As Heath swung open the restroom door, he was immediately met with Devin's menacing, scowling face.

"I've got a nose for this stuff," Devin sniffed as if he could literally smell guilt. "You didn't actually use the restroom, didn't get yourself off, didn't even drop your trousers. What were you doing hiding in there for five minutes? Pure laziness, right?"

Without giving Heath a chance to explain, Devin yanked him out toward the main hall.

"Ah..." Heath stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet, but somehow managed to end up beside the bar's telephone.

The device was another product of Sando Corporation—a mechanical model, black in color. The handset rested on the bar, a relic from a time before Heath's life was ruled by a smartphone, the novelty of its retro design not lost on him.

"Hello?" Settling into a bar stool and leaning comfortably against the counter, Heath picked up the receiver. "Commander Lorna?"

"It's me." Lorna's brisk voice crackled through the line, sounding more invigorated than the night before, as if a good night's sleep had worked wonders. "Your Mirror Box therapy worked miracles!"

"Glad to hear it." Heath grabbed his now personal thermos, sipping the warm, sweet goji berry water.

For now, he'd set his own issues aside and focus on the conversation with the caller.

The izakaya buzzed with activity, four or five patrons scattered about, while Devin manned the bar, serving drinks and dishes personally.

You stay busy, Devin. Heath resolved to draw out this call as long as possible—this wasn't slacking off.

"My right hand's much better today; the breakdown has halted and it's looking up," Lorna cheerily reported. "But our mercenary group just took on a new job, and there might be a fight in a couple of days. I need to prepare, preferably repair some of the damaged programs and lost data."

She sounded hopeful. "Do you know if Old Witch Akin has any quick fixes for this?"

"Um..." Heath considered his response carefully.

Programs, data... Lorna's peculiar way of speaking was one of the reasons she was nicknamed 'Crazy Woman'. Such odd speech could indeed be a symptom of a psychological disorder, not unlike his own current condition...

"Is this about your mental state?" he murmured more to himself than to her.

"Obviously." Lorna's patience clearly wore thin. "I'm on the verge of a personality collapse. Just looking to boost my integrity."

Heath flinched at her tone—rookie mistake. A psychologist needs to maintain an authoritative image to foster trust in their patients.

So he couldn't show weakness, nor could he appear ignorant by asking about everything. Instead, he needed to gather information through observation and dialogue.

The guiding question he'd used was fine for a psychologist, but as a male escort, he couldn't talk like that.

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Lorna's suspicion was palpable. "Haven't Devin and the others taught you yet?"

Heath took a silent, sharp breath. That was the ultimate question for both a psychologist and a male escort!

"Commander Lorna." He first adopted a calm, light chuckle to help the caller relax. "I know more than enough."

Personality integrity?

He needed to sort this out. Her life was disrupted by the loss of her right hand, the forced attachment of a Kirin arm, phantom limb pain... Her mental state was poor, likely with a high depression index, even affecting her personality.

A psychiatrist would prescribe medication, but as a psychologist... well, a male escort's job was to help her build a healthy mindset.

As for personality recovery, it mainly relied on self-dialogue, self-reconciliation.

The tricky part was that Lorna's past was hard to reconcile with.

But if she remained stuck in the past, unable to even envision a future, then the therapeutic strategy needed adjusting.

"If a person had no past, they wouldn't be whole."

Heath moderated his voice to the most tender tone he could manage. "Even if it's all pain, perhaps that pain has forged who you are now. If you want to find your true self, you must fully accept yourself."

Silence fell on the other end of the line for a long moment before Lorna finally spoke:

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"You really don't know who I am, huh? Devin and Kumi didn't tell you, I guess."

Uh? Heath was briefly taken aback. Who exactly was she?

He quickly covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Devin, "Is Commander Lorna famous?"

Devin, who had just served drinks to a few tattoo-faced patrons, glanced at him and snorted:

"Lorna the commander isn't famous; Lorna-Lud is famous, but that was over a decade ago when she was just a little girl. Who remembers her now?"

Heath pondered this, adding it to what she'd said about her "worthless parents getting beheaded."

"Is it because her parents treated her badly?" he inquired softly, envisioning headlines like "Parents Who Abused Daughter Sentenced to Death," a tragic past best left unvisited...

"Something like that." Devin's expression darkened slightly. "Her parents... they ruined her life."

Heath scratched his head. If even Devin seemed moved recalling it, the story must be heart-wrenching.

He gently assured Lorna on the phone:

"I bring it up because I hope you'll reflect. Life is cruel, and yours has been crueler than most, but only when you recognize its significance can you better face the future."

"Enough, enough..." Lorna cut him off impatiently. "If you don't know any solutions, let's leave it at that."

With a click, the line went dead, leaving Heath motionless, the dial tone echoing in his ear. Tough nut to crack.

If he could, he'd have Lorna take a House-Tree-Person test to get a clearer picture of her personality state.

