Did True Crime Influence Yandere Simulator'S Storyline?

I am a doctor. One day, I come across a weird patient when I am on duty. The first thing she says when she sees me isn't that she feels unwell somewhere. Instead, she says something hair-raising. "Dr. Cantrell, your girlfriend is a murderer." "What nonsense are you spouting?" I shoot back with widened eyes and shoot up from my chair. I feel offended. She calmly says, "She won't be home tonight because she needs to deal with the body. You will know whether what I say is true by tonight."

My sister, Yvonne Jones, tried to murder the childhood friend of a rich heir in order to seduce him. Yvonne poisoned the woman's drink and pulled out her oxygen tube after she was sent to the hospital. When the rich heir arrived in a rush, Yvonne cried in his arms daintily. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I failed to protect her." I witnessed everything in the ward but didn't say a word about it. In my previous lifetime, I stopped Yvonne from poisoning the woman. I knew the rich heir would never let her get away with it if he found out about it. Yvonne was forced to give up her plan and even praised me for my foresight. However, she ended up poisoning me instead and stabbed me in the heart with her dagger when I got dizzy. "This is your fault! Die! If you hadn't stopped me, Sean Graham would've been mine!" When I opened my eyes next, I had returned to the day of the poisoning.

Dita's fate changed drastically after meeting a handsome, but cruel guy. She accidentally witnessed him torturing his victim in an empty house at night. And unfortunately, she was caught. Since the night after the incident, her life became unsettled when it turned out that the guy was after her. What is Dita's fate after meeting a Psychopath guy who likes to torture, not even hesitating to kill his victims. Will she be able to escape from him? Note: This is a high school teen story

Desperate for money, I planned a livestream exploring the home of a notorious serial killer in the dead of night. I thought it would be nothing more than a publicity stunt to attract viewers. I was wrong. What started as a reckless grab for attention turned into the most terrifying night of my life and a brutal lesson in what it truly meant to stare death in the face.

I was a housewife with severe OCD and a serious cleanliness obsession. I accidentally entered what I thought was a wholesome parenting game where I beat the crap out of my rebellious son, smothered my adorable daughter with love, and ripped out the corpse-stitching on my husband to sew him back up. On the day I cleared the game, the three of them tearfully sent me off. Only during the final settlement did I learn the truth: my husband was the ultimate boss of the horror game. My son was an infamous demon who left no players alive, and my daughter had crushed the skulls of a hundred players. Wasn't this supposed to be a parenting game? Turns out, I had walked straight into a horror game.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.