Is That My Alter Ego

Chapter 69 – Counseling

A man with a grim demeanor took a seat. I sat quietly across from him, observing.

“Ahem…”

The man seemed displeased with the awkward atmosphere, clearing his throat.

‘…But what should I do now?’

Hmm… First, this is my counseling center, and the man before me has likely come seeking my counsel.

In that case, it would be best to proceed with the session.

“The weather is really nice, isn’t it?”

“Um… I suppose so.”

“Haha… But on such a lovely day, why do you seem so troubled?”

“………”

I had never conducted a counseling session with a person before, but as I spoke, thinking of it as a conversation with the man before me, the words flowed naturally.

What had started as a playful attempt to lighten the mood seemed to reveal that the man was indeed deep in thought. I could faintly sense some kind of energy rising from him.

“I heard… that you can erase memories.”

“Yes. That is true.”

“………..”

“Um… This doesn’t seem right. I’m sorry…”

The man, hesitating for a long moment, bowed his head to me and seemed ready to rise from his seat.

I couldn’t say for sure, but it appeared he was frightened, trying to evade the weight of this situation.

“Just a moment. Would you sit down for me, just once?”

“…Yes?”

“Just once will suffice. Can you trust my words, just this once?”

“….Yes.”

With a sigh, the man settled back into his chair. Yet, the darkness in his expression lingered, as if he bore the weight of something unseen.

I gazed at him quietly.

[Responsibility, Guilt.]

Next to his shadowed face, a status window flickered into view. The emotions I had sensed dimly were, as the window suggested, likely those of responsibility and guilt.

As I observed his expression and feelings, a sense of duty began to blossom within me—a need to embrace and resolve his turmoil.

“May I ask what you have experienced?”

“…….”

“Are you perhaps too afraid to even speak of it?”

“I’m sorry… Sir. It seems… a bit difficult to do so with a clear mind.”

“Hmm… then may I assist you a little?”

“….If there is a way… I would be grateful.”

The man, as if placing his trust in me, tightly shut his eyes and clenched his fists, waiting patiently. Having received his consent, it seemed I could begin.

‘Surely, the trigger is the snap of my fingers.’

[Unique Ability (Hypnosis): By focusing the subject’s attention through a specific trigger, hypnosis can commence. (Trigger set: Default [Finger Snap])]

-However, if the subject’s mental resistance is severe, the hypnosis may be broken. It is possible to force hypnosis upon the subject, but this may cause physical or mental strain.-

“Now. Open your eyes and focus on my finger.”

“….Yes.”

“I will count to three. Three. Two. One.”

Snap-!

[Hypnosis in progress…. Progress status: 32%…. 55%….. 87%…..]

[Hypnosis successful.]

After a brief moment, the man’s eyes glazed over. It seemed, as the status window confirmed, that the hypnosis had taken hold.

I cleared my throat and began to question him.

“Now, tell me. What have you experienced? What troubles weigh upon you?”

“…I had a family. My wife, more beautiful than anyone in the world. And children, more precious than any treasure…”

The man begins to answer my question quietly. I listen intently, committing each word to memory.

“It was a life beyond compare. My wife, who embraced my insignificance. And the children, who were so dear that even the thought of them brought pain…”

“Yes. Please, continue.”

He seems to recall a radiant moment, light returning to his vacant eyes. Yet, soon enough, that light fades back into emptiness.

“My wife suddenly left our family. So abruptly…”

“…..”

“At first, I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a dream. Just a nightmare, I denied it. But… the hell that unfolded before my eyes was all too real.”

He cradles his head in his hands, howling in anguish. Tears begin to flow from his hollow eyes.

“It was… truly hard. Yet, I had to keep living… for my children. The last treasures my wife left behind…”

“…Please, go on.”

What could have happened to this man, who was endlessly gentle to his wife and a steadfast pillar for his children?

“But… I, weak and pitiful, could not endure. I forgot that I had those left behind… and lived each day drowning in alcohol.”

“……..”

How could one send off their most beloved with a tranquil heart?

I could never condemn his actions, as he clung to the memory of a lifelong partner who would never return, barely surviving each day through drink.

“Foolishly… I didn’t even care for the children. They pleaded with me daily. ‘Please stop. Come back to us, kind father…'”

“….Yes.”

“And yet… I must have been mad. I pushed those children away, only howling in the grip of a past that had long since slipped away. What must they have felt watching me…?”

A family shattered by the loss of a beloved mother, and now a father who had crumbled.

Parents are the world to their children, their sky. For those children, witnessing the collapse of everything they knew overnight must have been a continuous agony.

There are no words to describe a parent who has lost a child. There is no way to articulate that despair and pain.

But the same holds true for a child who has lost a parent. For the little lambs who have sent their world away, even the gentlest breeze can tear at their flesh and rend their hearts.

The man lost his beloved wife, and the children lost their mother, only to see their father transformed.

A home can crumble in an instant, without the need for time.

“…The distance between my children and me grew ever wider. They kept their distance, and I, knowing this, turned away.”

