Time passed, and the next morning arrived.

Perhaps because the previous examination had shown severe depression, the results of the second test came out in less than 24 hours, and I was immediately scheduled for counseling.

Unlike last time, I headed to the counseling room an hour earlier and went through about two hours of consultation.

At the end of that session, the doctor's diagnosis was this:

"Hmm... It appears to be acute stress disorder."

"Acute stress disorder?"

"Yes. At first I suspected bipolar disorder due to the sudden changes, but bipolar disorder isn't something that can be easily diagnosed in such a short period. Considering your special circumstances, I've concluded it's depression caused by acute stress disorder rather than bipolar disorder."

I see...

I nodded as if I understood, but I only comprehended about half of it.

Acute stress disorder comes from experiencing a lot of stress, and bipolar disorder... well, I'm not sure about that one.

As I blinked while listening, the Doctor looked at me and explained again slowly.

Acute stress disorder is an anxiety disorder that occurs after experiencing trauma or shocking events, which was similar to what I had thought.

I've certainly had too many shocking events recently.

Just the way my body has changed is stressful enough, and then being told that ten years have passed, and what happened to Grandmother...

As I was thinking about it, I shuddered at the memory I didn't want to recall.

"Then what is bipolar disorder?"

"It's one of the emotional disorders also known as manic depression. It's a condition where you feel extremely good, then suddenly become extremely depressed."

Ah, now I understand.

I know about manic depression. I remember seeing it in a documentary yesterday.

What was it called... something like "The Invisible Strings That Guide Mind and Body"—that was probably the title.

It was a helpful program that made my mind alert after being relaxed by nature documentaries.

"As I mentioned earlier, bipolar episodes—or rather, the cycle between good and bad moods—need to be observed over time, so it's not something that can be easily diagnosed."

"So I don't have bipolar disorder, right?"

"We'll need to monitor your condition, but that's correct for now."

I nodded at the Doctor's words and asked with a lighter heart:

"Then how can I recover from this stress disorder?"

"Since it's caused by sudden shock, there's no specific treatment method. Talking with someone you can rely on, light physical contact like hugs for psychological stability, going out for light walks or drives to get positive external stimulation, eating food you enjoy or delicious meals, getting quality sleep, and avoiding stress as much as possible—those would be my recommendations."

In simple terms, hang out with friends, eat well, relieve yourself properly, and sleep well.

Things I'm good at.

"Do I need to take medication?"

"I could prescribe something, but in your case, since you have friends and family you can lean on, and you're not showing symptoms of depression, I think it would be better to alleviate your condition through the methods I mentioned rather than medication."

This time I truly understood and nodded.

After checking the test results one last time and nodding, the Doctor looked at me and asked:

"I heard you're starting rehabilitation therapy today, is that right?"

"Ah, yes."

"Focusing on something will help a lot with your treatment. I hope you do well."

"Yes."

As I nodded and smiled, the Doctor bowed slightly in return.

"Thank you for your time during this long consultation."

"Thank you for your work as well."

Instead of replying, the Doctor nodded and smiled.

After finishing the consultation, I pressed the elevator button as usual, and soon the doors opened.

Inside the elevator was the little kid I saw yesterday.

I was a bit surprised to meet two days in a row, but I didn't mind, so I greeted first.

"Hello."

"Oh my, we meet again."

"Ah! It's the cool Noona! Hello!"

I was quite pleased that both the child and his mother greeted me with smiles.

As I was about to press a button, I blinked when I saw that the 7th floor was already selected.

"You're going to the 7th floor, right? I pressed it for you since your hands seemed uncomfortable. Was that presumptuous of me?"

"What? No, not at all. It wasn't presumptuous at all."

"Hehe, I'm glad."

The child's mother nodded with an elegant smile at my waving hands.

We seem to meet around the same time, just like yesterday.

"You must be here for tests at this hour."

"Hehe, no. It's not for tests. My child is so energetic that he can't sit still unless we go for a walk. So we always come out for a walk around this time."

"Oh... a walk..."

The mention of walks reminded me of the Doctor's advice about going for walks or drives.

"Then you must go for walks often."

"Yes, since my child is so full of energy. Hehe."

"Then you must know good walking paths."

"Oh my... I've been there so often, how could I not know?"

"Ah, could you recommend some nice walking paths?"

