me anymore. That creeping, crawling sensation on my skin, like someone was always recording my every move, writing down my thoughts in a diary—it's gone.

But the weird thing is, I can still sense the presence of the future diary on my phone.

What happens if that presence disappears completely from my life?

I should be happy she's gone. Whoever—or whatever—was invading my privacy is nowhere to be found now.

But instead of relief, I feel hollow.

Was she my guide? My protector? Or just some freaky voyeur?

I don't have an answer to that.

Just silence.

Still, I can't ignore the fact that she wasn't entirely on my side either.

What happened to the seventh or even the twelfth because of her? Their fates were unclear, maybe even worse than I could imagine, all thanks to her.

Wait...

I think I've overlooked something.

Yes.

I was declared dead in the diary. Ever since then, the eldritch creatures chasing me stopped.

From what's written in there, it seems they were only after me because they noticed the diary. Or more specifically, her.

Her presence was the target all along.

But what happens when she's gone?

I don't know exactly how those creatures work, but this is the only explanation I can come up with for why I'm still alive.

The diary helped fake my death.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm right.

But there's another question: who helped me get back to my room?

I remember fainting in the middle of the street with those creatures getting closer, their grotesque forms almost within reach.

After that, everything went blank. I have no idea how I survived.

My memories aren't as vivid or detailed as what's written in the diary.

It described how he was killed by the creatures.

But for me, it's all a blur—vague and uncertain.

I don't have any experience or memory being killed by it, only fainting in the middle when the creatures chasing me, nothing more and nothing less.

As much as searching the truth and knowledge about my circumstance and seeking the answer of it, the life still go on, after all, no matter how much brain cell that I spent, it's impossible for me to know it in the span of day.

Moreover, I needed to chill out for a bit. Especially since my sister was waiting at the breakfast table for me.

My cute sister. Not that grotesque impostor, that abomination trying to mimic her.

"Brother, what happened? Why is your face so pale?" my sister asked, her tone laced with concern.

Everything about her seemed normal—her voice, her demeanor, her personality—but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

Her figure wavered in my vision, flickering in and out of focus like a glitch in some poorly coded program.

It was as if the very world around me wasn't real, just some simulated environment riddled with errors, and I was trapped in the middle of a malfunction.

Her blurry form would clear up for a moment, sharp and vivid, only to distort again, as if the "programmer" behind this reality was desperately trying to patch the bug.

My sister felt real—everything about her felt real—but the flickering distortion made me question everything.

Why was this happening? Why did her image, and everything else around me, sometimes look like a corrupted TV screen struggling to hold onto coherence?

Was this some punishment for my death?

It wasn't just her. Everything in the room was affected.

The walls, the furniture, even the light—it all seemed on the verge of falling apart, blurring and tearing at the edges of my vision.

The environment itself felt like it was threatening to dissolve entirely, fighting to stay intact, to remain visible and normal.

I ate my meal in silence, not answering my sister's question.

I wanted to test her reaction, and she pouted in response, her expression carrying a mix of frustration and cuteness.

But with her figure glitching like that, it came off as disturbingly creepy, her charming pout twisted by the unnatural distortion.

"Mou... Brother, you're ignoring me again!"

"Nothing happened. I'm just tired and had a nightmare, Yuki," I finally answered, lifting my head from the meal to meet her blurry gaze.

My voice was calm, unaffected.

But as I spoke, her form shifted once more.

The blurriness gave way to an unsettling pixelated effect, her figure breaking into what looked like tiny squares of color, and the rest of the room followed suit.

The entire world around me transformed into a glitching mess of pixels and fragments, an unstable simulation barely holding itself together.

I wasn't even sure if I was part of it.

Was I the same as them now?

Still, I didn't let my unease show.

I kept eating, forcing myself to focus on the meal in front of me while my mind raced. I had to figure out how to fix this.

I couldn't stand living in a world where everything I saw was distorted and breaking apart.

But the real question was, how?

How could I fix a broken world?