A Survival Guide for a Counselor in the Apocalypse Chapter 53

Chapter 53

 

Dependent Personality Disorder was different in nature from the trendy term “indecisiveness.” At the very least, those people can choose between options like “What should I eat?” They can pick from a menu.

But with Dependent Personality Disorder, you don’t even know what you should eat in the first place. You can’t even create a set of options.

You just wait… until someone else lists the options for you, until someone points to one choice. Thinking and deciding for yourself becomes fear itself.

Even when they do make a decision, they seek confirmation from others, whether what they chose is correct. So everything about Lee Hyun’s behavior mechanism aligns perfectly with Dependent Personality Disorder.

I told him to “think about it,” so he did. And afterward, he asked Do Yoseol about his decision. A hypothesis formed… perhaps Do Yoseol’s response wasn’t a “definitive answer,” but another “question.”

‘Because Do Yoseol didn’t give him a definitive answer, he came to me for one.’

Up to this point, all of Lee Hyun’s behavior could be explained by his Dependent Personality Disorder.

‘But he said, “after thinking about it.”’

That meant he had thought for himself and made a judgment. I carefully reconsidered each word, one by one, as a counselor.

“I used them as shields.”

What his actions were.

“I hid behind them under the pretense of leading them. I thought their sacrifice was the right thing. And because of that… I caused numerous casualties.”

What the result was.

“You were the one who said those words, but the choice was mine. I…”

Lee Hyun’s breathing became unstable. At that moment, I stopped him.

“Let’s take a deep breath first. Follow me… inhale deeply and exhale slowly, five times.”

He followed my lead and exhaled. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal.

“Could you continue?”

His hands, clasped tightly on the table, trembled slightly.

“I killed them. I’ve often been told I lack flexibility. I thought that sometimes, being inflexible was a good thing.”

At school, he was a model student praised by teachers. A kind kid with good relationships. At home, an obedient son. Even becoming a police officer was influenced by his parents’ choice and the support of his homeroom teacher.

“Did you truly want to become a police officer?”

After a moment of thought, Lee Hyun answered that he didn’t know. I neither affirmed nor denied it, simply nodding as I listened.

“Then why did you want to become one?”

Because they were absolute “mentors,” he had never once questioned his path to the police academy.

“What about after you became a police officer?”

Little by little, I drew out his story.

A story about Lee Hyun that had never been covered in the original work.

“…There were some problems.”

Problems.

“Police usually follow ‘rules,’ but there are often cases that fall outside those rules.”

That’s a dilemma that can occur even in ordinary workplaces.

Who is the sinner? Who is the perpetrator? Who is the victim? Can it be clearly divided?

Humans are dual-natured. Often, they are both victim and perpetrator at the same time.

One becomes a perpetrator to escape being a victim, or in the name of revenge. These dilemmas exist in our relationships… and even more so in the profession of policing.

In fact, they weigh even heavier there. The dilemma of victim and perpetrator.

Someone harms another under the justification of killing them, so they must be subdued. Yet that perpetrator may have first suffered harm from the victim.

In a state governed by law, private retribution is clearly a crime. But what would Lee Hyun have thought when hearing a perpetrator say the law failed to protect them?

“…I didn’t think about it.”

He didn’t think at all.

He simply followed what was written in the law, what his superiors told him. If they said someone was “evil,” he defined them as evil.

He never made his own judgment. Therefore, he was not just. It was hard to call him a “protector of the people.”

He didn’t uphold anything. He merely recited. Like a living law book, just following what was written, what was ordered.

At first, that made him seem like a decent person within the police force. But as time passed, the sense of alienation grew.

“…I subdued them as instructed. As I was told. Just doing as they said.”

And yet, criticism poured in from those around him. For the first time in his life, he was labeled “incompetent.”

As a result, he became an outsider within the police. Even in that confusion, he didn’t quit.

No matter how much he was insulted or beaten down, he stayed.

Because being a police officer was a role chosen by his “parents” and “teachers.”

And then this situation happened.

And the moment it did, he met Do Yoseol.

At first glance, Do Yoseol’s words sounded right. And in truth, they were right.

 

—

“You have to help people.”

—

 

That was true. Lee Hyun had the ability. And as a police officer, he had the duty.

 

—

“Since so many people are gathered, wouldn’t it be better to care for them in a larger area?”

—

 

That was also true. They had the ability. Lee Hyun could protect, and Do Yoseol could treat.

 

—

“There are too many people, and resources might run out. Medicine is especially scarce. How about taking those who can move outside to help others and gather supplies?”

—

 

Also true. Rational. There were many people. And many patients.

Lee Hyun followed those words.

But he also followed the additional instructions that Yoseol subtly inserted.

 

—

“Mr. Lee Hyun, you’re the strongest here. If you get injured or die and can’t fight, we will all perish.”

“So please come back alive. No matter what it takes. No one is more important than you. This place needs you.”

—

 

The feeling that someone needs you.

And having a place where you belong. A place where someone affirms you.

A place where someone corrects and decides everything for you.

“Most of the time, following your words led to good results. We were able to treat the injured, gather necessary supplies…”

Because the results were good, there was no need to doubt Do Yoseol.

Do Yoseol become “good,” the perfect decision-maker.

The unstable footing he had within the police, the pressure to make decisions, he escaped all of that.

It was both mental stability and total blackout.

No one provoked him. He only had to follow.

“……Therefore.”

Justification was created.

The idea of using others as shields was justified by the logic: “If you’re gone, this place will collapse.”

Even a rational person would be forced to prioritize their own survival under that justification, without realizing they were using others’ lives to do so.

For a greater cause, one sacrifices the lesser.

Because the people left in the mart were injured, weak, and young.

Because they were clearly the vulnerable ones.

Because he had to return for them.

Because he was their center.

‘This kind of self-justification is hard to break.’

And for Lee Hyun, it would have been even harder.

He likely never even recognized it as self-justification.

The irrationality, the guilt, the moral weight, none of it would have even reached his subconscious.

The only thing that mattered was that someone was guiding him.

“I asked again.”

Lee Hyun spoke slowly.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Too many people have died. I came back, but the number of those who can fight keeps decreasing. Is something going wrong?

Lee Hyun asked.

And Do Yoseol answered.

 

—

“Officer, Mr. Lee Hyun, look around you.”

—

 

Following that, Lee Hyun looked.

Inside the dark underground parking lot of the mart, many people were groaning in pain.

 

—

“Does that look like a mistake to you?”

—

 

Do Yoseol asked.

 

—

“Does what you’ve achieved look like a sin?”

—

 

He asked again.

 

—

“Are all these people committing a crime?”

—

 

To Lee Hyun, who had only ever followed…

These questions became strong denials in disguise.

But Lee Hyun didn’t judge whether they were negative or affirmative.

He believed Do Yoseol hadn’t given him an answer.

And because he hadn’t been given an “answer,” he moved toward someone who would give one.

Now, Lee Hyun was looking at me.

With absolute certainty that I would give him an answer.

“……Am I doing something wrong?”

He was asking me… for the answer.