Mistress Lou

Sure, the world building seemed intimidating. Overblots, dark romance, whatnot . . but you just wanted an itsy-bitsy piece of the guilty pleasure, nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t everyday you stumbled upon a game with ridiculously well-crafted and deep characters, after all.

Well . . . now you have no purpose whatsoever, and you mean that in a philosophical sense. Before Yuu, the story goes as follows. You, the nameless villainess, were the only girl in Night Raven, naturally, somewhere in the developer's office, someone decided the pinnacle of storytelling was making two girls hate each other's guts.  It’s a concept you don’t like, even more so when all the odds are stacked against you, and sometimes it even gets tiring, because the pre-determined  dialogue and choices set for Yuu give them a somewhat timid appearance. Grow a backbone! There is an insane power imbalance, you see — and of course they’re going to need extra protection from all their knights in shining armor.

The greatest odd against you, however, is the dorm that’s been chosen for you. 

Knock, knock, knock!

Knuckles drumming against the door, you are roused from your sleep. Bright, lambent sunlight seeps in from the windows, the peak wherein your room’s inundated with a glow so much like a cherub’s tear, attacking your eyes and reminding you, you have no business being up at the ass crack at dawn.

Unless . .  

Title Unlocked — Headless Maiden.

You died! Riddle wanted it to be off with your head. Shame he took it so literally. 

You died again.

You recoil. Images. Images are what you see. A gaggle of memories flooding your brain, crimson’s brutish spread meandering down the crucible of your throat in sprays. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. And it still hurts, a burn so real you realize a scream thrashes at the apex of your tongue until it blurs into a half-choked sob of misery, where your hands are coaxed towards your esophagus, trying to alleviate the sharp phantom’s touch. You have sprung upright, and the bed creaking beneath the sudden weight reminds you someone is still knocking at your door, the door to your room, the room where you’ve died so many times..

The room that’s now stripped of everything. 

Everything is white, as is every respawn. Every single trinket, achievement or personal belonging has now been reset, making you stare at a swathe of the sort of white you’d find in hospitals or an asylum’s padded room. No!  You’d worked so hard at Crisp ‘n dips trying to afford that one lipstick, and now it’s all gone. Every single thing you’d worked your bones off for are nowhere to be seen, thrown into the system’s savage bin, and once again, you suppress a bitter laugh from bubbling over, they truly spare you no pity. 

“Miss?”

Miss. That’s what they call you here. Miss, because you have no name attached to you. Shuffling off your bed and realizing just how enervated you must look, you slowly open the door, peaking through the gap. 

Luckily, it’s just a second year. 

“Housewarden Schoenheit wants everyone to be up and ready. Take a shower, trim your nails, iron your orientation robes.. And—er..”

“And make sure not a single strand is overlooked.”

“Yes, that’s right!”

Your respawn point is orientation. Well, before it. Due to such unadulterated generosity, you are given a few hours of respite before all hell breaks loose and takes you up into its flames. 

A few hours. 

Darkness greeted you before anything else—a thick, suffocating void that swallowed up a light that had a chance of entering, an absolute void on all sides of you. Shadows bled into each other until the world became a formless abyss. And, to be fair, there was nothing else. You stood in the center of nowhere.

But how did this happen? Were you dreaming? It didn’t feel like a dream- no, no, this felt very much so real. But… how?

It wasn’t as if you’d performed some grand ritual or done anything extraordinary at all before sleep claimed you. Actually, it was quite the opposite, since hours earlier, you’d listlessly scrolled through your TikTok notifications on Twisted Like Heaven’s main account, sifting through comments about the new update—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should have summoned you to this place. Freshly graduated and rolling in money, your days blurred together in a haze of idleness and dissatisfaction, each moment more hollow than the last.

This place… You weren’t even sure if this was reality, and if this was happening, wherever you were wasn't a figment of your dream-like imagination– the drop in your stomach felt more real than wherever you were.

You took a step, and then another; your body felt like mush, almost like a really bad hangover that had you slow and groggy, and left you with a dull, aching pain that seemed to sit in every bone of your body.

