Surviving as a Counselor (3): "Should I Make a Reservation Now?"

Light tone. But I could clearly tell. The question wasn't directed at me—it was a notice to the other maid.

I turned to look at the maids lined up. The five who had been bickering just moments ago, waiting only for me to call their names, now hung their heads with sullen expressions.

"Then we'll be going…."

"See you next time~…."

They backed away all at once.

The alley, packed just a moment ago, was now completely empty, without even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a trace of their presence.

…That much?

She obviously looked like a noble, but enough to make them all scatter like that?

I turned back. Radiant blonde hair. A wide-brimmed white hat perched lightly on top. A stylish, high-class dress.

I get it. She's pretty and noble-looking, sure, but enough to make them vanish on sight?

Well, whatever. Light thoughts. The maids were gone, and she was the only customer left. So, only one thing to do.

"No, it's first-come, first-served. Come on in."

I had no choice but to treat her as a customer.

She looked around the narrow counseling office as soon as she stepped inside. One rickety desk. Two sofas. That was everything, so her gaze quickly turned to me.

Lightly gathering the hem of her dress, she gave a faint eye smile.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Chloe Levantia."

A neat bow that didn't disturb even a single wrinkle in her dress. Straight out of a textbook—pure noble etiquette.

Levantia… I'd definitely heard that name a few days ago.

'I work as the head maid for the Levantia Count family.'

Helen. That was the name she'd given when she came here as their head maid.

And Helen had paid in silver coins, unlike the other maids. So, the lady she served…

…At least the money's solid.

"I'm Isaac, the counselor running this place."

"I see."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"I can call you Counselor, right?"

Then she covered her mouth with the end of her sleeve and smiled. Through that elegant gaze, I could feel her observing me.

She watched me for a moment, then tilted her head slightly.

Her eyes swept over the desk.

Ah.

Normally, you'd serve at least a cup of tea, right?

But the counseling office had none of that. Not even a cup to pour water into.

The customers so far had only been Marie or the maids she introduced. They squeezed in time from their shifts, so no need for formalities…

But is it okay to receive a noble like this? Probably not.

"As Helen said, it's so simple…."

Lady Levantia seemed to understand the meaning of my gaze but looked at my blank expression before speaking.

"…No, frugal."

That split-second courtesy, changing "simple" to "frugal." Not having even a cup for water stung a little.

"…I'm ashamed. The place just opened, so I can't offer proper hospitality."

"No need."

She waved her hand lightly.

"Yet customers line up—that proves your skill, doesn't it?"

A smiling mouth. Blue eyes slightly open. It felt like praise, but not quite.

Damn. Definitely not good.

In this short exchange, she'd already taken control. The conversation flow, the leisure to set the mood.

Still, no real problem.

"First, tell me."

Once counseling started, none of it would matter anyway.

"What troubles you?"

Lady Levantia placed her clasped hands on the desk.

"You want to know a lady's heart? How indecent."

Playful tone. But the voice that followed had no playfulness.

"Anyway, can you imagine it? A life always conscious of others' gazes."

Our eyes met briefly, then she continued.

"When you wake up in the morning, know what the first thought is?"

"What?"

"How perfect do I need to be today?"

Her blue eyes turned toward the window.

"In society, every single step gets judged. The angle of your smile, the depth of your bow, the height of the hand lifting your teacup. Everything's scored."

"Sounds tough."

"Not tough—boring."

Her deep eyes turned to me.

"Boring's worse than tough. No end in sight."

Even talking hardship, her face always smiled. Talking boredom, her eyes smiled too.

That's how I knew. Her smile was thoroughly trained—a shackle she couldn't remove.

Calculated expressions. Designed movements. Someone who'd lived this way her whole life was confiding in me.

Thinking that, I felt a pang of pity, but cowardly as I was, my inner thought was:

'Now?'

Yeah, now. The moment she entrusts her heart works best.

