I Accidentally Became the Guild's Therapist
Chapter 4: The Crazy Shrine in the Basement
Livia Marcelline Quinn, freshly leveled-up Emotional Buffer 2.0, was starting to think her new life as a Mental Supporter Lv. 2 wasn't the worst fate. Sure, the Bloodbath & Beyond guild was a walking disaster—Bron's existential meltdowns, Phina's slime poetry, Nyx's Hello Kitty flashlight obsession—but she'd survived their chaos, racking up EXP by soothing their absurd traumas. Her Therapist's Log was a mess of scribbles: Patient: Phina. Issue: Slime crush. Approach: Don't laugh. Her HUD glowed with new skills—Soothing Aura Lv. 1, Verbal Hug Lv. 1, Group Therapy Lv. 2—and her robe was slightly less itchy. Progress, right?Still, the camp's relentless chaos grated on her introverted soul. Players shouted about "raid metas," NPCs looped glitchy lines like "Error: Quest Data Corrupted," and a stray fireball nearly singed her hair. She sat on a salvaged bench, doodling a stick-figure slime in her notepad, muttering, "If I get one more 'Sentiment Processor' comment, I'm throwing this log at someone."
A notification pinged:[Achievement Unlocked: Grumpy Therapist. +10 Sarcasm Points (Still Cosmetic)] Livia swatted the air. "Yeah, yeah, system. Keep laughing." Her progress bar read Mental Supporter Lv. 2: 200/2000 EXP. She was one crying paladin away from another level, but the guild's base camp—a sprawling mess of tents, glowing runes, and what looked like a pet slime's bounce house—loomed like a psychological minefield. I need a break, she thought, her introversion screaming for solitude.
As if on cue, Miles Vexley, the Psychoblade Commander, sauntered over, his smirk sharp enough to cut through her defenses. "Yo, Buffer," he drawled, leaning against a tent pole. "You look like you're plotting an escape. Don't. We need you."
Livia shot him a deadpan glare. "Stop calling me Buffer. And I'm not escaping, I'm… strategizing." She waved her notepad vaguely, hoping it looked official.
Miles chuckled, his armor glinting with menace. "Strategizing, huh? Good luck. This guild's a dumpster fire, and you're our only extinguisher." He jerked his thumb toward the base. "C'mon, we're having a strategy meeting. You're invited. Don't ask why."
Livia's stomach sank. A meeting? With those lunatics? But Miles was already walking away, and her curiosity—curse it—dragged her after him.
A notification flashed : [Achievement Unlocked: Reluctant Team Player. +5 Cooperation Points (Dubious)] The guild's base was a labyrinth of chaos: enchanted weapons littered the ground, a slime juggled mana orbs, and Alaric, the gambling paladin, was trying to bet his boots on a "sure-thing" goblin race. Livia dodged a stray spell from Phina, who was reciting poetry to her slime, and nearly tripped over Nyx, who was hiding in a crate with his flashlight. "This place needs a health inspector," Livia muttered, scribbling: Guild Base: Hazard Level—Therapist's Nightmare.
Miles led her to a stone staircase descending into the base's underbelly. "Watch your step, rookie," he said, his tone teasing but edged with something unreadable. "This is where we keep the real treasures."
Livia raised an eyebrow. "Treasures? Like… loot?" Her gamer instincts perked up, imagining rare gear or at least a better robe.
Miles smirked. "Something like that."
The staircase spiraled into a dimly lit chamber, its walls etched with glowing runes that flickered like a bad internet connection. Livia's HUD pinged: Warning: Restricted Area. Access Level: Guild VIP Only. She froze. "Uh, Miles? I'm an NPC. I don't have VIP anything."
He waved a hand. "You're with me. System's fine with it."v His smirk widened, and Livia's gut screamed trap. But before she could bolt, the chamber's contents came into view, and her jaw hit the floor.
The room was a shrine—a deranged, obsessive shrine. Body pillows lined the walls, each emblazoned with Livia's face, her gray robe swapped for outfits she'd never wear (maid dress, really?). A statue of her stood in the center, carved mid-hug with a smiling slime, its plaque reading: Livia, Empath Eternal. Stacks of fanart—some alarmingly NSFW—spilled from crates, depicting her in scenes from "heroic therapist" to "slime queen." A glowing terminal displayed a subreddit feed: r/LiviaWaifuHub, 50k subscribers, "Best NPC of the Year!" Livia's face burned, her voice a strangled squeak. "What. Is. This?!" She spun to Miles, who was stifling a laugh. "You people built a creep shrine? To me?" Miles shrugged, grinning. "Not my idea. Blame the fans. You went viral after Bron's breakdown. Players in the real world are obsessed. There's even an ASMR of you saying 'breathe in for four."
Livia clutched her notepad, her introversion imploding. "This is a nightmare. I'm a background NPC! Why is there a body pillow of me in a bikini?" She pointed at a particularly egregious piece of fanart, her voice hitting a pitch she didn't know she had.
A notification blared : [You discovered your own NSFW shrine. +999 Embarrassment Points. Achievement Unlocked: I've Seen Too Much] Miles doubled over, laughing. "You're famous, Buffer! Own it."
"I don't want to own it!" Livia snapped, her sarcasm in overdrive. "I want to burn it! Where's the delete button for this entire room?" She paced, muttering, "I'm a therapist, not a waifu. I didn't sign up for this!" From the shadows, Nyx emerged, clutching his flashlight. "It's… not that bad," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "The art's… kinda nice." His blush was visible even under his hood, and Livia's horror deepened.
Phina glided in, her slime trailing behind. "A shrine to your empathic radiance!" she declared, clasping her hands."The fans capture your essence—though they lack the poetic nuance of your soul." The slime jiggled in agreement, and Livia seriously considered screaming.
Bron stomped in, oblivious to the tension. "Yo, Buffer! Saw your statue. Badass! You gonna sign my body pillow?" He held up a pillow with Livia's face, winking cartoonishly.
Livia buried her face in her notepad, scribbling: Shrine: Existential horror. Issue: I'm a meme. Approach: Cry forever. Her dry humor surfaced, barely keeping her sane. "This is worse than failing my thesis. At least that didn't involve slime fanart."
Miles clapped her shoulder, his smirk softening. "Relax, rookie. Fame's a weapon. Use it." He leaned closer, voice low. "Besides, this guild protects its own. Nobody touches our therapist—not players, not fans, not even the system."
Livia's chest tightened, a mix of dread and… warmth? They're protecting me? She shook it off, her sarcasm kicking in. "Great. My bodyguards are a crying tanker, a slime-obsessed mage, and a rogue scared of shadows. I'm doomed."
Another ping: [You survived your own shrine. Achievement Unlocked: Mortified Messiah. +10 Resilience Points (Questionable)] As the guild bickered—Bron demanding a shrine for himself, Phina composing a shrine ode, Nyx hiding again—Livia stared at the statue, her reflection distorted in its polished surface. She was just an NPC, right? A glitch in a game. But the guild's chaos, their need for her, felt real. Too real. And as Miles watched her, his smirk hiding something deeper, Livia realized she was in way over her head.