You couldn’t think; you could barely move. Your steps were tiny, fractured, and it took all the strength in your body to move barely an inch from where you began. 

What. the. Fuck. Was. happening.

[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…] Welcome, Player.

Loading route data… Loading protagonist…

ERROR: “YUU” NOT FOUND

No protagonist found.

Attempting replacement. 

Reassigning narrative anchor…

…

What the hell does that mean?

…

….

[NARRATIVE INSTABILITY DETECTED]

[PROCEED: ENTITY RECOGNITION FAILURE]

[RESOLUTION: IMMEDIATE RECONSTRUCTION INITIATED] 

[SIDE CHARACTER ROLE: LOCKED]

What—

That’s it. Literally, your vision completely cut out, there was no more liminal space, no system updates. Just… nothing. It was eerie in a way, the calmness that settled in your chest, which felt like it shouldn't have been there, but was. It was peaceful; you had no control over it, yet you didn't care. You weren't thinking about your dream, or not-dream, or anything at all. It was all just nonexistent— like all your worries from before had evaporated.

…

This vague calm, of course, did not last long.

Immediately, confusion rushed through you. You could hear laughter; you could hear it, yet you couldn't see it. You couldn't see anything. There were footsteps, and then more, and people talking in some distant place– a place that you couldn't see, only hear— almost as if you were there with them, and yet, you weren't. No space was attached.

Where were you?

You blinked, and in that half a second, the inkiness in your gaze disappeared, and you saw it– the dots covering your eyes melted away, showing… a hallway? A big one, with green lanterns– not even lanterns– fire in places of torches; there were people dressed in strange uniforms,  and speaking things that you couldn't comprehend. 

Why did this feel so real? 

You blinked again, and thin, glitching lines cut across your vision for a split second before vanishing. Your body still barely responded. You couldn't move. You couldn't feel. You could only gaze numbly and watch.

An abrupt chill hit your body, like, really fucking cold. Sharp and immediate, it was like the air stabbed into your skin with tiny little bullets; you felt the flesh prickle, your body shook like it was covered in ice. You shifted your head slowly. It still ached to move, but not nearly as much as before. You pulled your arms in, instinctively wrapping yourself uselessly in your own feeble attempt at an embrace.  Why was it so cold in here?

 Your body finally began to catch up—still sluggish, stiff, and wrong– but you could now look around, no matter how aimlessly, and take your surroundings in. Girls and boys were rushing through the corridor like a stream; some looked happy, laughing with their friends— all of whom were wearing similar strange uniforms- and others resembled stone-faced students who just wanted to get to class.

You stared down into your hands for a moment, then around again.

You gaped at one of the large, mahogany doors, the intricate designs that ran down each one— the grey astragal that connected the two was large and ornate— just like everything else around you. You took in the stone-piled walls that surrounded each door that descended down the hallway; all four sides of you seemed to loom over your figure. You felt exceptionally small as your feet carried you forward. This was an expensive high school.

You scanned over the faces of the people again, but this time, your breathing stopped. For a fraction of a second, only a moment, everything halted. Foots ceased to move, mouths seemed to have been frozen mid-conversation, and for just the slightest moment, every single head in the hallway turned slightly towards you. Not watching, not exactly, but almost as if they were all collectively checking if you were there.

You took a step back. There was definitely something wrong in this place. Everything turned back to normal in just a second. 

SYSTEM CORRECTION: RESUME NORMAL ACTIVITY 

Everything resumed instantly, almost like nothing had happened. Footsteps carried on, and people chattered up once again, turning away from you completely. Except you saw it! Why were those words in front of you? Why couldn't anyone else see them?

You were so enraptured in your own- what would you even call it? Hallucination? Weird system talking to you? Whatever the fuck just happened, you were too overwhelmed and distraught, you missed the person next to you almost completely.

He was tall, blonde, handsome, even– and maybe you would’ve noticed that if you weren’t already in total shock. 

“Hey, you there, [Na–” his eyes glaze over. Silence. “Forget it.”

