I Accidentally Became the Guild's Therapist
Chapter 5 : The Truth Behind My Fame
Livia Marcelline Quinn, freshly minted Mental Supporter Lv. 2, was still recovering from the guild's unhinged shrine—a nightmare of body pillows, NSFW fanart, and a statue of her hugging a slime that had seared itself into her brain. Her Therapist's Log bore the scars: Shrine: Existential horror. Issue: I'm a meme. Approach: Scream internally. The Bloodbath & Beyond guild's base camp sprawled around her, a chaotic mess of glowing runes, scattered weapons, and a slime doing what looked like a breakdance routine. Livia perched on a crate, her gray robe itching (slightly less, thanks to her level-up), muttering, "If I have to see one more drawing of me in a maid outfit, I'm quitting this game. Somehow."
The camp roared with its usual madness—players ranted about"trash loot drops," NPCs droned glitchy lines like "Error: Joy Protocol Malfunction," and a rogue tripped over a mana orb, blaming "server lag." Livia's introverted soul craved a dark corner to hide in, but her HUD flickered with notifications, and the guild's lunatics kept her tethered. I'm their therapist now, she thought, her dry humor kicking in. Flunked psych, and here I am, babysitting sword-swinging maniacs.
A notification pinged : [Achievement Unlocked: Self-Aware Doormat. +10 Irony Points (Useless)] "Wow, system, tell me how you really feel," Livia muttered, swatting the air. Her progress bar read Mental Supporter Lv. 2: 200/2000 EXP. She'd earned EXP calming Bron's existential dread, Phina's slime crush, Nyx's fear of the dark, and Alaric's gambling addiction, but the shrine had pushed her to the brink. Who makes a waifu shrine for an NPC? she thought, her face still burning at the memory of a bikini-clad body pillow.
Miles Vexley, the Psychoblade Commander, sauntered over, his smirk sharp enough to slice through her defenses. His armor glinted with menace, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Yo, Buffer," he drawled, leaning against a tent pole. "Still brooding over the shrine? It's art. Embrace it."
Livia shot him a deadpan glare. "Art? It's a felony in at least three dimensions. And stop calling me Buffer." She clutched her notepad, her sarcasm a lifeline. "I'm here to fix your issues, not star in your fan club."
Miles chuckled, tossing her a glowing orb. "Then you're gonna love this." The orb projected a holographic screen when she fumbled to catch it, nearly dropping her notepad. It displayed a subreddit: r/LiviaWaifuHub, 75k subscribers, "NPC Queen of Our Hearts!" Posts scrolled by—fanart of her soothing Bron, memes of her saying "breathe in for four," and an ASMR video titled Livia's Soothing Aura: 10 Hours of NPC Therapy.
A pinned post screamed: "Petition to make Livia a playable class! 10k signatures!" Comments gushed about her "relatable vibe" and "iconic robe," with fanfiction pairing her with… a slime?Livia's jaw dropped, her voice a strangled squeak. "This is in the real world? People are obsessed with me? I'm a nobody NPC!" She scrolled, horrified, as a video played: a player reenacting her session with Bron, fake tears and a cardboard notepad included. "They're making ASMR of me? I don't even sound like that!" Miles grinned, clearly thriving on her panic. "You went viral after Bron's sobfest. Players recorded it, posted it, and now you're the server's mascot. There's merch, Buffer—T-shirts, mugs, even a Livia plushie."
A notification blared: [You discovered your real-world fame. +500 Embarrassment Points. Achievement Unlocked: Viral Victim] Livia buried her face in her notepad, muttering, "This is worse than the shrine. I'm a meme across universes." Her introversion screamed for an off switch, but a flicker of unease stirred. Why me? I'm just… me. Her old life—parents' disappointment, classmates' pity, her own reflection showing a failure—felt like a ghost haunting her code.
Bron "Bronie" Ironslam stomped over, waving a Livia plushie like a battle standard. "Buffer! Snagged this from a loot crate! Limited edition!" The plushie's tiny robe flapped, its cartoonish eyes winking. "Signed by the devs! You signing it too?" Livia's eye twitched. "Incinerate it. Immediately." Bron pouted, hugging the plushie, and she scribbled: Patient: Bron. Issue: Plushie mania. Approach: Exorcism?Seraphina "Phina" Duskveil glided in, her slime jiggling behind. "Your fame is a celestial hymn!" she proclaimed, her voice dripping with poetic zeal. "The outer realm's mortals chant your name, Empath Eternal! We've fortified the shrine with a firewall to shield your divine essence."
"Firewall?" Livia squeaked. "You're guarding that abomination?" Nyx Shadowmint slunk forward, his Hello Kitty flashlight glowing. "Had to," he mumbled, hood hiding his blush. "Fans keep hacking the shrine. They want your… voice lines." His embarrassment matched hers, and Livia's horror deepened.
Alaric, the gambling paladin, staggered over, reeking of ale. "Buffer! I bet 500 gold you'd hit 100k subscribers by next week. Don't tank my odds!" He hiccuped, his holy aura flickering. "Also, there's a pool on you dating the slime."
Livia's notepad nearly snapped. "I'm not dating a slime! Or anyone! I'm code!" She turned to Miles, desperation rising. "Why is this happening? I just wanted to hide on my bench and not be a celebrity."
Miles' smirk softened, his voice low. "You're good at this, rookie. You listen, you fix things. Players see it. We see it." He crossed his arms, his tone firm. "This guild doesn't let its people get screwed over. Fans, hackers, devs—nobody messes with you. Clear?" Livia froze, her unease spiking. They think I'm worth protecting? Her old life had taught her she was invisible, a footnote in everyone's story. Here, she was… essential? The thought was heavier than Bron's armor. She masked it with a dry quip. "Fantastic. My fan club's a rogue with a flashlight, a poet with a slime fetish, a betting addict, and a guy who thinks 'Buffer' is my name. I'm untouchable."
A notification pinged:[You embraced your internet fame with reluctant grace. +1 Charisma. Achievement Unlocked: Reluctant Icon] The guild's antics escalated. Bron stationed himself as her "plushie guardian," nearly crushing her crate. Phina composed an ode to her "digital muse," which the slime danced to. Nyx offered to "stealth-monitor" her bench (from a crate), and Alaric tried to bet her sandals on her subscriber count. Livia scribbled: Guild: Obsessive weirdos. Issue: I'm their idol. Approach: Survive fame.
As the camp roared—players debating her subreddit, NPCs glitching about "unauthorized celebrity modules"—Livia stared at the holographic screen, the subreddit still open.
A comment stood out: "Livia feels like one of us, not just code." Her throat tightened. One of them? She was an NPC, a glitch in a game. But the guild's loyalty, their chaotic need for her, felt too real. Miles' gaze lingered, his smirk hiding something deeper, and Livia knew her quiet NPC days were history.