Her ever-smiling eyes slowly closed.

The mouth describing her controlled life stopped at, "So I always—"

One, two, three.

Zzz—

Slightly parted lips. The perfect smile gone—now just a sleeping face.

…Hmm. Not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly ladylike snoring.

Thinking something that'd make her blush beet-red and scold me if she heard, I stood.

Went behind her and placed hands on her shoulders.

Tense shoulders. Similar to the maids', but no labor-hardened traces. Pure tension.

Same treatment anyway. Thumbs and index fingers kneading shoulders. Ring fingers pressing wing bones. Repeat.

"Ng…."

A faint moan, and her stiff shoulders slowly dropped.

Her body gradually tilted to one side, breathing evening out.

"Hng…."

15 minutes, listening to moans leak as knots released.

I withdrew my hands and naturally sat opposite.

Body seemed relaxed now—should be fine.

"Lady Levantia. How do you feel?"

Her eyes slowly opened. One second for focus to return. Another to recognize me.

Then, the faint eye smile snapped back instantly.

Ingrained habit? The speed was terrifying.

"I see."

She nodded slightly.

"Seeing others' gazes not as a burden to endure, but as part of self-control."

She glanced at her lighter shoulders briefly.

"Interesting perspective. Not that I fully agree."

Same as the others. Relaxed body. Memory of missing time. She believed we'd talked, fabricating the conversation herself.

Her attitude was 'just your view, not agreeing,' but that was surface. Truth in her eyes: the evaluating gaze gone, replaced by pure trust.

"True enough."

I nodded along, waiting for the fee moment…

"But."

…But?

"What if you don't want a controlled life?"

Not ending.

Lady Levantia leaned slightly on the sofa, continuing. Her voice lighter than before. Shoulders down from tension, back not ramrod-stiff.

Massage definitely worked.

"I know it's the fate of blue blood. But sometimes it's hard to bear."

She tilted her head.

"What do you think, Counselor?"

Hold on. Why isn't the session ending?

…Oh. She had no awareness of falling asleep. Conversation still ongoing in her mind. She just thought I'd asked "How do you feel?" mid-chat, so she kept going.

Ah. How I phrase the end when hypnosis lifts matters?

"I hesitate to share my thoughts with Lady Levantia, but…."

"I'm curious. Please do."

I had no idea what conversation she'd fabricated for those blank 15 minutes. So I rambled generic stuff—like self-help book fodder.

"People say effort is invisible, but I think it exists. The moment it becomes visible."

Generic effort philosophy.

"How about finding something to pour your heart into? Endless effort alone wears the body down."

Don't overdo effort—relax and play sometimes.

Even with this disjointed nonsense, her blue eyes sparkled.

"The moment invisible effort becomes visible…."

That's usually called results.

Anyway, I kept up vague talk, hoping she'd open up.

"How do you find something to pour your heart into?"

Hobby.

"Hard in society, right?"

Hobby.

…Not ending.

'OK. No choice.'

Meant to save it for the next customer, but oh well.

"So what I mean is—"

Now.

"—Lately, society especially…."

Eyes slowly closed.

Good—second hypnosis, no diminished effect.

As if to prove it, the sound ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came.

Zzz—

Quickly circled behind the sofa. Arms this time—shoulders already done.

Kneaded forearms. Pressed palms.

"Hnghe…."

What was that sound?

She'd been such an elegant lady moments ago.

Gently loosening the knotted inner arm flesh, her body sank deeper into the sofa.

Disheveled blonde hair. Parted lips. Head tilted to one side.

What if society saw her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like this?

…I'd be dead.

Finished quickly and sat opposite.

Moments later.

"There, session's over."

Planned to end it firmly this time.

"…Ah, I see."

Half-lidded eyes. Definitely more relaxed expression than before.

She stared right through me.

1 second. 2. 3.

What're you looking at?

"Any next reservation slots…?"

"No, no reservations."

