Beastmen Are Crazy, So I Sell Them Therapy

Chapter 87: Chapter 85

The moment the music stopped I didn’t even wait for a proper ending, I quickly let go of his hands like they had personally offended me.

”Now we forget that happened.”

”Of course,” he said smoothly. ”I always honor my promises.”

I turned to leave only for my hand to get caught again.

”...”

I slowly looked at our hands intertwined then back at him.

”...Do you have anything more to say?” I asked, already losing patience.

For the first time since I met him, he looked... startled and confused.

”I—uhm—” he cleared his throat, composure cracking for a split second. ”Do you want to stay with our table for a while?”

”No. My friend is probably already waiting for me,” I said, attempting to pull my hand away.

He didn’t let go.

”Then I can go with you instead!”

”No.”

”But—”

”Can you please let go of my hand now?”

He blinked, clearly not used to being rejected this efficiently.

”...Maybe I can take you there?” he tried again.

He was still holding my hand, smiling, and clearly not getting the point.

I smiled sweetly. ”Oh look,” I said suddenly pointing behind him. ”Vivienne is coming our way!”

”Viv?” he turned around.

The moment his attention shifted, I yanked my hand free and bolted.

No grace.

No elegance.

Just pure survival instinct.

I ran through the crowd like my life depended on it, weaving past students, dodging conversations, and ignoring confused looks.

”Blanca—!”

I picked up my pace, heart racing, praying that he won’t chase me. I finally spotted Gawain sitting comfortably at one of the tables, already eating without me.

”...”

’This greedy man.’

I marched straight towards him and grabbed his arm. ”We need to leave. NOW.”

He blinked mid-bite, chewing slowly like he was processing not just the food, but my entire existence.

”...That fast?”

”Yes.”

”...Did you commit a crime?”

”Not yet.”

”...Should I be concerned?”

”Always.”

He stared at me for a second then nodded. ”...Alright. Let’s go.”

”Wait,” I said, suddenly grabbing my plate piled high with food.

He froze. ”My Lady...?”

”I’m hungry,” I said with complete seriousness. ”And I’m not leaving without tasting all these.”

He looked at the plate like he was calculating whether this was a food situation or a life decision.

Finally, he sighed—the kind of sigh that carried years of regret. ”Let me hold that for you, My Lady.”

I immediately handed it over.

”Should we fill another plate?” I asked hopefully, already scanning the tables like a hunter eyeing new prey.

”...Please stop, My Lady,” he said, voice firm, like he was talking to a child on the verge of making a terrible mistake. ”You probably can’t even eat all of this.”

”Fine.”

We started moving towards the exit again, blending into the crowd as I allowed myself one quick glance behind just to make sure no one’s chasing us.

Big Mistake.

Ravian was still standing where I left him, looking directly at me while smiling.

’...Why is he smiling?’

I immediately turned back around.

”Nope.”

”What?” Gawain asked.

”Nothing.”

”...That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

”It’s nothing I want to deal with.”

He frowned slightly but didn’t push.

Good because I had already reached my social interaction limit for the night.

”Faster,” I muttered, dragging Gawain with me.

”...I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” he sighed.

”You’re right.”

”...That’s new.”

”But the food was worth it.”

”...You’re unbelievable.”

”I know.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We ended up at a quiet gazebo, tucked away from the noise, fairy lights draped above us like tiny stars.

The pond in front of us reflected everything—lights, shadows, and my current life choices.

I groaned as I slipped off my sandals, flexing my feet like they had just survived a battlefield.

”It’s been a long time since I wore one of these,” I muttered as I glanced down and immediately regretted it.

My right heel was bleeding.

Gawain noticed it almost instantly. He crouched down in front of me without a word, already pulling out his handkerchief.

”You’re bleeding,” he said unnecessarily, gently wiping the spot.

”I noticed.”

”You kept walking anyway.”

”I was prioritizing survival.”

He didn’t argue with that. Instead, he carefully tied the handkerchief around my heel, his movements precise and gentle.

”Please wait here for a while, My Lady,” he said as he straightened up.

I frowned slightly. ”Where are you going?”

”I’ll find something to treat your wound,” he replied. ”So please don’t do anything.”

I sat up straighter. ”But I’m always behaved.”

He slowly looked at me. ”...Really?”

I nodded. ”I promise not to go anywhere.”

”...That doesn’t sound reassuring,” he muttered.

”It should be.”

”It’s not.”

”It is.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple like he was already regretting leaving me alone.

”I’ll be back quickly,” he said finally, pointing at me like I was a suspicious object. ”Stay. Here.”

”I will.”

”Don’t wander.”

”I won’t.”

”Don’t talk to strangers.”

”I already met them.”

”That’s exactly the problem.”

I waved him off. ”Just go.”

He hesitated for a second longer then left.

I watched him disappear down the path and the moment he was gone, silence settled.