And then he walked away. Just completely stopped talking to you and walked away! Your heart felt like it might explode from the speed at which it hammered in your chest, and your breathing was shallow and ragged.

“Excuse me?” You breathe out.

He keeps walking.

You didn't even realize someone was walking right into you before it was too late… No, like, literally through you. They didn’t even flinch. No reaction or acknowledgement… it was almost as if you weren’t even physically rendered as an obstacle. You didn't know how to react. Why was there so much going on right now?

Another moment, and all the sounds of chatter drop; the scene shifts slightly back to how it was before, and all the lights around you go back to normal– like reality rewound for a second and then snapped back into place.

COMPENSATION COMPLETE. 

A sharp impact jolts your shoulder. It’s not violent enough to hurt properly, but enough to prove two things— whoever did that was an asshole, and the fact that you were physically here now.

“—Tch. Move.”

A tall figure brushes past you, adjusting his course at the last second like you were a random person he didn’t want to or need to give a second thought about.

You stagger half a step, but he pauses his footsteps, stopping vaguely. “…You there?”

The voice is low. Controlled. Annoyed, but not emotional in any real sense.

You look up at the male, momentarily regaining your senses. He’s tall. Dark hair falls onto his shoulders as you look into his sharp, steady eyes. Well-put-together in a way that felt intentional.

He studied you for a moment too long and you shrunk under his gaze. “…[Name]?”

For a second, nothing happened. There’s no system interruption and no error. Just the question hanging there. You hesitated before responding; you don’t trust your own voice enough not to sound shaky just yet.

“…Yeah.”

A pause. Then a faint exhale through his nose—almost a whistle, almost amusement, but not quite either.

“Lock in,” he says flatly. “Crewel’s going to have your ass for skipping the past few days.”

He starts walking again, like the conversation is already finished, like it was never important. And like you were never unstable to begin with.

Wait. Crewel–?

—————————————————————

Finally, finally, you gathered your bearings. 

This school was like a maze —no, this was worse than a maze. Mazes at least made sense if you stared at them long enough. This place just… repeated itself. You were completely and utterly lost, genuinely. How could a building have so many twists and turns, and why, by God, did everything look the same? Every time you passed a framed portrait, you swore—swore—it changed when you looked away. A blink too long and the face wasn’t the same anymore. A tilt of your head, and the eyes weren’t looking where they were before.

Or maybe you were just losing it. That felt equally as likely.

A sound brushed the edge of your hearing—almost laughter. Almost. The kind of noise you weren’t sure you were meant to notice.

You stopped walking for a second.

Nothing changed, not even a little bit. Shut up, brain, stop freaking yourself out here.

You were going to give up; this was just too much. Your head throbbed violently in the corner of your skull, an intense, buzzing static pounded in your ears, and your legs felt like wood being dragged through a current. Every step was just one moment closer to absolutely losing your shit. You couldn’t even find a bathroom properly, to throw up or cry; you didn’t know which, probably both; whatever way your body chose to betray you this time.

You closed your eyes and leaned back for a moment against the cool stone walls, taking a deep breath through your nose, the chilled air now calming you just slightly. People were beginning to disappear into their classes, while you remained. 

The air shifted, not dramatically, just something changed.

The hallway sound didn’t stop, exactly. It just… delayed. Just a half a second behind, like a lag, and the sound was catching up. A student brushed past you—and for the briefest moment, their steps didn’t echo. And then they did.

You slowly opened your eyes, barely peeking through your dry eyelids. The corridor was still full. Still normal, definitely still alive. Just off. You couldn't look at this shit anymore. No matter where you went, something abnormal would happen. A faint pressure pressed against your awareness; it wasn't a voice or a sound, it was almost like a notification, but inside your head?

[ROUTE ASSIGNMENT COMPLETE]

You were exhausted; you didn't want to keep walking, your eyes flickering closed as you breathed in the newly empty hallway. The air was suffocating, or maybe you were imagining that, too?

“…[Name].”

You flinched, opening your eyes at the sharp tone. Lord, it momentarily brought you back to high school when a teacher caught you skipping class. Eugh.

