I Accidentally Became the Guild's Therapist
Chapter 3: EXP from Tears
Livia Marcelline Quinn, self-proclaimed patron saint of emotional furniture, sat cross-legged on a salvaged bench in the MMORPG camp, her Therapist's Log splayed open like a battle map. The camp buzzed with its usual chaos—players screamed about "nerfed loot tables," NPCs looped their glitchy sales pitches, and a stray fireball singed a tent, prompting a chorus of curses. Livia's gray robe itched, her HUD flickered with unread notifications, and her introverted soul yearned for a mute button for reality. She scribbled in her notepad: *Day 2 as Emotional Buffer 2.0. Survived crying tanker. Guild is insane. Send help.*
A notification pinged, uninvited: [Achievement Unlocked: Chronicler of Chaos. +5 Note-Taking Points (Cosmetic)]
Livia groaned, swatting at the air. "Cosmetic points? Seriously, system? Give me a fireball spell or a nap." Her dry sarcasm was her only armor against the absurdity of her new life as a Mental Supporter Lv. 1, a role she was spectacularly unqualified for. Yesterday's encounter with Bloodbath & Beyond—the server's #1 guild of overpowered lunatics—had left her reeling. Bron "Bronie" Ironslam, the immortal tanker, had sobbed about his existential dread, earning her 800 EXP and a passive skill, Soothing Aura Lv. 1*. The rest of the guild had piled on with their own bizarre issues, from slime crushes to gambling debts, cementing her as their unofficial therapist.
She flipped to her HUD's status screen, squinting at the progress bar. Mental Supporter Lv. 1: 800/1000 EXP."So, I level up by… fixing people's feelings?" she muttered, her psychology training—half-remembered from late-night cramming—stirring. "That's the dumbest game mechanic I've ever heard." But a tiny, traitorous part of her was curious. No swords, no spells, just her words and a notepad. Could she actually *do* this?
Her musings were cut short by a shadow looming over her. Bron stood there, his massive frame blocking the sun, his dented armor clanking. "Buffer!" he boomed, oblivious to her flinch. "You're a genius! That breathing thing? Changed my life. I tanked a wyvern this morning and actually *felt* something. You gotta fix the others now!"
Livia clutched her notepad, her panic rising. "Fix? I didn't *fix* you, I just—" She stopped, noting Bron's earnest grin. *He thinks I'm competent. That's… new.* She cleared her throat, channeling her best therapist impression. "Okay, Bron. Glad you're… feeling. Who else needs, uh, support?"
Bron gestured to the guild's base camp, a sprawling mess of tents and glowing runes just beyond the main hub. "All of 'em! They're a mess since you showed up. Phina's writing poetry again, Nyx won't leave his crate, and the paladin—well, you'll see." He grabbed her arm, nearly yanking her off the bench. "C'mon, Buffer!"
"Stop calling me that!" Livia yelped, stumbling after him.
A notification flashed: [Achievement Unlocked: Reluctant Hero. +10 Protest Points (Ineffective)]
The guild's camp was a monument to chaos. A slime jiggled in a corner, serenaded by Seraphina "Phina" Duskveil, the Eldritch Archmage, whose poetic monologue echoed like a bad open-mic night. "O gelatinous muse, thy quivering form doth stir my soul!" Nyx Shadowmint, the Ghost Rogue, peeked from behind a crate, his Hello Kitty flashlight trembling. The paladin, Alaric, swayed nearby, clutching a flask and muttering about "that damn slime race." Miles Vexley, the Psychoblade Commander, lounged on a throne-like chair, his smirk as sharp as his blade.
Livia's stomach sank. This is a psych ward with swords. She opened her notepad, scribbling: Guild: Bloodbath & Beyond. Issue: Collective insanity. Approach: Run?
Miles caught her eye, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Back for round two, Emotional Buffer? Or you planning to bolt?"
"Don't tempt me," Livia deadpanned, earning a chuckle. She squared her shoulders, her introversion warring with a flicker of determination. "Fine. Who's first?"
Phina glided forward, her robes shimmering. "I require your counsel, Sentiment Processor." Her tone was regal, but her eyes darted to the slime. "My heart yearns for… an unconventional bond. How does one court a being of such… fluidity?"
Livia's jaw dropped. "You're in love with a *slime*?" She caught herself, forcing a neutral tone. "I mean, tell me more about this… bond." Her pen hovered, half-expecting a prank.
Phina's monologue lasted ten minutes, waxing poetic about the slime's "luminous essence" and "gentle viscosity." Livia nodded, scribbling: *Patient: Phina. Issue: Slime crush. Approach: Don't laugh.* She tried a textbook tactic. "Have you considered expressing your feelings directly? Maybe… talk to the slime?"
Phina gasped, clutching her staff. "A direct confession? Bold! I shall compose an ode!" She swept away, muttering rhymes.
A notification pinged: *[You inspired an archmage to confront her slime crush. +300 EXP]*
Livia blinked. "That worked?" Her progress bar ticked up: *900/1000 EXP*. "I'm one sob story from leveling up."
Next was Nyx, who shuffled forward, flashlight in hand. "I, uh, need help," he mumbled, hood hiding his face. "The dark. It's… bad." His voice cracked, and Livia's empathy kicked in despite her panic.
"Okay, Nyx," she said softly, recalling a phobia technique. "Let's try visualization. Picture the dark as… a cozy blanket, not a threat." Nyx nodded, gripping his flashlight. After a shaky minute, he whispered, "It's… less scary."
A ping : *[You eased an assassin's fear of darkness. +200 EXP. Skill Unlocked: Verbal Hug Lv. 1]*
Livia's HUD flashed, her progress bar filling. *Level Up! Mental Supporter Lv. 2. New Passive: Emotional Resonance Lv. 1.* The system chimed: "Emotional Resonance: Your empathy amplifies trust in patients. Effect: +10% emotional breakthrough chance."
"I'm… getting better at this?" Livia muttered, stunned. Her robe glowed briefly, upgrading to a slightly less itchy version. *Perks of the job, I guess.*
Alaric staggered over, flask sloshing. "Buffer! I bet my holy sword on a goblin race. Lost to a slime. Again. Fix me!" His holy aura flickered, undercut by his ale-soaked breath.
Livia sighed, her sarcasm surfacing. "Maybe stop betting on slimes?" She tried a motivational approach. "Focus on your strengths, like… smiting evil. Or sobriety." Alaric nodded, teary-eyed, and vowed to "smite the bookie."
A ping: *[You redirected a paladin's gambling urge. +100 EXP]*
By noon, Livia's notepad was a mess of scribbles: *Phina: slime love. Nyx: dark phobia. Alaric: bet everything.* Her EXP climbed, each session unlocking a piece of her bizarre class. But the guild's chaos was relentless. A stray spell from Phina set a tent ablaze, Nyx vanished mid-session, and Alaric tried to bet Livia's notepad on a "sure thing." Miles watched it all, his smirk unreadable.
Livia slumped, exhausted. *I'm their therapist now. Officially.* Her introversion screamed for a break, but a flicker of pride stirred. She'd helped—sort of. A final notification flashed: *[You stabilized a guild of lunatics. Achievement Unlocked: Accidental Savior. Skill Upgraded: Group Therapy Lv. 2]*
She closed her notepad, muttering, "I'm either a genius or doomed." Miles approached, his voice low. "Not bad, rookie. Keep this up, and we might not implode." His smirk softened, just for a second, and Livia felt a chill. This guild wasn't just chaotic—they needed her. And that scared her more than any dragon.
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