I leaned back slightly against the cool wood of the gazebo, tilting my head up to watch the fairy lights glow softly above me.

”...Finally,” I muttered under my breath.

For the first time tonight, there was no noise, no tension, dragging me, threatening me, or blackmailing me into dancing.

It was just me and the quiet night.

I let my gaze wander.

The surroundings were peaceful—almost too peaceful—like a scene painted just to calm the mind.

The garden stretched softly around me, illuminated by the moonlight that shimmered faintly over the pond.

The air felt cool against my skin, crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, blending with the gentle sound of water lapping against the edge.

I exhaled slowly.

”I think this is the best time,” I murmured.

I stood up and stretched slightly, rolling my shoulders, cracking my neck as I stepped out barefoot, the grass feeling soft and cool.

”...I said I wouldn’t go anywhere,” I added thoughtfully. ”...But dancing doesn’t count.”

Ballet wasn’t something I learned for survival nor it was something forced into me.

It had always been mine. It was something I never shared, never showed, or never let anyone see.

So I let everything else go.

The noise.

The people.

The expectations.

I let my mind clear until there was nothing left but the rhythm of my own breathing and the quiet pulse of the night around me.

I began to move slowly, carefully recalling each step. At first, my movements were a bit clumsy and awkward but the more I let my body take over, the more natural it became.

Gradually, I was turning, spinning lightly across the grass.

Just when I thought I had finally achieved inner peace—quiet night, gentle breeze, emotionally stable for once—my brain decided it was the perfect time to reopen the archives of questionable childhood decisions.

Pieces of memory started knocking, then barging in, then outright kicking the door down like they paid rent in my head.

I exhaled slowly.

”...No,” I muttered, as if that would somehow stop it.

It did not and since I clearly cannot suffer alone, I looked at the sky.

’Yes, you. Whoever you are.’

The one watching my suffering right now.

Congratulations.

You’re coming with me.

Don’t look behind you, there’s no escape route as I already checked it.

If I have to relive this, then so do you.

[Yes, I am breaking the fourth wall. No, you can’t stop me. This is my coping mechanism.]

Anyway, back to my sweet nightmare of a childhood.

A beautiful time filled with love, warmth... and absolutely unhinged life-threatening experiences.

The moment I got cured from my strange illness, my family celebrated like I had just come back from the dead—which, to be fair, I practically did.

There were feasts, gifts, and enough attention to make anyone think I had finally earned a peaceful life.

And then they immediately handed me my real gift.

Training.

Not the ”learn how to defend yourself just in case” kind.

No, no.

I’m talking about intense, borderline military-level, ”if you don’t dodge this you might actually die” kind of training.

Apparently, surviving multiple near-death experience wasn’t enough for them. They wanted to make sure I could survive all future ones too.

Looking back, it really said a lot about our family dynamics.

I appreciated it. I really did. It was hard—brutal, even—but I knew it came from a place of concern.

Love, in my family, just happened to come with weapons, combat drills, and a very concerning number of near-death experiences.

But even that wasn’t enough for me. Somewhere along the way, I thought, ’you know what would make this even better?’

Poison.

Now, to be fair, no one told me to do that. That was entirely my idea. Which, in hindsight, explains a lot about me as a person.

Every time I got poisoned—whether by ”training accidents” or actual assassination attempts—I hated the aftermath more than the pain itself.

My parents and grandfather would hover over me, their expressions tight with worry, watching as I struggled to breathe like I had personally decided oxygen was optional that day.

Sometimes blood would come out of places it definitely shouldn’t—eyes, mouth, you name it.

’Very dramatic and very inconvenient by the way.’

There were even times where my heart just stopped beating.

’Which, honestly, felt a bit excessive.’

And every single time, they looked at me like I might disappear.

I hated that look. So I did what any rational person would do.

I started drinking every poison that could literally kill me little by little, building resistance like a completely sane and rational person.

At first, it was terrible.

Then slightly less terrible.

Then tolerable.

And eventually, I feel nothing anymore.

By the time my family realized the assassins’ methods had stopped working, I was already far ahead of them.

Which, I think, really tied the whole experience together nicely.

...In a completely normal way.

Honestly, looking back on it now, I probably should have been more concerned about my life choices.

I exhaled softly, shaking my head as the memory finally faded.

’Oh, you’re still here?

...Huh.’

I paused mid-step, one brow lifting slightly as if I could actually see you lingering somewhere beyond the edges of my very questionable life choices.

”Well,” I muttered under my breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips, ”thank you for sticking around.”

Not many would willingly sit through a childhood that sounded like a training manual for survival mixed with accidental self-destruction.

Honestly, if I were you, I might’ve left the moment poison became a casual habit.

But since you’re still here...

Congratulations.

You’ve earned front-row seats to something significantly less traumatic.

”I’ll try not to remember my past next time,” I added thoughtfully, though there was a small pause after that, like even I didn’t quite believe myself. ”...No promises though.”