The Three Women Taehyun Saved Came to My Counseling Room

Return to the royal castle.

The main gate comes into view as I step down from the carriage. White ramparts. The kingdom's flag. Guards snapping salutes. The same scenery as when I returned from the front, but the feeling is different. Back then it was the relief of at least I survived; now it's the satisfaction of a job finished.

An absurdly perfect homecoming.

And Helga's lips still linger. In front of the knights' keep, before departure — instead of a farewell, she kissed me. Right in front of the knights in the middle of morning drills.

"Next time you come, stay longer."

She left those words and turned her back. Silver hair swayed in the wind. The knights stared, dumbstruck. Helga the instructor — flawless for two years — had kissed a man. The rumor spreading was a certainty.

Helga had chosen not to hide the relationship in front of her knights. Explaining that choice on her behalf was not my place.

The queen's office.

Queen Elena sat at her desk, golden hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. Purple eyes lifted to me.

"You did well with Leublan's arrest and securing the intelligence line."

The praise was precise in its scope. She did not say I'd done well on the mission as a whole.

I had split the report into three bundles. The first held Leublan's arrest, Lila's capture, and the results of the false intelligence we fed them. The second, Taehyun's death and the rescue of the three knights. The third contained my final order to Belka and the black tablet. The queen's purple eyes swept over them quickly — her fingers turned the pages faster than the summary I'd prepared — but she stopped at the third bundle.

"You captured the First Squad Leader."

"Yes."

"There may be another informant inside the knight order."

"Lila's testimony points to one more — a rookie knight placed within the last six months."

"The name."

"Lila didn't know it either. It seems to be a line managed directly by a higher commander."

Elena closed the first report and moved the third to the top.

"Belka was already subdued, then."

"Yes."

"Even so, was he an immediate threat at that point?"

"No."

"A prisoner under orders to kill, who had just killed Taehyun — and so you were enraged. Do you think that explanation suffices?"

"It explains. It doesn't justify."

"Good. At least you don't hide behind words."

The queen laid Helga's field record beside my handwritten report and compared them line by line. The two arrows Belka had fired, the questioning after his subdual, where the black tablet was found — even the moment I pocketed the evidence and handed it back out — everything matched.

"Hand over the third-level usage rules."

I passed her the copy Helga and I had drafted. Elena pressed the royal seal beneath the newly added line: Suggestions that determine life or death are forbidden except in emergency defense.

"Until the review is complete, this clause is an order, not a recommendation. Memory reading only with an investigator or designated observer present. Group linkage is prohibited pending separate approval."

"I accept."

"Accepting isn't the end of it. Break the rules and you'll be removed from every mission that requires your ability — immediately. And I won't leave the checks to Helga alone, either. I'm assigning you a royal record keeper."

Kill a man right after gaining power, then be met with nothing but praise in the very next scene, and the difference between me and whoever forged that black tablet disappears. The brake had to be authority, not sentiment.

The queen set the report down. Her fingertip tapped once against the edge of the desk — her habit when deliberating.

"Continue the internal investigation of the knight order. But right now, another task comes first."

"Another task?"

"Requests for 'mental fortification training' are flooding in from the knight order. Apparently your record at the front got out."

"Already?"

"Already. Knights' mouths move faster than you'd think. Especially success stories with numbers attached — those spread through the taverns in no time."

Forty-seven people had had their acute symptoms eased at the front, but only fifteen were confirmed to have actually returned to combat. The rumor, flattened into "fifty treated, return rates up thirty percent," was more glamorous — and more dangerous.

"May I correct the figures?"

"You must. Don't sell recovery and return as the same word."

"Take charge of the knights' mental training. As the official work of the Royal Psychologist."

"Understood."

The queen rose and came toward me. Close. Her perfume drifted faintly — not roses, but a deeper flower.

"Do-hyun."

"Yes."

"What exactly is your relationship with Helga?"

Ah. The rumor had already reached the castle. Information traveled faster than the carriage that carried me home.

"We've grown close outside of duty as well. The sessions I was conducting with her ended before anything private began, and her follow-up checks were handed off to another counselor."

"A working relationship that includes kissing in front of the entire knight order?"

"I have no intention of hiding it behind the word 'work.'"

"Good. I've no intention of meddling in your private life itself. But when treatment authority and personal ties overlap, both people get hurt. Mind the blurring of boundaries, not the number of relationships."

This was closer to a warning than advice. Whatever ambiguity sat on the queen's face, the standard underneath was clear.

"Thank you."

"Go and prepare. The knight order training starts tomorrow."

As I stepped out of the office, the queen's voice flew after my back one more time.

"Do-hyun."

I turned.

"Helga is a good person. The most solid knight I know, in fact. Hurt her, and it won't be just you they answer to — the entire knight order will move."

"......I'll keep that in mind."

Elena had warned that wounding Helga would turn the whole knight order against me. Then she studied the black tablet on its sealing cloth for a long while. She didn't lift it barehanded; she called in the record keeper and had both faces of the tablet examined under a magnifying lens.

