The next day, our new client from the Silver Griffins guild arrived. Sir Reginald was the most perfect-looking knight I had ever had the displeasure of sensing. His silver armor was polished to a mirror shine, his posture was so straight he could have been used as a ruler, and his magnificent blonde mustache was waxed into two flawless, cheerful points. He radiated an aura of pure, unfiltered nobility.
He strode into my dungeon with a confident gait, his eyes taking in the calm atmosphere. His first test began immediately.
A single Dust Bunny, on its morning cleaning route, happily hopped across the stone floor directly in his path.
Sir Reginald froze mid-stride.
He stared down at the tiny, fluffy creature with an expression of profound, agonizing conflict. His hand, which had been resting on the pommel of his gleaming sword, slowly retracted as if he were afraid the very thought of a weapon might frighten the bunny.
"Oh, my," he whispered, his voice filled with a pained sincerity. "Look at its little button eyes. Its twitching nose. How could anyone ever bring harm to such a pure and industrious creature?"
He then took a wide, ten-foot detour around the Dust Bunny to avoid disturbing its important work.
FaeLina, watching invisibly from above, had a complete psychic meltdown in my mind.
'He's been defeated by the cleaning staff!' she shrieked. 'The weakest monster in the entire dungeon, and he actively avoided it! We're doomed! The Silver Griffins are going to demand a refund, even before they paid us!'
Sir Reginald eventually reached the main chamber and stood before my core, giving a formal, crisp bow. "Honorable Dungeon Core", his voice as polished as his armor. "I am Sir Reginald of the Silver Griffins. I am here to be cured of my... affliction."
I decided a simple diagnostic test was in order before we even touched the Dreamscape.
'Sir Reginald,' I projected calmly. 'Your first task is simple. Please... pet the Pillow Fiend.'
At my command, a single, cheerful Pillow Fiend waddled out from the Hibernation Hollows and plopped down in front of the knight, wiggling expectantly.
Sir Reginald approached the creature as if it were a sleeping, three-headed dragon. He slowly, hesitantly, reached out a trembling, gauntleted hand. He got within an inch of its fluffy surface, then pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned.
"I cannot!" he declared, taking a dramatic step backward. "Its cuddly aura is too powerful! To touch it would be to admit that some things in this world are too pure and soft for a life of strife! It would shatter my warrior's spirit!"
FaeLina was now banging her tiny, invisible head against my core's containment field. 'His warrior's spirit is going to be broken by a pillow! This is a disaster!'
I had seen enough. This was a deep-seated issue that could not be solved in the real world.
'Sir Reginald,' I projected. 'Please proceed to one of the napping alcoves. Your first therapy session will begin shortly.'
The knight, looking relieved to have a clear order, nodded and went to lie down. Once he was asleep, I pulled his consciousness into the Dreamscape.
He appeared on the calm, twilight beach, his dream-self clad in the same shining armor.
'Sir Reginald,' my voice echoed around him. 'Your flaw is not a lack of strength, but an overabundance of empathy for that which you perceive as small and harmless. To overcome this, we must face your weakness directly.'
I began the training. I didn't summon a goblin or a monster. I summoned the cutest thing I could imagine.
With a soft poof, a single, tiny, fluffy white kitten appeared on the sand. It had huge, sad, blue eyes and it let out a soft, heart-wrenching "meow."
Sir Reginald's reaction was catastrophic. His conjured sword clattered to the sand. He dropped to his knees.
"Oh, you poor, defenseless creature!" he cried, his voice thick with emotion. "The world is too cold and cruel for one as gentle and pure as you! Do not worry, I shall protect you!"
He was completely and utterly paralyzed by its cuteness.
This was worse than I thought. Exposure therapy was having the opposite effect.
'He's hopeless!' FaeLina wailed in my mind. 'We'll have to refund money and live in shame!'
But as I watched the noble knight trying to build a tiny sandcastle to protect the imaginary kitten, I realized the true nature of the problem. It wasn't that he liked cute things. It was that he saw them as fundamentally weak and defenseless.
I ended the simulation. I had a new, much more chaotic lesson plan in mind.
'He needs to stop seeing them as weak,' I thought,and a mischievous idea form in my mind.
'Fine. Lesson two it is.'
'We're going to teach him that 'cute' does not mean 'harmless'.'
I began designing a new nightmare construct for his next session. It wouldn't be a goose. It would be something far, far worse. A horde of angry, dagger-wielding squirrels with a grudge.