Contact Block—Withdrawal Therapy (2)

Kim Na-young's words. That trembling yet desperate voice made me clench my fist under the desk.

Good.

It worked. Perfectly.

Kim Na-young's lips quivered, her eyes anxious.

"So, what now? My oppas... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no, those guys. Do I have to cut them all off?"

She asked cautiously.

Honestly, if I'd stuck to my original method, I would've prescribed the exact opposite.

No, don't force it. Meet them more. Dive deeper, get stickier.

Hit the frenzy button, release the poison qi, and gulp it down in one go. That was the behavioral therapy this app suggested.

It had been the same with Park Min-jeong, and with Han Seo-yul too. Rather than suppressing desires, we amplified them.

But things were different now.

I've unlocked a new therapy.

It had happened just two days ago. After digesting two portions of poison qi and collapsing from exhaustion, I missed the text that popped up on the app.

It was a notification about unlocking a new therapy.

To sum up the description: It still triggers the corruption desire frenzy like before. But instead of me absorbing it all, the patient endures and neutralizes it themselves.

Since the poison qi gets neutralized, the pain I feel absorbing the remnants drops to about a quarter. Less burden on my body too.

Of course, the rewards shrink to a quarter as well...

But there was a bigger upside that offset that flaw.

It's easy to explain to others.

Think about it. What doctor tells a chain-smoker on the brink of lung cancer, "Smoke more, it'll cure you," and hands over a carton? They'd get labeled a quack or lunatic on sight.

That was the old therapy.

But say, "Quit smoking. Toss that lighter right now"?

Sensible. Logical.

What I needed now was that mask of "common sense."

"Um, Counselor...?"

"Yes. Na-young-ssi. Looks like you need to cut them off."

"Ah...."

A soft sigh escaped Kim Na-young's lips. Her shoulders visibly slumped.

"I knew it... I have to cut them all off? Delete contacts, block them...?"

"Yes, for the time being. But."

I spun my pen, pausing for effect. Her ears perked up.

"But?"

"It doesn't mean cut everyone off completely."

"Ah... Thank goodness. So, trim it down moderately? Like to ten guys?"

"No."

"Then?"

"One."

I held up a single index finger right in front of her eyes.

"Just one. Everyone else, cut them loose."

Kim Na-young's pupils shook. To her, "one" seemed like an alien ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠concept.

"One? Isn't that too few? What if he's busy or doesn't reply? What do I do?"

"Wait."

"Wait...?"

"Yes. That waiting is the core of the therapy."

I leaned forward, meeting her gaze.

"Maintaining one deep, intense relationship is better for treatment than fifty shallow, wide ones. We need to erase your old habits."

"Ugh... habits...."

Kim Na-young chewed her lip.

Countless "oppa" faces must've flashed through her mind. The one who buys meals, the movie date guy, the drive oppa...

"But... there isn't anyone like that!"

"None?"

"Yeah. They're all... casual. They like me 'cause I'm a magical girl, not for who I really am. They act like they'll put up with my whining, but I can tell they're annoyed...."

Her eyes darted around wildly, lost and wandering, before landing on my face with a soft thud. Then she slowly rose from her seat.

She circled the table, approaching my side.

Click, clack.

Her high heels shattered the quiet of the small meeting room. The closer she got, the thicker her sweet perfume grew.

She perched her hip lightly on my chair's armrest and leaned in.

"Counselor."

"Yes."

"Are... you on that candidate list by any chance?"

Her eyes curved seductively.

Hard to believe this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the same woman who'd treated me like a con artist moments ago. Her voice dripped honey now.

I smirked inwardly.

No surprise there.

Kim Na-young was in full frenzy mode right now. Relationship addict state, and with only me as the guy around, who else would she latch onto?

"Hmm. I'm just the counselor, though."

"Aw, that's even better, isn't it? You're a counselor."

She poked my shoulder with her index finger.

"You know my condition, you know the cure. And..."

She brought her lips close to my ear.

"Most importantly, you're the only man who knows all my secrets. I don't wanna tell anyone else."

"True enough."

"Right? So, be that 'one' for me."

Once real therapy kicked in, she'd eye every guy in sight, but for now, it was cute enough.

"Then cut them off now."

"Huh? R-right now?"

"Yes. Do it in front of me. That's step one."

Kim Na-young swallowed dryly.

"O-okay."

Her trembling fingers unlocked her phone.

"Who... should I start with?"

"All of them."

"A-all of them...?"

"Exclude family and essential work contacts. Block every guy tied to personal feelings. All of them."

I crossed my arms, watching her.

She opened the messenger app. Unread messages glowed red: 99+.

"Haa...."