"It's not in the royal heraldry records."

"The demons' regular command staff claims not to recognize it either."

"Don't conclude it stands above crown and demons just because both sides are ignorant of it."

"There's one more clue with a similar arrangement. The thirteen dots on the forged requisitions."

The record keeper overlaid the thirteen lines along the tablet's edge with rubbings of the earlier forgeries, all on the same sheet. The narrow gap between the first and second marks, the long blank after the eighth — they resembled one another.

"The same maker?"

"Only similarity confirmed. With just two samples, certainty isn't possible."

Elena sent the black tablet to the royal investigation office and had the forged documents, the records of the battle at Arnon, and the death register of the summoned heroes cross-checked by different officers — so that no single person could bend all the material toward a convenient conclusion.

"And this tablet is an object. Don't try to wring answers out of it with your ability."

"I've confirmed as much already — I have no intention of reading it."

"Then find the traces people left. Who made it, who carried it, and who looked upon that emblem and still never recorded it."

The mastermind did not whisper from inside the tablet. It hid in a blank line of a ledger, in a swapped seal, in thirteen marks repeating at identical intervals.

The next day. The royal castle's knight training hall.

A spacious indoor floor. A place for swinging swords on any other day; today, chairs had been arranged for "mental fortification training." Thirty knights sat in them — men and women mixed, most in their twenties.

"I'm Kang Do-hyun, Royal Psychologist. Starting today, I'll be running the knight order's mental fortification training."

The knights buzzed. "What does a psychologist even do?" "I heard he pulled off something incredible at the front." "Is he a mage?" "Can he even swing a sword?"

Reaching third level did not mean thirty minds spread open before me as figures. I could see who breathed too fast, who had taken a seat near the door, who hadn't let go of her scabbard — but behavior alone wasn't a diagnosis. Their precise ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠states would have to come from comparing the anonymous checklists each would write against individual interviews.

"Before we begin, let me lay out the rules."

I wrote four lines on the blackboard in front of the chairs.

"Can a Royal Psychologist really keep secrets in front of the knight order?" one of the knights called from the back.

"Unless a life — yours or someone else's — is in immediate danger, individual content never goes into command reports. The command staff receive only attendance figures, training topics, and overall trends."

The royal record keeper sat at one side of the hall and transcribed that promise word for word. For once, the presence of someone monitoring my every word was the very foundation of trust.

A male knight raised his hand.

"I don't get what mental fortification training ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is. It's not sword instruction, right?"

"Swordsmanship strengthens the body. Mental fortification strengthens the mind. How to keep fear from ruling you in combat, how to recover from trauma, how to hold your focus."

"That's actually possible?"

"At the front, forty-seven people had acute symptoms eased. Of those, fifteen are confirmed to have returned to actual combat. That doesn't mean the rest failed — some chose limited duty and evacuation treatment."

The knights went quiet. Less dazzling than a glossy thirty percent, but return and recovery had to be told apart. Then another hand went up — a woman knight.

"Can someone come back from the front like that? I lost a friend at the front, and her husband can't even leave the house now."

"It's possible. It takes time, but it's possible — if he wants it."

"From what I've seen, he does. But I haven't been able to ask him straight out."

"Then I won't take his address. Instead, I'll give you a counseling information sheet. Get it to your friend's husband, and have him reach out when he himself is ready."

"Can't I just go to him and persuade him?"

"The reason he can't leave the house and the reason he doesn't want to see people may not be the same. Even a home visit is something he has to choose."

The knight took the sheet and nodded. The mood of the training hall turned noticeably more careful.

...Feeling warmed by all this makes me laughable. That woman is genuinely worried for her friend's husband, and here I am, standing in front of that sincerity, running the numbers — trust in the psychologist, accumulating. Fucked up, honestly. Sincerity and calculation coming out of the same mouth.

"The first exercise is self-observation. Close your eyes if you like; if that's uncomfortable, fix your gaze on a single spot on the floor. Feel your own state as it is right now."

Ten minutes of guided meditation. No [Suggestion] — pure psychological technique.

Ten never closed their eyes, and two walked out partway through. I marked neither as failures. Noticing your own limit and stepping out was closer to today's goal than gritting your teeth to the end.

For the final five minutes, each person wrote down one reaction that had stayed in the body after the training. Trembling hands, ringing ears, an aching shoulder, fear when a door shut. No names. When the papers were shuffled and read out, the reaction each had believed was theirs alone turned up again and again across a dozen sheets.

Training ended, and the knights filed out. "Better than I expected." "My head feels clearer." "I'm coming to the next one."

The response was good. And three people remained until the very last.

Karin.

Red hair came charging at me, chair kicked back — she literally ran, full sprint.

"Do-hyun!!!"

Hug. The twenty-two-year-old knight hit me head-on, arms wrapping around me. Her chest pressed into mine. Sunlight in the scent of red hair.