His hands tremble, shaking as if to condemn his past actions, guilt etched across his face. He continues to speak.

“Then one day, it happened. I was, as always, drunk, wandering the streets.”

“I saw some people in the square of Espilia village. A guard, with a gloomy expression, spoke something to a woman, and she collapsed right there, wailing at the top of her lungs.”

A woman, steeped in sorrow and hatred for the world. I fell silent, feeling as if I understood her pain.

“…Without even realizing it, my steps led me there. And then I heard the tale. A woman’s son, lost to an accident, leaving no trace of his body behind.”

To face the death of a child, one whom you would give everything to cradle in your arms, is a sorrow beyond words, compounded by the agony of not being there for that final moment.

“The instant I saw the woman crying out for her child… clarity struck me like a bolt. And then… the lonely faces of my own children came flooding back.”

“Please… continue.”

“Only then did I understand. I dashed home, desperate to meet my children’s gaze.”

When I thought it was too late, it was indeed far too late, but knowing was a hundred times better than remaining in ignorance until the end.

Yet, whether those tender, fragile children would face nightmares anew remained uncertain. Perhaps… it would be a struggle.

“…The emotion I felt in the children’s expressions was fear. They clung to one another… trembling, quaking.”

A nail once driven in is not easily pulled out. Especially for children who witness their parents, the very architects of their identities, crumble before their eyes.

The man weeps, tearing at his own hair. The raw tremor of his rugged hands conveyed a desperation that resonated within me.

“…Did you apologize to the children?”

“No… I repeated it daily, murmuring my regrets as I tried to approach them. But… each time, my wife’s face would surface, and I could not utter a word…”

The fear of further fracturing a bond already shattered mingled with the unbearable pain of confronting a past that stung like frost.

“….Teacher. Please… take my memories away. Of my wife…”

“…….”

He seemed to wish to forget the past, to live in the present at last.

‘…Is that truly the right way?’

To forget a past that once shone so brilliantly in order to live in the now. Some might say that is the answer, but I do not believe so.

I grasped his trembling hand and looked into his eyes.

“…No. I cannot do that.”

“….What? But…”

“To forget the past and live in the present may be a method, yes. But… is that past truly one that can be forgotten?”

“……..!”

A past that burned so brightly it hurt to recall. If he were to forget it, would not every moment shared with his wife fade into meaningless oblivion?

Everyone experiences pain. Some crumble beneath it, falling into despair from which they may never rise again.

Yet, some rise above that pain, forging ahead to create a future more radiant than the past that hurt them.

Such people do not forget their suffering. Rather, they live on, resolutely remembering that pain so as not to let it slip away.

“Because pain exists… and because parting exists, does it not make this time we share all the more precious? And you have those who are more precious than anything else, do you not?”

“….Pel…Bria….”

He is the kind of person who could approach the children at once, to convey his words of apology.

—

Just a little help to take that step forward.

And I am merely extending that small helping hand.

“Go. To the children. It’s not too late yet.”

“Sniff… sniff…”

He clutches my hand tightly, bowing his head and shedding tears. In truth, even without me, he would have known everything.

With a bit of courage, he could approach the children again.

But perhaps he hesitated because of his past and actions.

[You can absorb the target’s emotions and memories. Do you want to absorb them?]

[Absorb: Absorb the target’s memories about ‘Briandel’. Absorb the emotions of despair and sorrow.]

[Do not absorb: Hypnosis will be released.]

A status window appears beside his bowed head. If I absorb his emotions and memories now, he might forget the past and live well.

‘Of course… I won’t absorb them.’

But through his monologue, I could tell he was someone who could move forward more vigorously while keeping his past.

[Hypnosis will be released. 3…2…1. Released.]

His eyes clear up again. But tears still flow from them.

Clank-

I open the firmly closed door and see him off. He still sheds tears, bowing his head to me in gratitude.

“Sniff… sniff… Thank you… teacher…”

“I’m sorry that I can only offer such a small help.”

It was true. If I had more extraordinary abilities, I could have solved all his pain too…

Well, sometimes keeping the pain helps in moving forward.

Though he is a man two or three heads taller than me, at this moment, he seemed more fragile than I.

I patted his shoulder to calm him, and after a while, the slightly calmed man left the counseling room with a more determined expression than before.

“Phew… so this is the life he led…”

It wasn’t easy and it was peculiar, but I felt I could empathize with why he acted this way.

It made me a little happy that with just my small advice, I could help those who were lost and wandering.

“…Master. What the hell did you do? Why is that guy suddenly crying like that?”

“What do you mean? It’s just counseling.”

What I do isn’t a big deal. It’s just giving a little push to those who are already prepared.

Knock knock-

—

—

“Is…is anyone there…?”

Then, a woman’s voice is heard along with a knock on the door. At the same time, a smile naturally forms on my face.

“Next person. Please come in.”

With my insignificant help, I hope to provide you with even a small comfort. I am just doing what I can.