Dr. Mercer was a young psychologist. He had seen all kinds of unique people in his 5 years of practice.
Of course, he expected that today would be the same as usual.
He sat behind his neatly organized desk, lit by a warm yellow light.
When the patient stepped into the room, he offered his most professional smile.
The patient today was a seemingly unremarkable young man who wore a simple black t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
"Please sit comfortably," he said, gesturing towards a red armchair, which was purposely placed to make the patient feel at home. "Since it's our first session, why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
"My name is..." the young man paused for a short moment, "Najin."
'Why did he take so long to say his own name? And what's with this dull expression? Treating this patient is probably going to be troublesome.'
This was something he could tell at a glance thanks to his years of experience as a clinical psychologist.
Dr. Mercer sighed inwardly, but kept a smiling face.
"Najin, it's a nice name. What brings you here today?"
A standard opener. He planned to let the patient set the pace.
"My parents have died," Najin said expressionlessly, the same way one states the time.
The room was quiet for a moment.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said in a gentle tone. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"Both sets."
"...I'm sorry?"
"My original parents died before I came to this world." Najin's gaze drifted briefly to the window. "This body's parents died three months ago."
As Najin turned back, facing Dr. Mercer, he noticed that he had begun scribbling something down on his notepad.
Dr. Mercer was not, in fact, writing anything in particular.
He was actually drawing random shapes to keep his hand moving.
Four concentric rectangles. A circle. An isosceles triangle.
The act of writing was an excuse to take some time thinking about what Najin had just said.
'This guy is totally out of his mind.
This body's parents, he says, as if you possessed someone else.
And the expression on his face. There is a man across from me who has just told me that four parents are dead, and I cannot find a single thing on his face to confirm that he is aware of what he has said.
Also, what the fuck does
And I, Nathaniel Mercer, 35 years old, happily single by choice, have to deal with such a psychopath today and maybe even more times.
Yeah, I'm fucking screwed.'
Dr. Mercer glanced up briefly, meeting Najin's gaze, expressionless as always.
'Damn, I have dealt with countless cases before. But right now, I don't even know what to say.'
It was not only the absurd bullshit coming out of Najin's mouth, but also the gloomy air around him, as if haunted by countless evil spirits.
After a moment of deliberation, he finally spoke again.
"Could you please elaborate on what you mean by
"I transmigrated," he said.
'Here we go.'
Dr. Mercer mentally prepared to what other absurdity he might hear in a few seconds.
"I died in my original world due to reasons I'd prefer to keep to myself, and after that, I woke up in my favorite webnovel in the body of an extra with the same name and body. I remember him appearing briefly (7 words to be precise) in chapter 14, being a not-even-third-rate antagonist who got beaten up by the protagonist of the story."
By now, Dr Mercer had made a decision. The only way to converse with a psychopath who only spoke nonsense with a straight face was to answer in kind.
Yes, Dr Mercer had fully adapted to Najin like an animal that adapts to a hostile environment, not willingly, but because of the natural course of events.
"What's this webnovel called?"
A moment of silence followed.
Only a small gust of wind coming from outside, accompanied by the rustling of leaves past the window, could be heard.
Now, you might be wondering, haven't there been too many of such moments of silence?
To answer simply, yes.
Yes, there had been.
In fact, if one were to go back and count, the session so far had contained more moments of silence than actual conversation, which was, by any clinical metric, a deeply unusual ratio for a therapy session.
Dr. Mercer had, by his own rough estimate, experienced more of these silences in the last forty minutes than in the entirety of his previous five years of practice combined.
But such was the nature of the arkwadness of the gloomy fellow.
"The name is..."
'Wait, is he blushing?'
Dr. Mercer noticed that Najin's face had flushed red slightly, probably in embarrassment.
'So this guy is indeed a human after all.'
Dr. Mercer almost shed a tear.
But he didn't.
Because he was a professional.
"The Infinite Regressor Has Died 999 Times but Failed to Save the World Every Single Time and Now Just Wants Everyone to Please Leave Him Alone"
Dr Mercer: 'Is this shit for real?'