The Veela Doctor

Blood Moon Country, Kaimeng University Affiliated Hospital. In the psychiatric waiting area, Teresa was waiting anxiously for her number to be called. Before going in, she checked once again whether the peripherals in the chip at the nape of her neck were functioning properly: sorcery trace module, audio recording module, personality drift module, cranial nerve inspection module... These modules could all determine whether her soul, brain, or mind was being invasively deconstructed by a miracle. But she wasn't doing this to prevent danger; she wanted to record evidence of crime to report it. Yes, Teresa didn't have any mental illness, nor was she here for a consultation. She had come to unmask a crooked doctor. In the Blood Moon Country, psychotherapists were indispensable and prominent figures in society. But because patients had to open their minds to a psychotherapist, the danger involved was even greater than lying on an operating table waiting to be cut open—so long as a psychotherapist harbored the slightest malice, they could enslave the patient and take whatever they pleased. "Mind control" was an explicitly defined crime in the criminal code of the Blood Moon Country. Psychotherapists were a high-incidence group for it, alongside corporate executives, university professors, politicians, and the like. This was because the crime targeted the mental enslavement of the "resourceless" by the "resourced"—the latter wielded "power to allocate resources," whereas psychotherapists wielded "knowledge resources." Every year, at least a dozen psychotherapists were arrested for crossing forbidden boundaries. In recent years, the most famous mind control criminal had been Financier, the former mayor of Kaimeng City. After he died following the prison break incident, it was revealed that he had used mind control to force subordinates into various acts of embezzlement and crime. Next was Igola the Swindler, who had once been illustrious; nearly thirty prominent members of society had been ruined financially because of him, and there were even rumors that a Moon Shadow clan Bloodmad Hunter had harbored him. To this day, he remained on the run. Consequently, professional regulations for psychotherapists were exceptionally strict, the harshest of which was the "sorcery spirit prescription." If a psychotherapist wanted to use a sorcery spirit miracle on a patient, it had to undergo layers of approvals and be recorded on file. Furthermore, a medical recorder had to be turned on throughout the entire session for surveillance. Any unreported sorcery spirit miracle constituted a severe criminal offense. Teresa's visit this time was precisely to expose this crooked doctor for illegally using miracles during therapy. Her university friend Norma had shown clear symptoms of mind control after receiving treatment from this crooked doctor: not only did she stop eating her favorite Snow White candy, but she also stopped going to the mud cafe three times a week, and had even begun pondering whether the Research Institute admission exam was unsuitable for her. This was utterly insane—entering the Research Institute to become a member of the Blood Saint clan was every student's ultimate dream. Who wouldn't want to become a researcher? Yet Norma had said she could no longer endure walking on eggshells in social interactions and had no interest in academics. She wished to branch into the body arts and gun arts factions, and might become a Bloodmad Hunter in the future. This made Teresa all the more certain that Norma had been mind-controlled—a human woman weighing less than a hundred jin, wanting to go into body arts and gun arts? Wanting to become a Bloodmad Hunter? Was she trying to arouse the criminals' animal desires? It wasn't like mud cafes didn't offer roleplay services; why had she gotten so obsessed? From Norma, Teresa discovered that her transformation was due to finding a new psychotherapist. A little investigation revealed that she was an intern who had recently risen to fame at the affiliated hospital, and was also their senior alumna from university. However, when Teresa looked deeper, she was immediately shocked by this crooked doctor's influence—a secret fan club for the doctor had actually been founded at the university, and its members were all former patients who had received treatment from her! This was outright mind control! One step further and it would become a cult, identical to the methods of the cult leader who was apprehended over half a year ago! To break her friend's mind control, and even more to eradicate such an outlaw, Teresa unflinchingly stepped into the tiger's den, determined to expose the crooked doctor's sinister true face! "Number thirty-one, Teresa Hoyle, Consultation Room 2." Teresa took a deep breath and pushed the door open to enter. Unlike the psychotherapy rooms she had seen before, aside from the standard desk and heated aesthetician bed, it was surprisingly cozy inside. A cactus sat on the desk, and in the corners were beanbag chairs, ergonomic chairs, rocking chairs, a swing, and even an iron-like sword throne that looked straight out of a movie. Virtually everything in the world meant for sitting or lying on was present. Behind the desk, a Veela was typing with one hand while eating fruit cake with the other, not even looking at Teresa. She casually said, "Take a seat anywhere." *Refusing to look me in the eye, intentionally undermining my momentum—she's already started mind-controlling me the moment I walked in...