A Survival Guide for a Counselor in the Apocalypse Chapter 31

Chapter 31

 

At my words, the window fell silent. Time around us had completely stopped, and I spoke while looking only at the commentator.

“Are you worried I’ll tell Lee Hoin that I’ve possessed him?”

Let me make one thing clear… I have no intention of telling him that. Honesty is good. I tried to be honest, which is why I brought up my story. But what would telling him about possession even accomplish? It would just downgrade me from some unknown guy he’s traveling with to a lunatic.

The point is, I have to act within common sense.

“Don’t interfere. If you’re a commentator, then act like one. When a writer or narrator interferes this much, the story gets boring. It’s getting dull again, can’t you tell?”

Plop.

Something viscous dripped down. But instead of forming a puddle, it vanished as if it had never existed.

“Move.”

As if deciding to observe me a little longer, the commentator quietly withdrew the window. As if to say, Go ahead and try.

And the world began moving again. Lee Hoin was looking at me.

“A skill related to observation.”

A white lie. Yes, this was a white lie.

“I don’t know exactly how these skills are formed, but they probably come from what I have experienced and done. The same goes for traits.”

This was the standard setting. In novels and games, this rule always applied; your traits and skills changed depending on the job you chose.

The reason it was called a “god-tier game” was that there were quite a lot of jobs you could choose from. And the reason it was also a “trash game” was that it had too many bugs. You could get blunt-weapon skills from a cooking skill.

What are you supposed to do with that? Fight with a frying pan?

“I was planning to become a counselor. My first, second, and third choices were all psychology departments. That’s probably why I have this kind of space.”

Lee Hoin looked at me, then shifted his gaze into the air… probably checking his own traits and skills. Then, as if my explanation sounded somewhat plausible, he looked back at me.

“Do you know what intuition is? It’s the big data you’ve built up through observation, sending out warning signals.”

That’s what intuition is. Sure, there’s instinct, but more than that, it’s accumulated data piercing through the essence and making predictions.

“I liked observing.”

That was a pure truth without a trace of lies.

 

— 

[An astonishingly pure deception!]

[Many love this kind of deception… This is a story worthy of praise.]

— 

 

“I just observe more, a bit faster, and notice things others don’t. That’s where my intuition comes from.”

I added quietly,

“I didn’t say anything because I thought it might seem strange.”

That’s why.

The dice had already been thrown. The matter of trust in this relationship was no longer in my hands. Now it was up to Lee Hoin whether he would believe me or not.

“…And I really did graduate from Seonggwang High.”

…That was true. It’s just that I didn’t have a single friend.

 

— 

[A tragic truth… Ah, you are being torn apart…]

[It’s fine! Your pure ‘loner’ nature is what made you who you are now.]

— 

 

Damn it.

Lee Hoin stared at me for a moment, then let out a long sigh.

“…I didn’t think you’d actually tell me.”

He wasn’t fully opening his heart and trusting me completely.

“…Just tell me from now on. Whether I believe it or not. Just… tell me. Let me see what you think and what you see. I need to know how things are going, too.”

Even getting this far was enough.

I nodded at his words and asked while looking at him,

“So, you?”

Since I had shown my hand, it was his turn.

Even if it meant stirring him up, I needed to know.

“…Is it uncomfortable?”

He asked if it was uncomfortable, but what he really meant was, Can’t you say it?

Rationally, I knew I needed to know, but my professional ethics held me back.

 

— 

[After coming this far, you act like this? Why don’t you go ahead and ask if a lion feels pain in its rear after you’ve slapped it awake!]

—  

 

Seeing his breathing falter, I immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe.”

“…You’re creepy as hell.”

After steadying his breathing for a moment, Lee Hoin spoke.

“My mom and dad said they’d leave a bit later. My mom hasn’t been feeling well lately, so they were going to go to the hospital early in the morning… and then come to my graduation.”

…Then were they in the auditorium? Or the hospital?

I asked carefully,

“…Were they in the auditorium?”

He shook his head.

“They didn’t come. I don’t know if they were delayed or what, but anyway… back in that room…”

What had Lee Hoin been like when everyone was clinging to their phones in despair? I couldn’t remember. Because everyone had been carrying the same weight of despair.

Everyone’s faces had collapsed. Everyone had lost family, friends, and teachers.

That place had been filled with an indescribable, massive despair.

…Including me.

“I called my dad, and somehow it turned into a video call…”

 

***

 

A musty little room. A cramped space where despair itself seemed to linger in the air.

Everyone clutched their phones, muttering to themselves. Among them, the only ones who seemed somewhat composed were Lee Hoin, me… and the injured guy sitting far away with another person beside him.

Lee Hoin let out a sigh, turned his head, and called his father.

His father would be alive. The reason was simple: his biological father was a large, built-up athlete. He had practiced judo for years. And since his parents were together, if his father were alive, then his mother must be alive too.

That’s what he thought. He was certain of it.

“Son!”

But after several missed calls, when his father’s urgent voice finally came through, he realized something was wrong.

“Don’t come home! Don’t come home! Hoin, don’t come home!”

His father was shouting not to come home. Behind his voice, something was slamming loudly.

“…Dad?”

Lee Hoin started to call out to him, then suddenly fell silent at the strange feeling twisting inside him.

Had his father dropped the phone in the chaos? A dull thud was heard, followed by faint sounds.

“…Seonah!! Please…!”

His father’s voice, calling his mother.

His heart began to pound wildly.

There weren’t many things that could be considered his father’s weakness.

Himself… and… his mother.

Was his father crying?

Lee Hoin instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear. It was an unconscious reaction, as if he knew this moment would be etched into his memory forever.

“Mi Seonah, please, come to your senses… Hoin, Hoin is waiting… our son, huh? Seonah…”

His father was crying. That much was clear.

Lee Hoin’s eyes darted to the phone screen lying on the ground. He didn’t even know what had been pressed. But he could see the other side.

Was it fate playing a trick… or just a horrific nightmare?

At his father’s feet, beyond him…

Something that had changed…

“…Mom?”

That… was supposed to be his mother?

That… was his mother?

He retched several times. There was no food in his stomach, so nothing came out… just bitter bile rising.

His father was bleeding, and his mother was drenched in blood.

And his father was holding her back.

Something that didn’t even look like his mother anymore.

“Seonah!”

Desperately calling her name.

His father was trying to save her. Trying to bring her back, to make her his ‘wife’ again.

He kept apologizing to something that might not even be her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Seonah, I’m sorry. Okay? Let’s stop being angry… you’re going to get hurt… please…”

He was only holding her back. His father, who should have been able to subdue her easily, was barely managing to restrain her.

Because his mother had always been weak.

Even a slight counterattack could break something in her body.

His father had always been afraid of that.

“Son, I’m your father, and you are my world… but in my world, there is one rule I cannot defy.”

It had always been like that. In his father’s world, Lee Hoin existed.

“Your mother. My priority is always your mother. Son, don’t feel hurt by that.”

Mother.

Was that… still his mother?

No, that… was his mother?

Bile rose again.

If he kept calling that thing ‘mother,’ if he focused only on protecting her, no matter how much he got hurt…

Then…

‘…Then.’

A dry heave surged up again. There was nothing to throw up.

Only bitterness kept rising.

“…What about me?”