...Fuck, it starts the second she's in my arms. Chest against chest, and my lower stomach tightens with no say from me at all. I bore down with my thigh on the cock trying to sneak its head up. Press. Hold it, damn it. What kind of psychologist answers a girl who sprinted over and threw herself into his arms after a month with a hard-on? Settle down, Kang Do-hyun.

It twitched. Once.

"You came! You really came!"

"Karin."

"I applied for a permanent posting to the capital knight order! I got in! I'm here!"

Karin looked up at me. Green eyes sparkling. A bright face dusted with freckles. The angle of her looking up at me from her small 165-centimeter frame was, all over again, adorable. One month since we'd parted at the front.

"Have you been well?"

"Yep! Totally! My arm's fully healed and I've started sword training again!"

Her right arm was clean. Hardly a mark from the bandages. A young knight's recovery.

"And knight life?"

"So good! My squadmates treat me great!"

Her squadmates. The two standing behind Karin.

"Oh, right — proper introductions this time!"

Eva was twenty-six, a knight with golden hair and blue eyes. She wore a smile constantly, but her breath shortened by half a beat whenever Taehyun's name surfaced. Sophie was twenty-four, with short black hair and silver eyes; even in the middle of greeting me, she checked the door and the position of my hands, one after the other.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

Today I only observed. What I'd promised first wasn't treatment — it was confirming each other's pace.

I also checked, separately, whether the brief stabilization done outside the warehouse had worn off. Karin said the fear had climbed back, but that she could now choose her own breathing; Eva said the unease returned whenever she wasn't smiling; Sophie said her shoulders still locked up whenever a man came close.

I did not record the effects running out as failure. It was simply the result of the promise being kept — the one to use it only until sunrise.

"Do the three of us have to receive it together from now on?" Eva asked.

"No. Only the opening and the final review happen together; personal records and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠consent for any application are taken entirely separately. Even wanting to know each other's session content requires the person's permission first."

"What if I permit it on Karin's behalf?"

"Not permitted."

"And if Karin permits it on mine?"

"Also not permitted."

Eva nodded without smiling. The fact that the three of them guarded one another, and the fact that none of them could decide for another, stood together — and both were true.

"We want the mental fortification training too!" Karin declared.

"Can't you just take it with the thirty?"

"Nope, private training! Deeper! Stronger!"

"Why?"

"Because I want to get stronger!"

Green eyes shone. Pure sincerity. The front had left Karin wanting to be stronger.

Eva chimed in.

"Me too! Karin came back from the front completely changed. If that secret is with you, Mr. Psychologist, then I want it too. I haven't been sleeping well lately, anyway."

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Yes. I don't know why. Memories keep floating up, I guess."

My hunch that something lived behind her excessive brightness had been right. Eva half suspects it herself — she knows, and presses it down while pretending not to. That state endures the longest, and collapses the most completely in a single blow.

"And you, Sophie?"

Sophie looked at the floor, her left hand wrapped around her right wrist.

"...Me too."

A voice barely louder than a mosquito. But she said it. For someone who avoided people, that much took tremendous courage.

"Understood. We'll run separate training for the three of you."

Karin cheered. Eva clapped. Sophie lifted her head a little and looked at me; silver eyes met mine for an instant and dropped away again. Those half a seconds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were Sophie's maximum for the day.

"When can we start?"

"Tomorrow. Eva first, Karin second, Sophie third — in that order. One hour each."

"Yay! I'm number one!"

Karin balled her fist and threw a punch at the air. Eva laughed and bonked her on the head.

"This kid loves being first at anything."

"First is the best, sis."

Fucking love it.

Back in the Royal Psychologist's office, I drew up the first records for the three of them — separately.

Karin — survivor's guilt, recurring. Priority: restoring her own judgment and her own standard of safety.

Eva — the habit of hiding fear behind a smile. Priority: practicing how to ask for help.

Sophie — fear of men and dissociation. Priority: letting her set her own distance and her own contact.

I did not bundle the three together as "the women Taehyun saved." Even from the same event, wounds take different shapes.

On each record's cover I made the same three fields:

Karin chose only shallow emotional stabilization; Eva chose direct sentence revision with a value-adjustment review to follow; Sophie chose to defer all mental interference for the time being. Their stop signals differed as well — Karin's, the word stop; Eva's, two taps of a finger on the desk; Sophie's, turning her face toward the door.

I noted separately, too, how the door should sit during a session. For Karin, closed. For Eva, her own choice. For Sophie, half open. An environment that comforted one person could be a trap for another.

In the evening, the three of them brought a timetable they had drawn up themselves. Eva on the first day, Karin the next, and Sophie with short sessions three days running; on the final day, the three would review their condition together.

"We put the schedule together ourselves. Anything you'd change?" Karin asked.

"Nothing. But every session will begin by confirming again what's possible today."

Sophie raised her hand, very small.

"During my sessions, may the door stay half open?"

"It stays open until you want it closed, Sophie."

The next afternoon, the first person to stand before a closed door was Eva — the one who was always smiling.