* Teresa chose the swing, sat down, and thought to herself. "Does it feel familiar? I had this swing copied from the one at the rearing institute. I always swing on it for a few minutes before clocking out." The Veela doctor glanced at her and smiled. "Have you gone back to see Aunt Belial lately? Does she still take leave every Friday to go to the casino?" "Huh?" "I came out of the Hoyle Rearing Institute too," the Veela giggled. "I knew as soon as I saw your surname." Only then did Teresa realize—she and this crooked doctor shared the same surname! "I..." Teresa stammered, "I haven't gone back recently... I don't really like Director Belen." "Understandable. Aside from those who love to tattle, who would like that old witch?" The Veela pursed her lips, raised both arms in a deep stretch, and let out a cat-like whimper. "I'm so happy to actually run into a little sister from the rearing institute... Wait, no, this is a hospital, so maybe it's not something to be happy about?" Teresa glanced at the striking curves beneath the Veela's white coat and instantly lowered her head, blushing furiously, her heart pounding. Even a woman couldn't resist it—how did she grow like that? Plastic surgery and body contouring? But no beauty salon ever offered such a flawless template! It had to be a miracle! Using a miracle to enhance her physical allure—so cunning, so very Veela... Come to think of it, I've never been to a tea cafe; maybe in a few days I should go try a Veela? "Want some cake?" The Veela suddenly appeared in front of her, holding out a triangular slice of fruit cake. She said seriously, "This is from Lydia Cake Workshop! The cream is dairy cream, not vegetable cream, and the fruit slices are super sweet and fresh with rich texture. Its only flaw is that it makes you gain weight easily, so you're only allowed one slice!" The cake's fragrance + the Veela's chattering + being allowed only one slice—Teresa dazedly ate it, only coming to her senses halfway through. *Wait, what if the cake has a brainwashing potion hidden in it? This Veela is so crafty, casting spells indirectly through food?* "Because the last patient's birthday was today, I hurried and ordered cake to celebrate. I usually don't eat in the consultation room, but now that you've eaten some too, we're accomplices in crime. You can't report me, okay?" The Veela sat on the adjacent swing, her black-stockinged legs pressed close together, giggling. "Birthday?" Teresa blinked. "It's the day each person was born. You eat cake to celebrate, and if possible, put candles on the cake equal to your age. After blowing them out, you close your eyes to make a wish, while everyone else sings 'Happy Birthday to You' beside you..." "And then?" Teresa felt she was about to seize proof of the Veela's crime. "After completing this ritual, what happens next?" "Next, you and your friends eat the cake." The Veela spread her hands. "Enjoying the delicious cake together." "Ah? Then what is the significance of this ritual?" "The significance of this ritual is to let everyone know they are important, and that the day of their birth is a festival worth celebrating." The Veela tilted her head. "A lot of problems in modern people actually stem from not being selfish enough." Teresa almost doubted her own ears. "Not being selfish enough?" Isn't everyone in the Blood Moon Country an exquisite egoist nowadays? If even this wasn't selfish enough, how selfish did one have to be? Blame the country for not assigning me a personal butler? "Many people nowadays claim to be selfish, but it's nothing more than following the herd," the Veela said. "Whichever major makes money, they study that major; whatever movie is popular, they watch that movie; whatever tattoo is in fashion, they get that tattoo... Money, appearance, personality, ranking—in the end, all of it is to gain validation from others, not because of what they truly like." Teresa couldn't help shaking her head. "But nowadays, if you study the wrong major and enter the wrong industry, not only do you have no chance of entering the Research Institute, your income won't even match a part-time job at a tea cafe. Food, clothing, housing, transport—which of them doesn't cost money? Isn't it only natural to choose a more promising path to make money? I barely scraped past the minimum cutoff to get into Kaimeng Comprehensive University. Even though I like earth arts better, when majors were being assigned, I kept praying 'not earth arts, please not earth arts.' It's just that current national development is focused on exploiting resources in remote regions; it's grueling and exhausting, and earth arts isn't as sought after as it was decades ago." "So which major did you end up in?" the Veela asked. "Earth arts," Teresa said gloomily. "That's why I must test into the Research Institute and become a member of the Blood Saint clan. Otherwise, I'll either have to follow an engineering team into the mountains for resource exploitation, or get plastic surgery and work at a tea cafe." "Why not take up an ordinary occupation? It might not pay as much, but it won't be nearly as exhausting." "Because I need seven packets of moon sugar a day, go to the mud cafe four times a week, plus clothes and everything else. A low-paying job couldn't possibly support my hobbies." "Those aren't hobbies; those are just desires," the Veela said with a gentle smile. "I'm not criticizing you. Desires are the easiest way to dissolve our fatigue; the physiology of all sapient life works that way. You're already exhausted day in and day out. When emptiness sets in, if you don't fill it with intense sensations, you won't be able to bear it. Even the warmth of a stranger is better than a cold quilt." Teresa froze. Her instinct was to argue back, but the Veela's eyes were clear and gentle, melting away every trace of hostility rising within her. "True selfishness means not needing anyone else's approval for anything you do—only doing what you love, finding your comfort zone, and staying in it," the Veela said. "Never surrender the right to judge your worth to others." Teresa shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip. "But..." "But having others look down on you makes you feel uncomfortable, and having no money means you can't buy what you want. I understand." The Veela gently wiped away the cream from the corner of Teresa's mouth. "Our education is just like that: discrimination is forbidden, yet discrimination is everywhere. Competition isn't celebrated, yet competition is everywhere. The losers are trampled into the dust, the victors cannot stop for even a second, the strong aren't permitted to show fear, and the weak aren't permitted to cry..." "Children are the most selfish: they cry when they're hungry, cry when they're in pain, cry when they're lonely, cry when things are loud. In truth, none of us ever really became adults; we just couldn't keep being children." "But at least here, you can be a child for a little while." The Veela swung hard on the swing and smiled. "Teresa, would you like another slice of cake?" Before she knew it, Teresa's eyes had grown moist. She nodded heavily and couldn't help trying to remember the date of her birth.