The corridor resumed like it once was before, like it had been released, much like the deep breath you had been holding in. The green lights flickered down the halls, the once-blurred signs on the doors returning to something more normal— and readable. You turned your gaze to the figure— a fluffy black-and-white striped coat draped over his arms caught your eye instantly; the red velvet behind it seemed luxurious, and definitely out of any teacher's pay grade in your world. A similarly dyed side cut, matching suit with a sleek red tie, and matching dark eyes with an unimpressed frown on his face.

Oh. Oh no…

Crewel didn’t move immediately. His gaze stayed on you a moment too long—sharp, assessing, like he was calculating how bad he wanted to whip you for your disrespect.

"Professor…" you sigh, barely meeting his eyes. What a mess.

“…Strange.”

You hesitate, fidgeting with the sleeve of your uniform. How did you get yourself into this shit? “Excuse me?”

His whip lowered slightly, not relaxed—just no longer needed for the moment. “No recorded attendance for the past seventy-two hours, and you finally decided my class is important enough to attend- is that right, [Name]?”

Silence.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if something on an invisible list wasn’t matching up. “And, in a gesture of your very apparent care for your academics, you arrive late."

Your stomach dropped. “I— I’m just lost, I was trying to find—”

“Enough.”

It was only one word, clean and final. But not angry, per se, more corrective than anything. He exhaled through his nose, like this was an inconvenience he had dealt with before. “…Your negligence is becoming intolerable.”

His eyes sharpened once again, making you feel small under his gaze. What is wrong with you, [Name]? He's just a teacher. Well, yeah, but this wasn't exactly a normal circumstance. Sigh… what to do..

“You will accompany me to class.” You knew that wasn't a question.

"Broaden your mind," he huffed. "And use your inner eye to see the future."

Your feet moved before you had time to fully process it. This situation just kept getting worse and worse, but your panic was caught in your throat. Crewel could see you, say your name, and even order you around like he would anyone else. At least now, for the first time since you got here, you weren't wandering.

"This way. You will face your punishment at a later time."

You let out a breath and follow after him, his fur coat waving dramatically as you enter the room behind him. The classroom itself was nice— and unfamiliar— potion bottles lined the sides of the room, and piles of books just beside them. The students were chatting loudly just like before any class; it was normal. The first and almost only normal thing, it felt, since you got here.

Well, jokes on you, because would you look at that! Every single seat was taken by one person or another. Great, your day just kept getting worse and worse by the minute.

Crewel strode over to the front of the classroom as you walked the front aisle slowly. You felt small and out of place, and you just wanted to go home. You glanced around one more time, making sure the only place left to sit was… right next to Floyd Leech and Epel Felmier. Why, oh why, did the universe hate you?

You took your seat slowly, noticing the bag on your shoulder for the first time in the entire past hour. Was that always there? Whatever, you sat down in your seat, keeping your head down in the slightest way.

[SIDE CHARACTER POSITION CONFIRMED]

You freeze, obviously, and groan internally.

Cool. Fantastic. Whatever the hell that means. Was this thing gonna keep popping up every time you do anything? Right, okay, side character, alright, you get it. You glanced around, praying for the love of everything good, not to have Floyd Leech notice you. The last thing you needed right now was that menace breathing down your neck, or worse, trying to squeeze you.

Nothing happened, thankfully; no one stares at the UI message or anything like that. Nothing glitched or exploded; it simply faded away. That almost feels worse, almost.

Crewel set down his books loudly and cleared his throat with an ehem!. The whole class went silent with impressive vigor, straightening themselves and looking towards the teacher— yeah, maybe Night Raven College was a bit different from high school after all.

"...Since some of you seem to believe punctuality is optional..." His eyes flicked toward you for half a second.

"...I trust no one will repeat today's display."

Hahaahahaahahah! Great! Awesome! Public humiliation in the first hour of the day! Ten out of ten, truly.

Okay, [Name], get a grip. Potion class. Easy. Lessons in Twisted are normal.

