Chapter 8

I’m Opening a Counseling Office

After placing an advertisement in a religious newspaper, I finally opened my counseling office.

Because I had chosen a remote location to save on rent, there wasn’t a single customer in sight—not even an ant.

I looked around the shabby tent, pondering why I hadn’t received a single appointment.

“Should I have put more stars on the advertisement?”

Or perhaps I should decorate the tent a little more?

The previous owner of the street stall had apparently sold skewered meat in this very tent.

Maybe that was why there were burn marks scattered throughout it.

It still smells like meat.

Just as I was spraying perfume around the tent, Betty came rushing in.

“Miss, I think a man wearing a mask is coming here!”

“Maybe he’s trying to get to the bakery in the next alley? Their bread is cheap, so there was a line outside even this morning.”

“No, I’m telling you! He’s definitely a customer who came after seeing the advertisement!”

Even if he really was a customer, I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much.

For the first three days after opening, most of the people who came had been looking for the skewered meat stall that had already gone out of business!

Those had been some difficult days, as I seriously wondered whether I should change businesses.

“Ah, you don’t sell skewers anymore? You changed businesses? Then I’ll leave.”

“Three Kariman skewers. I’ll eat them here, so don’t bother wrapping them.”

“If you don’t sell skewers anymore, shouldn’t you put up a sign saying so?!”

The skewers must have been exceptionally good for people to come all the way out to this remote place looking for them.

Maybe I should’ve tried them before renting this place.

Still, judging from the fact that he was wearing a mask, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that he was some noble who had come seeking counseling.

All right. I shouldn’t get my hopes up only to be disappointed. Stay calm.

“Betty, do you think the customer will like strawberry-flavored candy? What about the cushions? Should I prepare some water for him in advance?”

Even after wiping the chair for guests with a dry towel, something still felt lacking.

“Maybe he’s the type who prefers sitting on the floor rather than on a chair.”

“Miss, please calm down.”

“I’m perfectly rational right now. Or would orange flavor be better?”

Just as I was taking another candy out of the jar, the customer arrived.

The man was wearing a crude wooden mask, and he was so tall that I had to tilt my head back to look at him.

Even beneath his shabby clothes, I could tell that he had a solid, well-built physique.

I touched the mask I wore for my own protection, making sure it was still secure, and said,

“If you’ve come to buy skewers, I’m afraid that business has closed.”

“Isn’t this a counseling office?”

I exchanged a quick glance with Betty before hurriedly getting to my feet.

He really is a customer!

The moment the man sat down, I handed him a questionnaire I had prepared myself.

Instead of taking it, he simply stared at it blankly.

“It asks about your current condition. Would you please answer as honestly as possible?”

“‘I feel down and depressed right now.’ You mean this?”

“Yes. You may have come here with a concern that’s difficult to talk about.”

Understanding a new patient’s condition was the first step of a consultation.

In fact, one customer had come in out of curiosity, but the moment he saw the questionnaire, he said it was too much trouble and simply left.

What if this one leaves too?

Fortunately, the man showed no sign of being bothered. He picked up the quill.

“All right. Should I answer as honestly as possible?”

“Yes. If it’s very true, give it a five. If it’s somewhat true, give it a four.”

I watched the man fold his large frame into the chair as he filled out the questionnaire.

A pleased smile naturally spread across my face.

Finally, a proper customer.

It was only my third day in business, so I had resolved not to expect too much. Even so, I had been starting to feel rather discouraged.

Aside from the people who had merely come to test the waters, this could practically be considered my first real customer.

A little while later, the man politely handed me the completed questionnaire.

“…I’m finished.”

I examined the questionnaire he handed me with a serious expression.

If he’d actually come after seeing my advertisement, he must have some enormous problem, right?

No, this is…

Almost every single item had been marked “Not at all.”

Even the one and only item marked “Very much so” was:

“Mental illness is something you should overcome on your own.”

I stared at the man, who appeared to be in remarkably good mental health.

“……..Excuse me, why did you come here?”

“What? I came after seeing the advertisement in the religious newspaper.”

“Well, all right. Perhaps you felt uncomfortable with this kind of questionnaire. And it would be unreasonable to think I could understand everything from a single sheet of paper.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I just genuinely can’t figure out why you came.”

