Chapter 10

Viral Marketing Is the Best

A week had passed since the masked man had visited.

A few more customers seeking counseling had come after him, but contrary to what I had expected, the response was poor.

The problem was that people were uncomfortable with the very idea of opening up about their worries.

One customer had even angrily accused me of being a swindler.

“What are you planning to do with my problems? You’re a fraud, aren’t you?”

“I’m only trying to help you through counseling.”

“Do you think I don’t know that every swindler says they want to help?”

Come to think of it, that was only natural.

Even in a society where people hesitated to share their troubles with those close to them, I was asking complete strangers to open up to me.

‘I was too optimistic because I was so excited about finally achieving my lifelong dream.’

Whenever the urge to give up became overwhelming, I looked at the pouch of gold coins.

Someone had left behind this much money, after all. At least for my first customer, it seemed that my counseling had actually been helpful.

“You’re looking at the pouch of gold coins again and thinking about your first customer, aren’t you?”

Betty lifted the flap of the tent and came in, holding out some freshly baked bread.

It was obviously from the popular bakery in the next alley.

“I’ve always wanted to try it because there are so many people there. Thank you.”

“The line ended right in front of me. I was lucky.”

“Betty, you’re the best!”

I jumped to my feet and accepted Betty’s precious prize.

The savory aroma of freshly baked bread made my mouth water.

As soon as I transferred the bread onto a plate, Betty urged me excitedly,

“Go ahead and try it.”

Pretending to be unable to resist Betty’s encouragement, I took a bite.

It was a little dry since it was inexpensive bread, but the more I chewed, the richer the nutty flavor of whole wheat spread throughout my mouth.

There was a reason people lined up at this bakery from the early morning.

The gloom that had been lingering in my heart disappeared completely.

The world might have been a little harsh to me, but it was still beautiful.

“Betty, what do you think about changing our business to a bakery?”

“Give it up, Miss.”

“Why? My hands are warm, so I might surprisingly be good at making bread.”

“Whether your hands are warm or cold, you absolutely must not cook, Miss.”

Betty gave me a look that clearly told me to abandon such pointless thoughts.

Of course, I knew that starting a food business wouldn’t be easy.

But if I couldn’t attract customers like this, I wouldn’t be able to achieve my goal of running away before the original story began.

That didn’t mean I intended to touch the gold coins my first customer had left behind.

I couldn’t exactly extort several months’ worth of operating expenses from a single customer.

‘Come to think of it, it took me a long time to become a psychiatrist, too.’

Maybe it was only natural that this would take time.

“Thank you, Betty. I enjoyed the bread.”

Once my stomach was full, however, what I needed to do next became perfectly clear.

It absolutely wasn’t because the bread had been delicious and suddenly given me renewed motivation.

“Was it ever going to be easy to make a living in my field?”

I clenched my fist with determination.

Then let’s abandon my field.

The business with the greatest chance of success was the skewered-meat stall that people were still looking for.

‘I’ll make money selling skewers, run away, and then open a counseling office.’

I’d heard that if there was something you really wanted to do, you were supposed to make money first and do it later.

I adjusted my mask and scribbled my future plans onto a piece of paper.

“All right. Let’s go back to the original plan and start selling the former stall owner’s skewers………………..”

“Ah. Do you sell skewers here? I thought you had changed it into a counseling office.”

“Huh?”

“Excuse me?”

I turned my head at the voice coming from right beside me.

I hadn’t even noticed when she entered.

A petite woman stood there, fiddling with the edge of the hood covering her head as she looked at me.

Startled, I asked with wide eyes,

“Ah, did you come here for counseling?”

The woman’s lips, visible beneath the hood, curved gently upward.

Even with half of her face hidden, there was something慈爱的—something deeply benevolent—about her smile.

Her presence was anything but ordinary.

She was undoubtedly a noble.

“I heard that the skewers here are supposed to be delicious.

Everyone was disappointed when the business changed.”

Although the woman gave a completely unrelated answer to my question, she showed no sign that she realized anything was wrong.

Having dealt with all kinds of patients, I instinctively understood.

‘She has an extremely strong sense of self-direction!’

In other words, there was a good chance she was the type who didn’t listen to other people’s words very well.

The woman looked around the inside of the tent, then sniffed the air.

“I can smell meat. Do you still make skewers?”

She muttered to herself and started to leave the tent.

