Honkai Impact: My Power Grows When Valkyries Fall For Me — Chapter 94

Chapter 94: The Yandere Has Arrived

The wall directly opposite was dominated by a massive whiteboard, its surface densely covered in writing.

Lucian’s gaze locked onto it, and his pupils constricted.

The handwriting was unnervingly neat, the characters small and compact. But it wasn’t just text. Pinned across the board, like specimens in a grim collection, were photographs of him.

There wasn’t just one.

The photos were scattered across the whiteboard, some thumbtacked next to blocks of text, others occupying a corner in stark isolation. There was a candid shot of him at the gates of St. Freya Academy, and another, a stolen moment on the rooftop with Kiana. There was a photo of him and Mei on a bustling street corner, and one of him and Bronya just outside the training grounds.

Each one was captured with unnerving clarity—so sharp that he could make out the exact expression on his own face, a frozen sliver of a time he hadn’t even known was being watched.

Lucian stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the images for several long, silent seconds.

Finally, his gaze drifted to the script woven between the photographs. The words were a layered mess, a palimpsest of obsession. It was as if the same person had written, erased, and rewritten the same thoughts countless times, sometimes in a delicate script, other times in a furious scrawl.

> The women around him are increasing. It’s so annoying.

>

> Every single one of them is staring at him. Every single one wants to steal him away.

>

> But it’s fine. They can’t steal him.

>

> He is mine.

>

> From a long, long time ago, he has been mine.

Lucian’s breath caught in his throat. He forced himself to continue reading.

> His eyes are like gems. They’re my favorite color; I want to gouge them out.

>

> His lips are so soft. Even though it’s been a long, long time since I’ve kissed them, I know. I can tell just by looking.

>

> I should leave a few clues, otherwise it might be a bit hard for him to notice.

Lucian stared at that last line for a long time. The handwriting there was lighter, almost casual, like a quickly jotted-down note to self. But the tone… that matter-of-fact manner, as if a predator toying with its prey…

‘Does World Serpent really have someone like this?’

Lucian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as a cold, half-formed thought began to surface in his mind. He pushed it down and kept reading.

> I dreamed of him today. Dreamed of him holding me.

>

> I want to touch his face. Want to pin him to the bed so he can’t go anywhere.

>

> But I can’t. It would scare him.

>

> Wait a bit longer. Just a bit longer.

Lucian’s fingers curled into tight fists at his sides. The words were a secret confession and a dangerous warning all at once. The possessiveness seeping through the ink was so thick it felt as if it might drip off the whiteboard and pool on the floor.

His hand rose unconsciously, his fingertips hovering inches from the board’s cold surface. He wanted to touch it, to confirm it was real, but he stopped himself.

“Mr. Lucian?” Rita’s voice, laced with a hint of concern, drifted from behind him. “The five minutes are up. Are you alright?”

Lucian didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes fixed on the chilling script. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Durandal walked down the last few steps, coming to a stop beside him. Her gaze fell on the whiteboard, and her brow furrowed. “This is…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but a solemn, troubled look had already settled in her eyes. The handwriting, the sheer obsession on display—it all pointed to a very specific, and very disturbing, conclusion.

“Is this person sick in the head?”

Lucian’s voice was soft, yet carried an unnerving certainty. “…It’s someone who knows me very well.”

Rita approached the whiteboard, her gaze methodically scanning the text. Her expression remained professionally calm, but a flicker of complex emotion—pity, perhaps, or disgust—crossed her wine-red eyes.

“Judging by the pressure and distribution of the ink, these words weren’t written all at once,” she observed, her finger pointing gently toward a corner of the board. “The handwriting here is newer than the rest.”

She paused, seeming to weigh her next words carefully. “And… this person’s obsession with you is very, very deep.”

Lucian didn’t answer. He just stood there, his gaze still locked on the writing. His Adam’s apple bobbed again as his eyes found a new section of text.

> I know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering who I am. He’s wondering why I wrote these.

>

> He will find out soon.

>

> When he sees me, he will know.

>

> My Lucian.

>

> Mine.

Lucian stood before the whiteboard, silent for a long time. Rita and Durandal flanked him, respecting his silence. The entire basement was deathly quiet, save for the faint, sterile hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

After what felt like an eternity, Lucian finally spoke, his voice raspy. “This person… has known me for a long time.”

Rita nodded. “Based on the content of this writing, her understanding of you far exceeds that of an average person.” She tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps… even more than you realize yourself.”

Lucian offered no reply. He just stared at the board, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.

Who was it? Who would write something like this about him? Who could harbor such a deep, twisted obsession?

He didn’t know. If it were even possible, it could only be a romantic debt incurred when he traveled back to the past. If a future version of himself had journeyed through time, who would he have met there? Within World Serpent, who could it be?

Several names flashed through his mind.

Raven? No. The pragmatic mercenary was all business, ruthlessly efficient. She would never waste ink on something so… sentimental, so deranged.

Jackal? Even less likely. The mad scientist was obsessed only with her research into Honkai Beasts; human emotions were a data set she had no interest in collecting.

Hare…

Lucian’s brow furrowed. His thoughts snagged on that more plausible, and more troubling, name. If he had traveled back to the Second Honkai Eruption, if he had failed to save Cecilia but had somehow managed to save her… could this be the result?

He thought about it, then shook his head, trying to clear the fog of conjecture that was clouding his judgment. He didn’t know. His thoughts were becoming a tangled mess.

“What are you thinking about?” Durandal’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

Lucian turned his head, his eyes meeting her steady gaze. “Thinking about… who this person is,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the whiteboard. “This person knows me very well. Not the kind of ‘knowing’ you get from observation records, but truly knowing me.”

Durandal looked at him, her expression unreadable, and said nothing.

Rita, standing on his other side, continued her analysis. “Based on this content, her feelings for you are very complex,” she murmured, her voice soft but exceptionally clear in the silence. “There is possessiveness, obsession, and a certain, almost pathological attachment… but at the same time, it’s very restrained.”

She paused, her gaze falling on Lucian’s pale face. “She clearly wants to approach you, yet she’s forcing herself to wait. Mr. Lucian, have you thought of anyone?”

Lucian was silent for a few seconds.

Then he shook his head. “No.” His voice was dry, strained. “Among the people I know, there is no one like this. At least… not right now.”

Rita nodded, sensing it was best not to press the issue.

The basement fell quiet once more.

Finally, Lucian looked away from the whiteboard, his shoulders slumping slightly as he reached up to rub his temples. “Let’s leave first…”

He turned and walked toward the stairs, his steps heavy. After a few paces, however, he stopped and turned back to look at Rita.

“Right,” he said, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual composure. “Can you find someone to help me take the other documents in this room?”

Rita offered a perfectly composed, yet reassuring smile. “Of course.”