The Suspicious Counseling Room of the Lewd Black Mage (1)
"Huh."
Raban scratched his head. Was this school out of its mind?
"So, you're saying my duties have changed?"
"Something like that. Truth is, we already have plenty of cleaning staff for the school grounds."
The administrative director who had summoned Raban informed him that he no longer needed to clean around the school perimeter—he could just stay in the counseling room for one hour after classes ended and then head home.
What the hell are they thinking? It was a sudden switch. No sane school would make such a reckless personnel shuffle. Especially not...
"Uh... you do know I have amnesia, right?"
This wasn't some romantic era ruled by arbitrary whims. Handing student counseling over to an amnesiac nobody without a single qualification?
Raban's mental danger sensors blared alarms.
This is 100% a mascot plot.
The moment he showed any sign of funny business with the students, they'd summon a magical girl for a merciless purge. Raban couldn't hide his horror at these insidious mascot bastards using kids as bait.
"Yes."
The director, dressed head to toe in a crisp black suit, responded calmly.
"Truth is, we don't really expect actual counseling. The key is the presence of an 'adult' itself."
Kids can open up to peers about things they can't tell grown-ups. Sometimes, that's enough to solve the issue. But some problems can't be fixed just by venting, and handling those requires an adult.
"Stuff like 'I can't focus on studying today' or 'I don't know which club to join'—the kids can sort that out among themselves. But when school violence or family issues get involved, adult intervention is essential."
Cases needing police, local counseling centers, or other external help. And, in the rare event a student flips out, the physical strength to restrain them. That was why they needed an 'adult.'
"Since the regular counselor went on leave, nothing that serious has come up yet. But we need a point of contact for cases the kids can't handle on their own."
In a situation like now, with no one in charge, they couldn't even proceed to the next step in problem resolution.
"So it's not really counseling—more like an emergency contact."
"Exactly. If the kids ask for help, just summarize the case for me."
A few routine questions followed. The kind any normal adult would ask when suddenly offered an unexpected role.
'Why not do it yourself, Director?'
'Too busy sitting in the counseling room.'
'Why me, of all people?'
'You're the newest hire, no fixed duties yet—reassigning you won't mess up the schedule.'
That was enough. Raban plastered on a reluctant expression and nodded.
"Well... the counseling room's warm in winter, cool in summer. Suits me fine."
...Yeah, probably having a convo like that.
Raban smirked, imagining the mascots—strangely cat-like white critters—plotting in hushed tones.
Winning over client students was amateur hour. Just yesterday he'd been chasing that amateur bait, but now? Screw it. Why bother with dozens of faceless kids when he could score a bigger haul from one prime target?
Nai Hyun alone was enough to sink his straw into. Brimming loneliness, seething resentment—if he could harness that for his own power...
He could fill maybe a third of the mana needed for dimensional travel. And it'd barely ping the mascots' radar. One versus dozens? The risk factor was night-and-day.
If I were ripping out souls, sure, but harvesting negative thoughts? Doesn't even show.
Normally, it would show. You can't just extract the 'negative' sediment from a human soul without touching the rest. And cherry-picking negatives was inefficient anyway—burn the whole soul as an offering, and the mana doubles. Why bother filtering?
But Raban was a black mage skilled in two ways. First, he could wring negativity from his own boiling rage down to a single strand of hair. Second, he'd learned the hard way: to survive as a black mage, keep your head down.
He'd known it even before becoming one. In that other world where he'd washed up, humans were bottom-tier weaklings. Even after gaining power, being branded public enemy number one was a nightmare.
This wasn't raiding a demon lord's vault. Experience had drilled his first principle into him: Live quietly.
He wouldn't have punched out a Behemoth and yanked its heart without certainty he'd never cross paths with that world again.
What a hassle this is.
A wave of futility hit him. Raban shook his head, steeling himself. Gather mana and bail. Once back home, he could laugh off this shadow-mascot government's nightmare world as a tall tale.
Gathering his thoughts, Raban opened the counseling room door.
The counseling room's vibe was unexpected.
"Ah-ha."
Nai Hyun was waving first off. Three or four other students behind her.
"What? Didn't ask what it means?"
"Means you're the old man they assigned, duh. I-hyun-ah. Who's the crew?"
"Yup. Peer counselors. You're filling in as counselor temporarily, right? Figured we'd say hi."
With Nai Hyun's quick intro, the kids started chattering. Raban felt his sanity draining fast.
Black mages were supposed to hole up in dank lairs, cackling suspiciously over organ stew. Their social skills were so trash, masters sometimes stabbed disciples—or vice versa—when they got burdensome.
Raban was a super-loner black mage, self-taught without even that. High schoolers' sparkling youth was toxic to him!
"Exhausted..."
Raban finally caught his breath. Lunchtime chatter from the peer counselors had been nonstop. Only the pre-bell warning chime chased them off.
He already felt drained dry.
Maybe they're too hyper, and that's why no one else comes?
Introverts shrink from extreme extroverts. Raban admired his own insightful theory.
Still, not a total waste of chit-chat.
These kids were peer counselors—close to Nai Hyun. But even among them, she floated a bit apart. Like a thick encyclopedia set tucked in a library corner: imposing presence, zero attention.
Perfect. Keep it up!
The 'acquaintance who shows up when you're bored and lonely' position!
A week later.
Ah.
Raban wanted to sigh.
"Teacher, got counseling after school!"
"I got no certs, so I'm not a teacher..."
I'm just a seat-filler. Raban grumbled weakly.
Not everyone sticking around for "counseling" was serious. Plenty just wanted to chat.
"That kid from last time left a bear plush as a gift!"
"Why? Just stick it on the desk."
Rubbing his eyes, Raban stood. The room's air was too damn fresh. Black mages needed cave dankness, at least a musty closet stink.
Why's everyone flocking here?
It started with Nai Hyun's classmate, the class president.
"Schne Haidel."
A student with flowing lavender hair. Hikarius City's rainbow dyes never got less jarring.
Raban nodded. "Schne. What's up?"
"...I want to talk to you, Teacher."
Unfamiliar face, so polite mode. Raban checked peer counselor schedules, then paused at the oddity.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Look, kid, I'm just temp seat-filler. Way better chatting with your peer counselor pals."
"It's about friend troubles."
Raban closed his eyes. Why skip great friends for the amnesiac (persona) old guy?
"One of my friends—Nai Hyun."
Ah. Raban nodded. Some woes drive you to friends 'cause adults won't get it; others send you to adults to avoid friends knowing. This was clearly the latter.
He sized it up. No confidence in counseling—he'd lived solo in the other world, what advice could he give? But dodging for that excuse? Too much mana on the line.
This Schne girl brimmed with exceptional mana. Comparable to Nai Hyun. Extract the negativity, and it'd help big time.
"I can only offer general advice, but if that's fine, sure—I'm listening."
Raban flashed his salesman smile!