The lecture began, and you rolled your eyes and cried to yourself. You already finished high school! You'd already forgotten what a bore it was. Whatever. What choice do you have anyway?

The lesson dragged on, Crewel's voice droning on and on about some mystical plant(?) Really, you were more focused on doodling in your notebook than actually paying attention. You couldn't focus on some potion lesson even if you tried. To be fair, you'd been magically transported to Twisted Wonderland of all places, and honestly, that didn't seem like the worst possible thing. I mean, it could've been like Chainsaw Man or something. Now that would've been a nightmare.

Regardless, Crewel's voice droned on and on, which really only served as background noise to your inner turmoil. Yuu not found, huh? It was crazy, you still weren't completely positive you weren't hallucinating all this. But in some way or another, it really just felt like you were trapped in some unstable, potentially unfinished version of the game.

"Leech," Crewel called suddenly.

Floyd, who had spent the better part of the lesson absentmindedly spinning a glass stirring rod between your fingers, didn't even bother looking up.

"Hm?"

"If your attention has drifted so far from today's lesson that you believe yourself qualified to teach it," Crewel drawled, resting one hand atop his desk, "perhaps you'd like to explain the proper preparation of a Sea Witch's Bloom."

The classroom went silent.

Floyd blinked. "...Nope."

"Then kindly refrain from demonstrating to your classmates the remarkable hereditary talent of the Leech family to occupy space while contributing absolutely nothing."

Your pencil stopped moving.

No.

No fucking way.

Discord — #intro-build

papameatstoe: canon crewel isnt enough of a menace highk make him a bit meaner

coffeeoakname: LMFAO alr

papameatstoe: Make him sound like a total ass like a mr. hemlier in chem when he'd fuck with ppl for no reason

coffeeoakname: BRO DONT REMIND ME… the incident….

coffeeoakname: and yh bet i got u

"Then kindly refrain from demonstrating to your classmates the remarkable hereditary talent of the Leech family to occupy space while contributing absolutely nothing."

papameatstoe: OMG ID CRY

silverfish: POOR FLOYD DUDE THAT'S SO SCARY

coffeeoakname: dada crewel will be a dick

The memory vanished as quickly as it appeared, your heart dropping to your stomach in an instant. There was no way, right? You stared blankly at the front of the class.

"No…" You whispered under your breath.

That line was not written by Disney, it wasn't even in Twisted Wonderland. That was your line; you wrote that. Not inspired by it, not similar— literally word for word. A cold knot twisted itself inside your stomach. You could be sick right now.

If you were the one who wrote that, and Crewel just said it to Floyd, of all people. This was Twisted Like Heaven.

Also known as the unfinished build, the one with placeholder routes.

The one your friends had spent months stuffing with inside jokes, dialogue rewrites, hidden flags, and two hundred different ways to be killed, get other people murdered, kidnapped or imprisoned.

…

Oh, you were so unbelievably screwed.

The lecture resumed as it should have, and you stared blankly at the wooden desk in front of you. You couldn't even doodle anymore. The scratching of lead against paper filled the air as students took their notes, class clinked softly against tabletops, and behind you, Floyd laughed obnoxiously at something Epel muttered under his breath.

Everything continued exactly as it should, but your brain just refused to.

That wasn't canon. We changed that.

...We changed a lot of things.

Your fingers slowly tightened around your pencil. "...Shit."

How much had made it into the final build? How much had made it into the leaked build? How much had your friends written while you were asleep? Because you only handled parts of the dialogue!

The routes, the hidden endings, and the event flags.

Someone else had balanced affection values. Someone else had implemented bad endings.

Someone else had...

Your blood ran cold.

...I don't even know half this game.

Hai guys!! Ive been getting a lot of replies about the taglist, which I’m so glad you guys are liking the content! To make it easier for myself, there’s a taglist forum in my bio you can use, just to help me organize!! Love u guys🐰🐰

— Unlike this version, Riddle does a complete 180° in both his demeanor and how he is with you in a romantic relationship.

— Riddle is fairly loud and open when it comes to mentioning his relationship with you, at least every second person knows you're off limits since his mouth has been running along.