I clasped my hands.

"Can't turn away waiting customers."

So please go now, Lady. Tried hiding that, but…

She just parted the curtain to peek outside.

Empty alley, same as when she arrived.

Confirmed, whipped her head around.

"Seems free, so I'll impose a bit longer."

"……."

Lady Levantia sat back on the sofa and gave a bright smile.

"As you just said, Counselor…."

Quoting words I never said to start.

Society-honed skill, huh?

Could just grab a maid and chat then…

'Maids have strict hierarchy.'

No one to chat casually with usually. Every word judged in society, lady facade at home.

But here? Shabby no-water counseling office. No eyes. No judgment. Space to speak freely.

I get it. I do.

But hypnosis has limits.

Racked my brain, but no solutions.

Waiting might bring customers, but she was priority now. Plus her distorted memory of me saying something—I couldn't even guess what.

Dragging this out wouldn't end well.

'Fine. Handle it yourself.'

"—At that tea party, Lady Veronica."

Words trailing off with some rude name.

Eyes closed. Head drooped.

Zzz—

Now-familiar snoring.

I sighed and went behind the sofa again.

Everything else loosened—neck and temples it was.

Squish-press.

"Hnghee—"

Weird sounds as I went.

"Uhnghee—"

15 minutes later, back to my seat.

"……."

Blue eyes slowly opened.

Definitely different now. No observing gaze—just hazy eyes. Languid expression of someone drained of tension.

"First counseling… not bad at all."

She rose slowly, straightening her dress hem.

"Then, excuse me."

Like it was decent but nothing special. Like casual chat before leaving.

Only at the door did she remember, pulling a pouch from her bosom.

Light bow, left the pouch, gone.

Door shut—I quickly opened it. Jingle— Eight silver coins sparkled.

"For real."

Despite those weird "hnghe" moans.

Paid my month's rent easy?

Worship, Levantia family.

No hypnosis left that day—closed early.

Celebrating starvation risk way back.

After that, back to uneventful routine.

Open shop. Take first three maids in line.

Once used up, hang sign out front.

Repeat.

No big spender like Lady Levantia again, but all paid more than the set fee.

"Teacher, at least a simple bento—"

"I-I made these cookies!"

Most left gifts like this, saving on food costs.

Stable income. Free bentos. Overflowing cookies.

'From banished duke's bastard to this.'

Pretty good variation, no?

Just keep this up.

Then one day.

"…Something's off?"

Usually, maids waited before I even opened.

Only three slots a day, but extras for "just in case" or "at least take this gift."

Morning chatter was routine.

"Unusually quiet today."

Coincidence—no customers? Headed to first floor to open anyway.

"Hm… don't see any…."

Then I saw it. A pervert with nose smooshed against the window, peeking in.

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. White dress.

'…What the hell is this person?'

Lady Levantia had her face practically glued to the glass, hands shading to peer inside.

Our eyes met through the window.

Hers went wide, then "Ahem." Fake cough, and she moved to the door like nothing happened.

I opened up—and there, from the alley end, two maids came dashing: regulars Marie and Lize.

But the moment they spotted the blonde lady in front, they froze.

Then backed away.

Urrr.

…Ah.

Thought she was a great big-spending customer.

Turns out she's a customer-chasing demon.

I made a troubled face, and Lady Levantia—who'd cleared the place just by existing—covered her mouth and gave a small laugh.

Then, pretending she saw nothing, did nothing, softly:

"Quiet today, huh?"

Well, one lady beat multiple maids in profit.

I just hated picking and choosing customers—tugged at something instinctive.

If she'd done something crude or ugly to chase them, different story…

"Mind if I get a session?"

But if they left on their own seeing her there… no helping it.

Right before I said "come in."

She gazed at me with blue eyes holding the morning sun.

Flushed cheeks. Sweet lips.

She added one line.

"As long as possible. Long."

…Wrists are gonna suffer today.