OCDRF 06

Chapter 6

 Starting a Business Using My Medical Degree

I had thought it strange from the very beginning when she didn’t come to visit me while I was sick, claiming to be my only friend—only to find out we were contract friends.

A sudden sting of tears threatened to prick at my eyes.

Clover shrugged her shoulders and spoke with a confident, triumphant tone.

“Isn’t it convenient and nice that I always carry the contract around with me?”

“Right. Thanks.”

The paper was covered in smudge marks from being unfolded and read so many times.

She must have cherished it dearly.

With a gaze full of deep pity, I read through the very first clause of the contract.

1. Party A shall listen attentively whenever Party B speaks of the Grand Duke. However, the frequency of such conversations is strictly limited to once per month.

The handwriting for this part was different, suggesting it was a recently added clause.

Right after that, another clause caught my eye.

All financial and monetary transactions between the parties are strictly prohibited.

I couldn’t afford to lose a friend I had to make through a formal contract, especially not right after turning out to be completely penniless.

I rolled the parchment back up and handed it back to Clover.

It was both heartbreaking and achingly sad.

Indeed, if you peered too closely into anyone’s life, tragedy was bound to be staring right back at you.

“So, when are we going to have our monthly conversation about the Grand Duke?”

“Forget about that. Why don’t you talk about yourself today?”

“Why bother? You aren’t even interested, are you?”

“We’re friends, so of course I’m interested. You can talk about your worries or anything else.”

Because of my profession, I had always found listening far easier than speaking.

Especially if the topic wasn’t about the Grand Duke.

Wouldn’t Clover find it much more enjoyable to talk about her own life rather than listening to endless praise of him?

When I looked at her with an involuntary spark of anticipation, Clover put her teacup down with an expression of utter disgust. “Why are you looking at me so weirdly all of a sudden? Just stick to what’s written in the contract.”

………………That wasn’t going to be easy.

In truth, I was an introverted person who was just as devoid of friends as she was.

After starting my residency in the emergency room, I had lost touch even with the few high school friends I had managed to keep.

The friend I had considered my closest had once lashed out at me over the phone.

-Being busy is just an excuse, isn’t it? I know you’re looking down on us.

“That’s not it……”

-You don’t even care how I’m doing. Can you even call yourself a friend?

By the time I realized something had gone terribly wrong, so many misunderstandings had piled up between us that turning back was impossible.

I looked at Clover, who was restlessly twisting her fingers, and said,

“Even without a contract, I want to keep being your friend. So, will you tell me your story now?” It felt as though Liviat must have felt the exact same way, even if she had never managed to express it properly.

Clover flinched, her back jerking stiffly as she raised an eyebrow.

She looked as fierce as an agitated cat with all its fur standing on end.

“Ha! Even if you say that, our relationship is literally nothing more than a scrap of paper!”

“If that’s the case, we can just build a proper relationship starting right now.”

“You are seriously weird, you know that?”

“Yes. I know.”

Just as Betty had said, it really seemed like it was time to forge some new bonds.

I need to summon up some courage, too.

I softened the corners of my eyes and gave Clover a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Thank you for always carrying the contract around so carefully.”

“……Knowing is enough.”

The tips of Clover’s ears turned bright red as she lowered her head, still clutching her teacup.

Now, I suppose I just wait.

Unaccustomed to opening up and sharing her inner thoughts, Clover remained silent for quite a long time. Before long, the worries she finally poured out proved to be far heavier than I had anticipated.

“Ever since I got married, it feels like I’ve somehow vanished… and I feel completely suffocated.”

“Have you talked to your husband about this?”

“No. I was afraid he’d think I was acting like a childish brat.”

Clover’s husband, Marquis Lucid, was renowned for being a thoroughly gentlemanly figure.

The fact that a man of his stature had proposed to Clover, a mere Baron’s daughter, was still whispered about as an “unexpected scandal” across high society.

A glamorous marriage with a dashing husband that everyone envied.

“How should I put it? It feels like the real me is slowly disappearing piece by piece.”

All sorts of envy and jealousy had been relentlessly directed at the young bride.

Lacking the seasoned cunning required to navigate aristocratic circles, Clover had quickly become the laughingstock of the social season.

She wanted to remain remembered as “Young Lady Clover” rather than “the Marchioness.”

“It feels like I’ve already failed completely at being a Marchioness.” “You are simply yourself, nothing more and nothing less.”

At my words, Clover stared at me in a daze before her brow furrowed in confusion.

A moment later, her rigid shoulders finally slumped.

With an awkward expression, she touched the corner of her lips and muttered,

“……That’s strange. Now that I’ve actually said it out loud, it feels like I can breathe a little easier.”

Clover narrowed her eyes.

“Wait, have you always been this good at listening to people?”