— It's not a bad thing, fret not, another major difference is that he is more bold in initiating any form of affection right when you're with him. It (often times) doesn't even matter if you both are out in public or not.

— Kisses are frequent and always happen throughout the day, maybe he'd even sneak in a makeout session if nobody is nearby or if he ushers you into a more hidden spot. Hugs ultimately turn into a form of greeting from his side since he made it his personal decision to not keep his hands off you.

— Due to this, it often leads to him having a small tendency and need to touch you in some shape or form, perhaps even invade your personal space while at it, but it's not like he hears you complaining either when he does that.

— An arm either thrown over your shoulder or around your waist, both hands wrapped around your arm while he pushes you closer towards him or he leans his entire weight onto you to nudge you into holding him while he can act all giddy in return.

— Or he just tells you to, works either way for him.

— Don't mind him if he does grow a bit pouty when some of his obvious signs (like tapping his cheek with his finger to earn a kiss from you) gets thrown over your head. He caves in too quickly if you make it up to him though.

"Hmph, you can be a bit blind sometimes! Come on, do it right here! Twice actually as compensation!"

— Riddle often likes to leave lipstick marks all across your face. On your cheeks, on your nose, on your forehead, your lips end up being his favorite spot to leave his marks on. He ends up giggling about it before acting as none of the actions he has done ever happened.

— He does grows a bit proud and delighted if the lipstick marks are still faintly there even with how many times you've washed your face, it just makes him want to kiss you all over again.

— He'd obnoxiously let out a loud muah sound every time, too. Riddle does this sometimes even if he's just giving you a simple kiss on the cheek, he ends up giggling over this as if it's the most funniest thing.

— Frankly, he's just all over you. What does he have to hide when you're all his as much as he is yours? It's not like there is a stupid rule (according to Riddle's words) that forbade him from doing so.

— But that should be enough on how open he is with basically pampering you in a more physical sense.

— Fret not, he does compliment you whenever he can. However, he does rather prefer to get all touchy with you instead of a few words thrown out without much thought into it.

— Riddle likes to message you a lot throughout the day, ranging between normal conversation to saying he wishes you were with him or outright saying you should come over and hang out with him.

— This does also include him asking via messages if you have time to stop by for his and Che'nya's surprise concert, goes out to say he'll even guarantee you a (non existent) front row seat for his performance if you come, even though they're all always somewhere in the middle of the streets.

"So I can look forward on you coming by, yes? Good. Come by a few minutes earlier though, I wanna see you! <3 love you!!!"

— Riddle wants you to have fun, too. So he might as well maybe drag you in and get you to sing a song with him, even if you might sound horribly off key, he'll laugh with you instead of laughing at you for your attempt.

— He'd hate to see you be actively bored when you're with him, how can he disappoint you when you're apart of his top priorities? So, Riddle might as well go above and beyond on his attempts till he sees you having fun. That's all that really matters to him.

— There are some attempts to being more romantic on a personal level. Riddle obviously isn't gonna stand low and go on a fancy dinner date of sorts, it's just utterly boring to him! And it probably will be boring to you, too.

— No, really, he'll maybe write a song dedicated to you, even though the whole thing might end up being disguised as a punk song, majority of his heart will be put into it since, even if it might end up being a short song, it is ultimately for you.

— He values your opinion on it if he does end up sharing it. Again, it's gonna be dedicated to you. He can't really consider it being romantic if you actively either look like you don't like it or even say it yourself.

— But, saying you do end up liking the song he made for you earns all sorts of joy out of him, even a small comment like "I knew you'd like it" would leave his mouth even though he was all jittery himself on the inside.

— If you like it that much, he can even consider humming it to you just to see if you recognize it (or if you are listening to his humming) in private when neither of you are doing anything. Points it out immediately when he catches you being attentive to what he was doing.

— Continues to hum right after pointing it out however, not that Riddle actually minds, he's fairly glad you like something he made for you this much.

— No amount of "I love you" or kissing you silly is enough to tell you how much admiration and love he holds for you.

— How has he gotten so lucky?