I came to my senses in an instant.

I took out one of the cushions I’d prepared, placed it on a chair, and dusted it off.

“This isn’t a skewer shop. It’s a counseling office! Welcome!”

“Then, excuse me.”

The woman changed direction, sat down in the chair, and casually dropped her money pouch onto the floor.

Clink!

My eyes shook violently at the sight of gold coins spilling across the floor.

The woman murmured in a completely unperturbed voice,

“Oh dear, my hand slipped.”

She just deliberately spilled them, didn’t she?

The woman swept the gold coins back into her pouch as though deliberately showing them off, then asked me in a playful voice,

“So, would this much money be enough for a consultation?”

“You don’t need nearly that much.”

“Isn’t it good to have plenty of money?”

“That is entirely true, but I have to refuse because of professional ethics.”

Just because I was running a counseling office instead of a hospital didn’t mean I could abandon my principles.

I picked up my quill and waited for the woman to tell me what was troubling her.

The woman sat down and spoke with an extremely serious expression.

“There is someone I like.”

My quill slipped at the unexpected direction her problem had taken.

Am I seriously giving romantic advice to a psychiatrist’s patient right now?

I’d heard concerns from couples on the verge of divorce and women worried about boyfriends who had a violent double side, but this was different.

The woman’s cheeks, visible beneath her robe, flushed a delicate red.

“I think I’m the only one who likes him right now, but I want to win his heart as quickly as possible.”

“What kind of relationship do the two of you have?”

“Hmm. We’ve been designated as each other’s partners since birth. A political engagement? Or should I say childhood friends?”

“My goodness.”

“Yes?”

“No, please, go on.”

My favorite keyword in the entire world was #childhood friends.

I loved the pure, awkward feelings that began with childhood companionship, gradually faded as the characters grew older and drifted apart, and finally blossomed when they realized their feelings for each other much later.

‘But it’s a niche genre.’

It was a rare premise in the web novel market, which was overflowing with revenge and betrayal.

I put down my quill.

When it came to relationship counseling, empathy and the right responses were more important than analysis.

“If I chase after him because I want us to become even a little closer, he pulls farther away.”

“Has he ever pushed you away?”

“No?”

“Then how about keeping your distance from him for a while instead? You may be so close to each other that he doesn’t realize how precious you are.”

The woman thought over my advice, then clenched both hands into fists.

“All right. I’ll try it!”

After that, we spent another thirty minutes talking about her incredibly entertaining childhood-friend story.

Eventually, the woman stood up, saying that it was getting late and she should be going.

At first, she’d seemed to be sizing me up, but by the end, she was acting as comfortably as though we’d been friends for ten years.

“Thank you so much for today!”

The woman stood up and took out her money pouch again.

My eyes were drawn to the gleaming gold coins, but I desperately kept my expression under control.

“How much should I pay for the consultation? Gold coins? Jewelry? Or perhaps a painting?”

“No. It’s fine today.”

“Really?”

The woman widened her eyes as though she couldn’t believe me.

I slowly shook my head.

Of course, I needed money.

A lot of it.

But today’s consultation had been closer to casually sharing worries than an actual counseling session.

More importantly, what I needed right now was customers who would come to the counseling office.

“If you don’t mind, please tell people around you that this place wasn’t bad.”

“If that’s all you want, I’m confident I can do that!”

The woman smiled brightly, waved her hand, and lightly stepped out of the tent.

I finished the day thinking back on the enjoyable counseling session.

At the time, my mind was completely occupied with preparing to change businesses.

But a few days later, I was stunned by a feature article in a weekly magazine.

The Special Place Recommended by Saintess Elijah: What Is a Counseling Office?

The Saintess Herself Reveals What Makes a Counseling Office So Special

My hands trembled as I stared at the article, which boldly printed the address of my shop.

There was no way I could fail to recognize the Saintess mentioned in the article.

The woman who came a few days ago was Saintess Elijah, the heroine of the original story?

I held my breath and ran to Betty, waving the weekly magazine.

“Miss, what’s wrong?”

“Th-th-th………………”

“Th? Was there a word that starts with ‘th’? Thunder? Thorough cleaning?”

“……at’s huge.”

It was huge.

To the people of this world, the Saintess was an object of respect and admiration—in other words, she was essentially the ultimate influencer.

I hurried to the counseling office, brimming with excitement, only to freeze at the sight before me.