"How are you handling the events within the Nine Frequency Anomaly? That must have been a horrifying experience for you," it said softly.
My muscles tensed as a faint sting of panic crawled up my spine.
"How the hell do you know about that?"
"Yuwon, I wouldn't be a good counselor if I didn't know the cause of containment my patients have, don't you think so?"
"I asked a question," I insisted, sharper than I meant to.
"And I answered. Now please… calm yourself, and answer mine," the Counselor shot back, voice level and frustratingly gentle.
'This is pointless.'
'It's not going to talk straight. Feels like I'm talking to myself anyway, since it looks like me and all…'
I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax. The tea steamed quietly between my hands, warming my fingers even as an icy unease settled deeper in my chest.
"I'm fine," I said, though my voice didn't sound convincing even to me. "My sense of time is still a bit off, but other than that, I'm physically alright."
I took a sip of the warm tea, letting the heat distract me from the way its eyes never blinked.
"And yet you're haunted by a bunch of 'what-ifs,' correct?"
The cup froze halfway to my lips.
'…!'
My heartbeat stumbled, then picked up again—too fast, too loud.
"You're doubting yourself," it continued. "Wondering if there was a way to neutralize the anomaly without losing a part of your two Souls."
The Counselor smiled—my smile, except softer and much more delicate.
'How the hell does it even know about my two Souls…?'
'Vice-Director Han is the only one who—'
Realization slammed into me like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
'Did he tell the Counselor?'
'That sly bastard— he actually went ahead and told it?!'
"It's not like I'm doubting myself," I muttered, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my composure. "But losing such a big part of myself still stings. There must have been a way to neutralize it without a sacrifice like that."
"And what if there wasn't?"
The Counselor tilted its head—my gesture, mirrored with uncanny precision.
"Yuwon, anomalies are dangerous… things."
I almost laughed. Bitterly.
It continued speaking like it wasn't an anomaly itself— a creature imitating empathy with my own face.
"Sometimes," it said gently, "certain sacrifices must be made, for better or worse. And if any of your team members had done it, they would have died. You chose the best course of action you could have in that moment. And thanks to that, everyone made it out alive."
His tone was warm. Reassuring. Comforting.
And yet every word felt like it pressed deeper into my skull.
I lowered the cup slowly,
"Funny," I said quietly. "You say that like you actually care."
It blinked at me in confusion—
"Is it so strange," it asked, "Helping is my purpose. Naturally I'm also supposed to care for my Patients, no?"
Before I could respond, it leaned back in its chair—my posture, relaxed, thoughtful—and spoke again.
"You think losing that piece of your soul weakened you," it murmured—almost kindly, almost cruelly.
My breath caught in my throat.
"You're not broken, Yuwon."
Its voice thinned into a whisper, drifting through the room like smoke.
"You're changing."
My fingers tightened around the warm ceramic, grounding myself before the implications could swallow me.
"Changing into what?" I managed.
The Counselor smiled again—slow, deliberate. A knowing smile that suggested not knowledge, but certainty. As if every secret I had ever tried to hide had been neatly catalogued somewhere behind its eyes.
"That," it said, "is the part I'm here to help you understand."
I didn't answer. I wasn't sure I wanted to.
The silence that followed stretched comfortably for it, uncomfortably for me.
I sipped the tea to fill the gap, hoping the warmth would untie the knot tightening in my chest.
Then the Counselor's expression shifted—calm still, but less gentle.
"Our last topic for today… would be Charles."
It tilted its head.
"The mimic you encountered in the Labyrinth anomaly. I can feel your unease. Would you like to tell me why he unsettles you so deeply?"
My breath snagged mid-inhale, memories of that thing crossing my mind once more
'Why ask at all? You probably know everything already.'
"I'm just… confused about him," I admitted.
"When Supervisor Ash pulled me out of the Labyrinth, he said the anomaly was collapsing. By every rule, every piece of logic we have—Charles should've died there."
I swallowed the last bit of tea my cup had left.
"But I ran into him again."
My grip tightened around the cup.
"At the Diner That Never Ends."
The Counselor didn't look surprised. If anything, it looked… relieved.
As though I had finally reached the part it had been waiting for.
"I see," it murmured. "So the contradiction is what frightens you."
Its eyes gleamed— soft, unreadable.
"Charles survived something he should not have survived. Something no mimic could ever endure. And that makes you question whether the Labyrinth truly ended the way you believed it did."
I felt the muscles in my shoulders tighten.
"Yuwon," it said gently, "you are allowed to be unsettled. Encountering an impossibility would shake anyone— especially someone who doesn't belong here."
'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'
"But confusion," the Counselor continued, "is not danger."
Its voice lowered, carrying a strange reassurance—like a lullaby hummed in a language I half-recognized.
"For all we know, Charles might have escaped too without Supervisor Ash and Agent Ares noticing. What matters most is that you know mimics are a type of anomaly that can only appear inside subspace Anomalies. You're safe now."
My breath stilled.
"Safe?" I echoed.
"Yes."
Its fingers intertwined thoughtfully, as though weighing truths.
"Your fear comes from not understanding how he has survived the impossible."
It leaned forward slightly, its presence warm but impossibly steady.
"You have a Team now. You don't have to face this fear alone anymore."
The words settled over me like a heavy blanket—warm, but undeniably restrictive.
"I am here to guide you, Yuwon," the Counselor whispered.
"Through Charles. Through the changes within you. Through all that waits beyond the Pale Shore."
A quiet pause.
"You are not losing control. You are simply stepping into truths you were never meant to see so soon."
My heartbeat thudded hard against my ribs—afraid, but not drowning anymore. The Counselor's certainty anchored me in a way I didn't want to admit felt comforting.
"What… truths?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
The Counselor smiled.
"That," it said softly, "is our next session."
"Next session? I don't see why there should be another one."
"Don't you feel… clarity? At peace?" The Counselor asked—my own features twisted in concern.
As much as I hate to admit it, I do feel a little better. But still… I didn't exactly enjoy this experience.
"I've been told I'm not contaminated. So I have no reason to have a session. And I'm not even the rank required to get on the waiting list," I explained, trying to sound casual.
"I can arrange that."
It spoke gently.
Persistent much.
"No."
This time my voice was firmer. "If I ever get contaminated and reach the rank needed for a session, then I might consider it. But until then, I absolutely won't come back."
The Counselor stared at me, blinking a few times before speaking.
"As you wish. You may leave now."
And so I did. Straight home—still on paid leave until the Pale Shore operation.
"Not particularly excited about that one either," I muttered to myself as I approached my front door.
When I stepped inside, my "roommate"—the white fox with golden-blue eyes—was already waiting for me.
It bounced on its paws, unleashing a storm of chirpy, high-pitched barks, its tail swishing in frantic arcs.
"Right… I haven't fed you since I left for the Nine Frequency Anomaly, huh?"
The fox yipped louder, as if agreeing.