House-Tree-Person had nothing to do with Zhou Shuren—a pen name of the writer Lu Xun.

It's a projective psychological test where participants draw a house, a tree, and a person on a blank sheet to project their psychological state from the subconscious. In particular, the trunk of the tree could reflect the integrity of the personality.

Wait... maybe he should take the House-Tree-Person test himself?

But definitely not now. The izakaya was bustling, and he was busy.

"Right, one must be open-minded." So Heath continued holding the receiver, sweetly talking to no one: "Eat well, sleep well, go out for a stroll and have fun when you feel like it, don't overthink, just enjoy the scenery."

"You think I'm deaf? My ears are sharp, too."

Devin's chill voice reached him, his sensory acuity clearly not matching his weight. "Get back to work!"

"Ah, Devin's calling me. We'll talk later, commander, take care, goodbye."

Heath finally replaced the receiver and rose gracefully to approach a group of young women who occasionally cast glances his way.

"Ladies, how may I assist you?"

...

A whole day passed, and Heath was nearly spent.

He had thought being a male escort meant leisurely days, but it turned out he was the workhorse.

From greeting clients to wiping down the bar and washing dishes, he was kept busy.

If he had to look on the bright side, at least Devin was teaching him about alcohol culture—recognizing wines, mixing drinks. He now knew that Fuyatani Sake brewed in the northern agricultural district was renowned.

He had attended to wave after wave of customers, and the progress bar on the console steadily increased with male escort value.

But after a full day, it had only reached 5% on Tier 2.

Through his research, he'd confirmed several mechanisms of the console. First, different patrons contributed varying amounts of male escort value.

Even a crowd like Old Dog Jackson's didn't bring as much value as Lorna alone.

Before serving them, the progress bar had already appeared at 86%.

If these were ordinary foes, then Lorna was an elite monster.

Second, once the progress bar hit Tier 2, the speed of program progression plummeted.

It seemed to climb swiftly; he needed to serve more elite clients with psychological issues like Lorna...

However, the morning call had not increased the male escort value, which meant Lorna wasn't satisfied.

If this wasn't an adventure but his own madness, it was his subconscious that believed Lorna wasn't satisfied.

That morning, while encouraging Lorna, Heath also reminded himself. The sub-personality might be fierce and dangerous, but it had just separated, representing his female side. There was still a chance for integration and acceptance. He needed to face it positively.

So he decided to increase his male escort value, obtain an implicit memory, create a data packet to feed it, and see what happens.

...

Now it was dusk, the sky painted with the colors of twilight, the faulty neon signs starting to flicker.

"Heath, do you think I'm just dreaming of stardom?"

In the livelier izakaya, Heath sat by a small dining table, attending to an aspiring but unsuccessful young actress.

Miss Sakai Hanazu, in her twenties, was one of the many in the city chasing the dazzling dream of Liuguang. She frequented "The Studio District," home to various film and television sets, and sometimes returned to the Kabukicho district.

She was a local street kid from Kabukicho, and like her, those from the city were known as "Dirt Dogs."

She had ventured into The Studio District for six or seven years, still only landing bit parts.

Her most significant role to date had three lines: "Ah," "Oh my God," and "Don't!" She played a character in a third-rate horror film who was just introduced only to have her skull smashed by a metal cattle prod wielded by a psychopathic killer.

"Right?" Sakai Hanazu sipped her sake, lamenting, "Now everyone here calls me 'Sakai Three-Liner.'"

Trained professionally, Heath knew when not to laugh, maintaining a calm demeanor as he responded:

"Who doesn't dream of being a star? I had one just last night. But you should have something unique about you. Everyone is one of a kind, Miss Sakai, and so are you."

"Really?" Sakai Hanazu murmured, touching her face, still lacking confidence.

"Of course." Heath nodded.

With her wide eyes, high nose, and small mouth, her face was already pretty but unremarkable, the kind you'd forget in an instant.

Even without her saying, he felt her face was the result of cosmetic surgery—a cookie-cutter influencer face assembled by a cheap street-side clinic without much design, just mashing together faces of popular actresses and supermodels from the past few years.

Her stage name also felt cobbled together.

"Uniqueness will define who you are." He emphasized again.

"Yeah, you're right." Sakai Hanazu brightened up. "I should get surgery again, make some unique changes!"

"Cough, cough..." Heath nearly choked on his goji berry water. I, I didn't say that...

But his male escort value was increasing, the progress bar reaching 7% on Tier 2—not a bad harvest.

Suddenly, a sudden scream burst from the direction of The Lustrous Club, drawing the patrons' attention to the small passageway.

Heath's heart skipped a beat. What was happening? Surely not an accident involving Ayane?

Listening more closely, it was clearly a man's rough voice, filled with anguish and fear, crying out, "Ayane Mama, I can't take it anymore! I was wrong, I'm the bastard, I can't take it, please forgive me..."

"What's..." Heath's heart lurched even more. "Going on?"