Before beginning the consultation, I explained a few rules that had to be observed.

“Anything discussed here will not be disclosed to anyone outside. It will only be used for the purpose of your treatment.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but may I take a look at that?”

The man was pointing at the contract I had hung inside the tent.

The contract was my brilliant idea and the most important foundation of this business.

“Of course.”

After asking permission, the man stood up and stared at the contract for quite some time.

He even ran his finger over the surface of the frame containing the contract and compared the signature with the handwriting on his questionnaire.

His behavior was more suited to an investigator than a patient, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

He can’t help but be cautious.

Judging from his outward demeanor and manner of speaking, he was clearly a noble.

It couldn’t be easy to tell his troubles to a complete stranger.

Eventually, the man tore his gaze away from the frame and sat back down.

“I’ve finished verifying it. The contract is genuine.”

“Of course it is. I can’t exactly run a business by displaying a fake contract, can I?”

At my words, the man’s lips, visible beneath the mask, stiffened.

For some reason, confusion and anxiety briefly flickered in his eyes before disappearing.

The man rubbed the corner of his mouth, then tapped his thigh with his fingers.

“Are you feeling anxious right now?”

“I’m a little flustered. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“What’s troubling me…”

“If it’s difficult to talk about, you can start with something light, like an ordinary story about your daily life.”

I quietly waited, giving him time to speak comfortably.

As the seconds passed, the man’s complexion grew increasingly pale.

It seemed that the situation itself was unfamiliar to him, making him feel pressured.

I gently encouraged him.

“If it’s too difficult to talk about, it’s perfectly fine to come back another time.”

“No. I can do it. It’s just that… I’m not particularly kind, nor am I perfect.”

“……Well, of course you’re not, right? That’s how ordinary people are.”

I’d been wondering what he was getting at because he’d hesitated for so long, but his answer left me deflated.

The man stared at me wide-eyed at my calm response, then seemed to make up his mind and continued.

“I work in a profession where I save people’s lives. It is an honorable duty, and one for which I should be grateful to God.”

A profession where he saves people.

Could he be a knight?

I listened attentively while filling out his consultation chart.

It was a profession that must involve a great deal of stress.

I had just written down suspected post-traumatic stress disorder when I felt his gaze on me.

“Don’t worry about me. Please continue. I’m listening.”

“The truth is, saving people isn’t particularly rewarding.”

“Are you exhausted?”

“No. In fact, I’ve been rather free lately because my workload has decreased.”

The man seemed to be suffering between his sense of duty to save people and his tendency to blame himself.

Is his superego overly dominant?

Considering the possibility of burnout and depressive disorder, I said,

“In professions where you’re responsible for people’s lives and safety, it’s common to experience moral exhaustion. For example, let’s say I’m a doctor.”

“Yes.”

“If I didn’t feel sorry for a patient suffering from an illness, would that make me a hopeless excuse for a human being—irreparable garbage?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

The man blinked at my question before slowly answering.

“Because you aren’t the patient’s family. You have no obligation to feel that way.”

“Exactly. Neither do you.”

The man stared blankly at me as though he’d been rendered speechless, then protested.

“But I have to be more perfect than other people.”

“I’m not denying that you’re an extraordinary person. I’m simply saying that human beings can’t be perfect.”

“What if you think of it this way? Even though it was only a sense of duty, you’ve done such a good job all this time that everyone considers you perfect.”

At that moment, a golden glint appeared in the man’s eyes, which had seemed brown until then.

The light that flashed for an instant quickly disappeared, making me wonder if I had imagined it.

Have I been feeling physically run-down lately?

Based on my diagnosis, I wrote out a prescription for him.

Let go of the belief that you have to be perfect, and hate yourself a little less.

Along with the prescription I tore off, I handed him a strawberry-flavored candy.

“It’s a gift instead of medicine.”

The man stared blankly at the candy before lowering his head deeply.

When he didn’t raise his head for quite some time, I cautiously looked at his face.

At that moment, a transparent tear fell down his chin.

Note

2) Because of a perfectionistic and idealistic sense of duty (Superego), he experiences a significant discrepancy between that ideal and his imperfect self in reality.