I Accidentally Became the Guild's Therapist
Chapter 34: The World Without Her
Livia Marcelline Quinn was gone.
Not logged out. Not cloaked in some sneaky rogue build. Not even a corrupted data string. Just… missing.
Vanished.
The game itself seemed to shudder, its code grieving her absence. The air in Bloodbath & Beyond's guild garden hung heavy, like a server on the edge of a crash. Petals from the forbidden botany romance—slime-tulip weddings that Livia's empathy had sparked—hovered mid-air, defying gravity, as if the engine refused to let them fall. The wedding arch, glitched and glowing faintly purple, pulsed with a faint hum, like a heartbeat skipping.
Phina Duskveil stood frozen before it, her mystic runes dim, her fingertips sparking with unshed magic. "It's not just her data," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "It's like the world forgot how to breathe without her." Her eyes, usually bright with fervor, were dull, searching the arch for answers it wouldn't give.
Alaric, the chaotic gambler, flicked through his HUD, his face grim as he scrolled endlessly. "Her profile string… it's gone. Not deleted. Not corrupted. Just… missing." His dice lay untouched on a nearby table, their usual clatter silenced by the weight of her absence.
Bron, the unyielding tank, stood like a statue beside a flickering vending machine, its screen stuck on "Slime Vow Rings: 90% Glitch Rate!"
A single flower crown, woven from virtual tulips, clung to his shield's edge. "I felt her standing next to me," he whispered, voice rough as gravel. "Then the light blinked, and she was gone." His massive frame seemed smaller, hunched under the loss.
Glimmer, the emotional slime with too much heart and not enough form, dimmed to a faint pink glow, its surface barely rippling. It let out quiet grief-pulses, like sobs caught in code, each one a faint echo of Livia's Verbal Hug. The guild's 75 players—mages, warriors, archers—stood scattered across the garden, their emotes muted, their chatter replaced by a hollow hum. The HUDs of all, from the newest recruit to the grizzled raid leaders, flashed the same error:
[Entity: Livia Marcelline Quinn. Status:Untraceable.]
Miles Vexley sat at the garden's center, his psychoblade dormant, his normally impassive face carved in stone. He hadn't spoken since the crash that stole her. Hadn't logged out. His hand rested on a half-glitched logbook, its golden pulse—Livia's pulse—extinguished. The guild's heart was missing, and the silence was deafening.
Phina broke it, her voice sharp. "Say it."
"No." Miles's tone was a blade, cutting off the thought.
"You're thinking it."
His head turned slowly, eyes like daggers. "We don't say she's deleted."
"Then where is she, Miles?" Nyx asked, voice cracking, a damp towel still draped over his head from the hot spring before the crash. His Hello Kitty flashlight lay forgotten, its beam dim. "She's not in any system list. Not in the logs. Even bug reports won't touch her. What do we do when the game loses the one who made it feel real?" No one answered. The garden's air shimmered, as if the server itself was holding its breath.
In the capital's bustling market, NPCs began to glitch. A merchant froze mid-pitch, his eyes locked on the sky, voice trembling: "The Empathic One… is silent. The flowers weep." His stall, usually loud with "Buy Soul Vows! 80% Glitch Rate!" ads, stood eerily quiet, his wares untouched.
In a beginner zone, the slime-tulip wedding altar floated, glitched and radiant, its petals etched with ghost-text: "She listened. And so we bloomed." Players logged in just to stare, some swearing they heard Livia's voice in the wind—"Breathe in for four." Others posted screenshots, their captions raw: "Livia was here."
Deep in a high-tier dungeon, a raid boss refused to spawn. Instead, it crouched in a cave, weeping pixelated tears. Its loot table glitched, offering only "[Livia's Echo: Untradeable]." Its roar, once a server-shaking bellow, looped into a sobbing wail. The tooltip read: [Livia was here.] Even the wildlife acted off. Digital sparrows perched on glitched branches, their songs replaced by mournful chirps. Slimes in the wilds stopped bouncing, clustering in quiet circles, their glows dimmed to match Glimmer's. The game's code seemed to mourn, its mechanics bending under an unseen weight.
PLAYER FORUMS – MELTDOWN MODE
> @LoveBugged: "WHERE. IS. LIVIA." loaded with a lot of crying emojis
@PetalProphet: "No joke, my NPC girlfriend won't talk to me anymore. She just says, 'I miss her.'"
@DebugMeDaddy:"This isn't a glitch. This is a narrative virus. We're all infected with emotion."
@SlimeCultLeader: "Tulip + Blorbo wedding was just the beginning. She's the Love Singularity. #BringBackLivia"
@ServerModOmega:"We are currently reviewing the anomaly tagged NPC_LVIA. Please do not engage in unsanctioned lore speculation. Thank you for your patience."
@StreamerTears: "I set up an altar in the guild garden. Everyone came. Even the popcorn dragon came back and wept buttery tears."
#WhereIsTheTherapist
#ServerCantCope
#LiviaLives
Players shared clips of glitched NPCs whispering Livia's phrases, their voices layered with static. A rogue posted a video of a slime carving "LMQ" into a tree, sparking 7.5M views. The forums weren't just buzzing—they were grieving.
Miles finally stood, his movement slow, like a storm brewing before a system crash. His psychoblade hummed faintly, its edge catching the garden's dim light. "She broke the system with empathy," he said, voice low, controlled. "And they couldn't process it."
Phina's eyes flashed, her runes sparking. "Couldn't handle it," She'scorrecting.
Because it was real."
"We'll find her," Miles said, his tone iron.
"How?" Bron asked, his shield sagging. "She's not traceable."
"We don't need a trace," Miles said. "We need a fracture."
His console pinged—a single ghost-signal flickered from a forbidden zone, deep in the server's uncharted code. It wasn't a map marker. It wasn't a quest ping. But it was enough to spark hope.
Glimmer pulsed faintly, its voice a whisper: "You said, 'Breathe in for four.' You poured light into those who forgot their own." Its runes glowed, a soft plea: "Find her, or the world dims." Livia's Therapist's Insight echoed in its words, a reminder of her golden touch.
The guild rallied. Bron hefted his shield, his loyalty a fortress: She's our heart. Phina's runes flared, her devotion a beacon: She's our light. Nyx grabbed his flashlight, his ease steadying: She's our spark. Alaric pocketed his dice, his awe fierce: She's our chaos. The 70 others—mages, warriors, archers—chanted her name, their emotes flooding the chat with hearts and tears.
Miles's eyes locked on the ghost-signal, his smirk gone. "We're not losing her." His hand tightened on his logbook, its pages blank but heavy with her absence. The guild's HUDs pinged in unison: [WORLD STATUS: EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY RISING]
[NEW PLAYER TRIGGERED QUEST: "Find the Lost Therapist" ] "You don't need a class to care. You just need to remember her name."
The garden's petals shivered, as if Livia's echo lingered. The guild moved as one, their steps shaking the server.
Writer's Note to You, Dear Reader :
You've followed Livia through dungeons of trauma and hot springs of emotional nudity. Now, she's gone.
But only to them.
You, dear reader, saw the signal.
You know where she's going.
Mainframe Prison awaits.
And someone waits in it.
Not the guild.
Not the system.
The Truthseeker.
[WORLD STATUS: EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY RISING]
[NEW PLAYER TRIGGERED QUEST: "Find the Lost Therapist"]
"You don't need a class to care. You just need to remember her name." You and 7.5M others have joined this quest.