Without answering, I just smiled gently and pushed a plate of cookies toward her.

She really is sharper than she looks.

Even after reading the diary, acting exactly like Liviat proved to be quite a challenge.

With her cheeks stuffed full of cookies, Clover chewed thoughtfully and asked,

“Can I come over to talk again next time?”

“Anytime.” “It would be nice if there was a safe place where people could honestly share what’s weighing on their hearts.”

At those words, a sudden business idea flashed brilliantly through my mind.

There was no way Clover was the only one suffering from such hidden burdens.

What if I opened a psychological counseling center?

While opening a full hospital might be out of reach, a counseling clinic might actually be feasible.

It would be the perfect opportunity to utilize my psychiatry major to help the people of this world.

I began to flesh out the vague idea that had popped into my head.

In such a closed-off aristocratic society, laying bare one’s inner troubles was widely regarded as publicly advertising one’s weaknesses.

Because of this, a common phrase had become wildly popular in high society:

“This isn’t about me, but a friend of a friend of mine, you see……………….”

Stories starting roughly like this were, more often than not, about the speaker themselves.

I recalled what Clover had explained to me about the unspoken rules of the nobility.

“Mental illness? People automatically assume something like that must be a curse from the gods. Say one wrong word, and you might even find yourself hauled in for an inquisition.”

“An inquisition, you say?”

“Unlike a physical illness, mental suffering is viewed as a punishment from the gods for a flawed moral character. Everyone is terrified of being diagnosed with it.”

If an inquisition got involved, one could easily be stripped of their noble title entirely.

Consequently, aristocrats went to great lengths to desperately conceal any signs of psychological distress.

Especially if the affliction was of a kind that defied simple explanation.

“If someone desperately needs to confide in another, they use a contract. Since contracts are bound by actual magic, breaking them is impossible.”

The friendship contract I had signed with Clover was simply an extension of that very custom.

The market demand for this should be immense.

The more people were forced to keep their inner struggles hidden, the deeper those wounds would fester.

What if there was a safe space where they could confess their worries with guaranteed, absolute confidentiality?

And what if, on top of that, they received proper psychological guidance and tailored treatment?

“This world desperately needs a sanctuary where people can take off their masks and lay their hearts bare.”

Could I make it work by applying my background as a psychiatric specialist?

I opened the drawer and pulled out a draft of the contract I had personally written to prepare for the clinic’s opening.

All information shared herein shall not be disclosed to any third party under any circumstances, nor shall it be utilized for any purpose other than the treatment of psychological ailments.

In my original world, maintaining absolute confidentiality during counseling sessions was fundamental.

Here, I intended to use magical contracts to strictly enforce that confidentiality in place of modern legal frameworks.

I tucked the contract back into the drawer and rang the small silver bell to summon Betty.

“Betty, please help me get ready to go out.” At the news of her mistress going out after so long, Betty’s face brightened considerably.

As she happily helped me dress, she finally asked a curious question.

“By the way, where are you planning to go, Young Lady?”

“To the pawnshop.”

Chatting with Clover had brought a certain business card I had seen in the diary back to the forefront of my mind.

The Cosmos Pawnshop, was it?

Since a pawnshop allowed people to borrow money by leaving items of value as collateral, I wouldn’t have to worry about my current debt status being checked.

Looking as though my words had physically struck her, Betty froze before finally forcing herself to speak.

“Young Lady, wouldn’t it be dangerous to increase your debts even further like this?”

“I’m planning to sell the items outright, not pawn them for a loan. So it won’t be a debt.”

“What on earth are you planning to sell?”

I hadn’t discarded every single memento related to the Grand Duke (mostly his stalker collection).

However, I had intentionally kept items of undeniable value, such as a pair of custom cufflinks he had worn or a gem-encrusted silver goblet.

Disposing of these particular items wouldn’t weigh on my conscience in the slightest.

“I’m going to sell off the remaining collection of items associated with the Grand Duke.”

“Young Lady, are you truly certain it’s alright to sell those? Those are your most treasured possessions……………….”

“They’re stolen-goods-adjacent contraband, technically speaking.”

Pawnshops didn’t immediately turn around and liquidate deposited items; they held onto them for a mandated holding period.

The maximum grace period was one full year.

That means at least for a year, nobody will be able to trace the origin of these items.

The moment I stepped foot into a commercial lending agency or a traditional bank, there was a high risk that the news would instantly reach the Grand Duke.

Given the original plot, he likely had informants constantly feeding him reports on his former fiancée.

In a business like this, keeping one’s identity completely under wraps was essential for survival.

“Tell my father I went out to purchase some specialty desserts.”

“Yes, Young Lady.”

I sincerely hoped everything would go according to plan.

All preparations complete, Betty and I set off toward the pawnshop.