She sighed shortly, then long-pressed the top chat.

"This oppa... bought me a bag last time...."

"No lingering. Once therapy's done, you can reconnect normally."

"Yeah...?"

Tap.

Kim Na-young squeezed her eyes shut and hit confirm.

"Good. Next."

"This one's got a nice car...."

"Block."

"Okaay...."

I methodically dismantled Kim Na-young's beaver dam.

For the therapy period, her eyes on me alone.

Treatment Day 1.

5:30 a.m. Still dim before dawn. I yawned hugely in the driver's seat of the beat-up rented Starex.

"Yawwn...."

Kim Na-young was out cold in the passenger seat.

"Counselor... wake me when we get there...."

"Sure, sleep."

The reason I was driving? I'd decided to play supporter for her in the meantime. Makes sense—after axing over fifty guys overnight, someone had to cover her gigs.

Without basic care like this, her desire graph wouldn't budge.

But what's the difference from a real supporter gig?

I glanced at the back seat via the rearview.

Magic wand, spare batteries (mana stones), mystery artifacts, change of clothes, instant ramen boxes. Far from glamorous magical girl vibes—more like a fugitive peddler's haul.

Vrooom—

The van bumped onto the unpaved road.

"Mm... we there?"

Kim Na-young rubbed her eyes sleepily. Minus the magical girl outfit, crusties in her eyes and yawning, she was the picture of a neighborhood bum sis.

"Yeah. Sector 4 Sewage Plant."

"Ugh, the smell...."

She pinched her nose, grimacing.

"What's on the docket today?"

"Slime cluster extermination. City hall contract, 20,000 won each. Total thirty."

"600,000 won... pay's shit."

A magical girl's life was flashy but grim, even financially. They rack up 2-3 mil a month that others envy, but costs eat it up fast.

And Kim Na-young? Freelance D-grader at that... Demand exists like day labor, but only the crap jobs no one wants.

"Let's go. Finish quick and grab some seolleongtang."

"No romance in you, counselor. Seolleongtang with a magical girl? Pasta or brunch at least."

"You'll change your tune after work."

"Ugh... Hey, counselor."

She shrugged off her windbreaker.

"Aren't you treating this magical girl too casually?"

"Huh?"

Kim Na-young pouted, tossing her padding aside.

"Transform!"

Her hair cascaded loose, shifting colors. Black brightened to long blonde waves, light wrapping her body, reshaping her clothes.

Pink dress. Pink ribbons. A cute little magic wand settled in her palm.

"Right now, I'm not Kim Na-young—"

She twirled, skirt flaring.

"I'm Magical Girl Lucy Twinkle!"

A woman pushing thirty acting like this in that outfit...

Pathetic.

"Ahem. Got it. Let's go, Lucy."

"D-don't be so half-assed! React properly, it's embarrassing!"

Even so, no spark for a late-20s magical girl...

After barely soothing her, I grabbed mana stone tongs and a bucket, trailing behind.

Splash, splash.

The plant was damp, dark. Stink everywhere, but she strode ahead like it was nothing.

"There."

She pointed to the corner. Green jelly blobs clung to pipes, jiggling.

Sewer slimes.

Hazard F-rank. Low aggression, but breed fast, corrode pipes.

"Magic Missile."

Whoosh, splat!

Kim Na-young chanted flatly. Baseball-sized light shot from her wand, bursting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a slime.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

"Three, four, five...."

She swung methodically. No grace, no heroic cries. Just a seasoned butcher carving meat—precise, swift.

"Counselor, grab the stones."

"On it."

I tonged bean-sized mana stones from burst slimes into the bucket.

Sticky goo everywhere—gross.

"Fuck, it splashed."

She brushed her skirt, annoyed.

Splat! Splat!

The grind continued. I followed silently, picking stones, logging on my tablet.

"Aaah, boring."

Kim Na-young yawned, pulling her phone. Habitually opened messenger—screen dead quiet. Thanks to my purge yesterday.

"......"

Her eyes trembled at the empty chats.

Anxiety. Withdrawal symptoms.

I played dumb, tossing it out.

"Lucy, eyes forward instead of phone. Another one's spawning."

"Ah... right."

She jammed it in her pocket hastily. Face noticeably gloomier.

"Counselor."

"Yeah."

"No one's messaging. For real."

"Obviously. You blocked them all."

"Still, thought at least one would hit me up from another number."

A magical girl who blocks first? No guy's got the balls to chase.

"Proof those ties were shallow."

"Oof, don't hit with facts. Hurts."

"Part of therapy. Get used to it."

"Tch, who says?"

Still mild for withdrawal. I noted her reactions, tapping the tablet.

How long could she hold out?