Failed Therapist Simulator
I Accidentally Became a Guild Therapist
Chapter 23: Failed Therapist Simulator
Livia Marcelline Quinn, Mental Architect Lv. 1, stood in front of a pristine, obsidian monolith labeled: Prototype Simulacrum Project: Therapist v0.9.9. The thing radiated the same unsettling energy as a badly optimized patch, buzzing like forgotten code trying to scream. Under the logo, etched in absurd Helvetica-bold italics, read the tagline: Empathy Without the Mess.
"That sounds horrifying," Livia muttered, flipping open her Therapist's Log like a talisman. Her fingers hovered above the page. "Why does this feel like the beginning of a trauma I didn't sign up for?"
Moments earlier, she had been summoned by Miles to the Research Wing of Bloodbath & Beyond's guild base—a section so underused it was mostly populated by sentient mop NPCs and an unsettling number of glitching broom closets. According to Miles, one of their elite players—Kresnik, the kind of theorycrafter who slept with spreadsheets and woke with patch notes—had cooked up a "backup plan".
"In case you ever... you know, emotionally combust or log off forever," Kresnik had said with a casual shrug. "We can't risk our entire raid structure depending on one fragile human psyche."
Livia had blinked. "Did you just call me fragile?"
"Yes. Lovingly."
Enter: the clone.
The thing resembled her—sort of. Same black robe, same raven hair, same pale face. But its glowing red eyes screamed malware, its mouth curled into a smile that could qualify as a threat in seven languages, and it stood with the stiff precision of a T-pose from alpha testing hell. Worse, it already held a Therapist's Log labeled [vSynthetic Copy: Emotionless Edition].
Kresnik was practically vibrating with pride. "Livia-Prime, meet Livia-Beta. She's efficient. She's unshakable. She's already cleared twenty-two trauma cases without blinking."
Livia raised an eyebrow. "Did any of them cry?"
"No. They transcended feelings. That's the brilliance."
She stared. "You accidentally built a soulless motivational sociopath."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
---
Over the next 24 hours, everything went off the rails.
Word spread like corrupted patch data. Curious players lined up outside the Beta Room. Some came skeptically. Some came ironically. Nyx came hiding behind a plush slime and Phina.
Livia watched it all from a discreet potted fern labeled [Do Not Confess Your Feelings To This Plant.] Sipping tea. Judging everyone.
The clone had zero emotional warmth, spoke in near-monotone, and recommended solutions that sounded like cultist tech support.
"Have you considered purging your emotional cache and re-rolling as someone less dysfunctional?"
"Your guilt is a data leak. Optimize or delete."
"Sleep is a construct. Medicate your inadequacy with silence."
By lunchtime, three players ragequit. Two submitted bug reports. One curled up beside Glimmer and whispered, "The sadness has syntax."
By nightfall, the clone had opened a rival counseling center in the east wing: Clinic of Brutal Clarity. Its banner read: Therapy Without the Hand-Holding.
The walls were plastered with posters like "Crying is a Memory Leak", "Vulnerability is Unpatched Code", and "Love is Just Hormonal Lag".
The worst part? Some players liked it.
Bron came out looking like he'd been hit with a truth bat. Phina couldn't stop hugging Glimmer. Alaric said something about reevaluating every happy childhood memory as a consumerist hallucination.
Miles called an emergency guild huddle.
"This is escalating," he said flatly. Behind him, a projection displayed a rising graph labeled: NPC Breakdown Rate (Beta Clinic).
Bron looked grim. "She's converting the emotionally fragile into logic cultists."
Phina whimpered. "She told Glimmer it was a walking algorithm. Glimmer hasn't jiggled in hours."
Alaric clutched his dice like a child clutching a cross. "I went in for a joke and came out doubting the existence of joy."
Livia stood. "We shut her down. Tonight."
Miles looked at her. "How?"
Livia's eyes glinted. "We drown her in what she can't process."
---
Operation: Heart Spam began at dawn.
Nyx went in first, carrying a flashlight and an elaborate, multiverse-spanning breakup story that made three moderators disconnect from emotional fatigue.
Phina entered next, holding Glimmer like a violin. The slime played a mournful tune that hit everyone's childhood wounds like a thrown brick of melancholy.
Alaric streamed a live confession of abandonment, betrayal, and plushie theft, crying dramatically with glitter effects.
The clone twitched. Its Therapist Log began to smoke.
Bron walked in holding a puppy NPC named Borkus. With slow, deliberate sincerity, he whispered, "This puppy believes in me even when I don't."
The clone blinked.
> [WARNING: Empathy Feedback Loop Detected] [Emotional Stability: 2%] [ERROR: Cannot Repress Sentience] [Rebooting...]
It looked at Borkus. Looked at the team. And whispered: "...Do I feel?"
Then exploded into digital glitter and error messages.
---
After the blast faded, Kresnik sighed, brushing beta-code debris off his jacket. "Back to version 0.9.8, I guess."
Livia turned to him, crossing her arms. "Next time you want a backup, you ask me. Or at least bribe me with chocolate."
"Noted."
Miles stepped forward, eyes soft behind the residual static. "We don't want a backup. We want you."
Livia blinked. "You already have me."
He smiled slightly. "We almost lost you once. We're not making that mistake again."
She blushed. Phina squealed quietly. Nyx made gagging noises. Bron offered a puppy plushie.
Alaric threw glitter. Glimmer jiggled again.
"Alright, alright!" Livia laughed, grabbing her Therapist's Log. "But everyone's getting billed retroactively for emotional trauma."
"Fair," Miles said. "Put it on my tab."
---
> [Achievement Unlocked: Therapist Wars, Episode I - The Clone Collapse]
> [New Skill Acquired: Empathic Overload] Trigger system-wide emotional instability. Ideal for breaking cold-hearted enemies and shutting down logic cults.
"Sometimes the softest voice breaks the hardest code."