Ethobot's yanderes

The redstone dust hissed as Etho placed the final torch, the soft glow illuminating the intricate circuitry of his latest storage contraption. It was quiet—the kind of profound, heavy silence that only existed in the deep layers of the world when one was playing alone. He hummed a tuneless melody under his breath, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he adjusted a repeater. For Etho, this was the pinnacle of relaxation. No chaos, no explosions, just the logic of the game and the steady beat of his own heart.

He stood back, adjusting his mask and wiping a smudge of digital grime from his goggles. "That should do it," he murmured to the empty room. "Efficiency at its finest."

He moved toward his kitchen area to grab a golden carrot, entirely unaware that through the reinforced glass of his balcony, three pairs of eyes were fixed intently on the back of his head.

Outside, crouched behind a cluster of azalea bushes, the girls held their breath. They were huddled together, their armor muffled by leather padding to ensure not a single clink alerted their quarry.

"Look at how he organizes the chests," one of them whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and something much sharper. "He’s so methodical. Every movement is perfect."

"I saw him look toward the window," another hissed, pulling her hood lower. "Do you think he knows? If he knows, I might actually faint."

"He doesn't know," the third replied, her grip tightening on a silk-touch pickaxe that had 'Etho's Property' carved—unofficially—into the handle. "He’s in his own world. That’s what makes him beautiful. He’s so focused on his machines that he doesn't realize he’s the only machine we care about."

They watched him eat, their giggles muffled by their hands. Every time Etho tilted his head or shifted his weight, a fresh wave of stifled excitement rippled through the group. To them, he wasn't just a player; he was a masterpiece in motion, an enigma wrapped in a green vest and a tactical mask. They didn't want to talk to him—not yet. They wanted to consume the image of him, to catalog his habits until they knew him better than he knew himself.

Inside, Etho stretched his arms over his head, a joint popping audibly. "A bit stiff," he muttered. "Maybe a change of pace is needed. I’m running low on copper for the lightning rods."

He began tossing supplies into his shulker boxes. He moved with a casual grace, oblivious to the fact that every item he packed was being noted down in a leather-bound journal outside.

"He’s leaving," the first girl whispered, her eyes wide. "He’s going to the caves. This is it."

"Keep back," the leader warned. "If he catches a glimpse of us, the game is over. We stay in the shadows. We stay in the walls."

The following morning, the sun broke over the horizon in a square of brilliant gold. Etho stepped out of his front door, squinting against the light. He took a deep breath of the morning air, noting the way the dew sat on the grass. To his eyes, everything looked normal. He didn't notice the slightly disturbed dirt near his bushes, nor the faint scent of a potion of invisibility that had lingered just a second too long in the breeze.

"Right. Mining day," Etho said, checking his coordinates.

He set off at a brisk pace toward a massive ravine several hundred blocks away. He liked this particular spot; it was deep, jagged, and usually teeming with the resources he needed. As he walked, he hummed that same low tune, his boots rhythmically hitting the grass.

Behind him, weaving through the trees with the synchronized precision of a hunting pack, the girls followed. They moved when he moved, stopped when he stopped, and melted into the landscape whenever he paused to check his map. They were a shadow he couldn't see, a collective breath he couldn't hear.

When Etho reached the mouth of the cave, he didn't hesitate. He tossed a rope down and descended into the darkness. The temperature dropped instantly, the air turning damp and smelling of wet stone and iron.

"He’s going deep," one of the girls whispered, peering over the edge of the ravine as Etho’s torchlight became a receding star in the abyss. "He’s so brave. Most people wouldn't go down there without a full squad."

"He doesn't need a squad," the second girl said, her voice dropping to a reverent tone. "He has us. He just doesn't know it yet."

They descended after him, using slow-falling potions to drift down like feathers, landing silently on the rocky ledges above where he worked.

Etho began to mine. The rhythmic *clink-clink-clink* of his pickaxe echoed through the cavern. He was in the zone, his eyes scanning the walls for the telltale glint of ore. He moved deeper into the winding tunnels, placing torches at regular intervals. He was a professional; he cleared corners, checked for creepers, and kept his back to the wall.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

He reached a large vein of raw copper embedded in the ceiling. He built a small dirt pillar to reach it, his focus entirely on the task at hand. Above him, tucked into a narrow crevice in the ceiling, the girls watched from a distance of mere blocks. They were so close they could see the frayed stitching on his shoulder pads.

"I want a lock of his hair," the youngest of the three whispered, her eyes glazed with obsession. "Just one. I’d put it in a frame made of diamond."

"Shh!" the leader snapped quietly. "You’ll startle him. Look, he’s found something."

Etho had stopped mining. He stood still, his head tilted to the side. The girls froze, their hearts hammering against their ribs. Had they been too loud? Had the scent of their armor given them away?

Etho turned around slowly, scanning the dark tunnel behind him. He raised a torch high, the light flickering against the damp stone walls.

"Hello?" Etho called out. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in it. "Is someone there? Beef? Pause?"

The girls pressed themselves further into the shadows, their bodies trembling. One of them bit her lip so hard it bled, desperate to keep from making a sound. The silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating.

Etho shrugged after a moment. "Must be the cave sounds. They really nailed the atmosphere in this update."

He turned back to his copper vein, the rhythmic mining resuming.

The girls exhaled in a collective, silent shudder of relief. The danger of being caught only fueled the fire. It made the stalking feel like a holy mission. They watched him for hours, recording every sigh, every small grunt of effort, and every time he paused to check his inventory.

As Etho moved into a deeper chamber, he stumbled upon a cluster of glowing lichen. The soft blue light cast long, dancing shadows across his face. He paused, looking at the display with a genuine, small smile that reached his eyes—the kind of look he rarely showed the world.

"Beautiful," he whispered to himself.

Up on the ledge, one of the girls clutched her chest. "He smiled," she gasped, her voice barely a thread of sound. "He smiled at the light. He’s so sensitive. So misunderstood."

"He’s perfect," the other agreed. "We have to make sure no one else ever sees him like this. This moment belongs to us."

Etho finished his haul, his shulker boxes heavy with ore. He wiped his brow and began the long trek back to the surface. He was tired but satisfied, his mind already calculating the redstone throughput for his new copper-based project.

As he climbed out of the ravine and stepped back into the orange glow of the setting sun, he felt a strange sensation—a prickle on the back of his neck. He stopped and looked back at the dark maw of the cave.

"Strange day," he muttered, shaking his head. "I feel like I'm being watched by a dozen ghosts."

He laughed at his own paranoia and began the walk home.

Behind him, three silhouettes emerged from the cave entrance. They didn't follow him back to his house this time. Instead, they stood in a line, watching his figure grow smaller on the horizon.

"Tomorrow?" one asked.

"Tomorrow," the leader confirmed, clutching a small piece of stone Etho had discarded during his mining. It was worthless to a player, but to her, it was a relic. "He’s going to work on the farm tomorrow. We’ll need to be in the water for that. Bring the breathing potions."

They vanished into the trees as the first stars began to twinkle, leaving the server in a deceptive peace. Etho reached his front door, kicked the dirt off his boots, and went inside, locking the door behind him. He felt safe. He felt alone.

He was neither.