"That's no trouble at all. There's a path behind the hospital. The landscaping is really well done, and there are benches here and there to rest. It's a single path, so you won't get lost."

"Oh..."

"And besides that path..."

Just as we were about to continue our conversation, the elevator stopped with a ding.

"Oh my, we've arrived already. The cherry blossom path in front of the hospital is also beautiful, so make sure to visit."

"Mom, let's go quickly! It's time for Mecha Hero!"

"Alright, alright. I got it. Say goodbye to the Noona first."

"Ah, bye Noona~!"

The child, who had been stomping his feet impatiently, quickly waved his hand and dashed out of the elevator. I was about to wave back but lowered my hand.

All kids are like that at that age. I leaned against the elevator wall with a smirk.

"A single path behind the hospital..."

I should remember that.

Since it wasn't difficult to remember, I just kept it in mind and got off at the 7th floor when I arrived.

Back in my room, I took off my shoes as usual, climbed onto the bed, and turned on the TV.

After that, I watched TV, ate lunch, and started the rehabilitation therapy we had discussed yesterday.

The rehabilitation therapy wasn't anything special.

I thought they might attach some strange machine to my hands, but they just gave me huge crayons that fit my hand size.

Really. Where do they even find these things?

As I blinked at the crayons, a Nurse came and said:

"You'll practice controlling your strength by writing and drawing with these, and we'll gradually reduce the size as you get used to it. Can you do that?"

"Ah, yes."

"Good. The beginning is difficult, but it gets easier with practice. Let's start one by one, shall we?"

Following the Nurse's kind guidance, I nodded and started writing with the crayons.

At first, it felt awkward, like children's drawing play, but I got used to it as time passed.

No, I even started to find it a bit fun.

Later, I began writing various things without the Nurse's instructions.

...I just wish the Nurse hadn't looked at me like I was an adorable child.

Anyway, the crayons were softer than I expected, so they either got fingernail marks or shaved off when I didn't control my strength properly.

But on the other hand, because they were crayons, they only got slightly deformed or shaved a bit when pressed by my nails.

If they had been pencils, pens, or colored pencils, they would have broken long ago.

'There's a reason they specifically use crayons.'

With that thought, I focused hard on the rehabilitation therapy.

I was so engrossed in the hour-long therapy that when the Nurse was about to leave, I asked her to leave the crayons and sketchbook.

It's not that I suddenly rediscovered my inner child and enjoyed drawing.

I was satisfied that I could do something with these hands besides destroying things, that they could be used for purposes other than breaking.

I filled one page of the sketchbook with letters, tried hard to draw a tree but ended up with something that looked like broccoli, and drew people that looked like they were drawn by a 7-year-old child. What should I draw next? What should I write next? I kept drawing with such thoughts.

Ah, maybe I'll try drawing that.

I grabbed a crayon, recalling an ancient creature documentary that suddenly came to mind.

'This... might turn out better than anything I've drawn so far.'

Either thanks to all the practice or because it was an easy animal to draw, it was turning out quite well.

While I was completely focused on drawing, I heard a sliding sound.

"I'm back."

"Shut your mouth, I'm creating a masterpiece here."

Now... two circles here, then another circle inside each of them. One triangle... a streamlined body with a tail...

"Done!"

"What are you doing?"

I turned my head at the voice from beside me and met Choi Hyun's eyes.

"What? When did you get here?"

"Just now. But what is that? A missile?"

"What are you talking about? It's a fish."

"No way. What kind of fish looks like that? No fins, and why is the mouth triangular?"

"These are the fins, see."

"What... no matter how I look at it, it just looks like an extremely long tadpole."

I burst into laughter at that ridiculous accusation.

What? A tadpole?

"Hah... this is why ignorant people just don't get it."

"I mean, what kind of fish in the world looks like that?"

"Sacabam..."

Ah, I bit my tongue.

After clicking my tongue and licking my lips, I frowned and continued:

"Shacabambaphiph, you idiot..."

"Sacabambaspis..."

Choi Hyun took out his phone, typed diligently, and then looked back and forth between my drawing and his phone with wide eyes.

After blinking for a while, he burst into laughter.

"You actually drew it perfectly."

"Hmph."

See? What did I tell you?

I giggled and tore out the drawing of the Sacabam... Sacabasbam... Scabam...

...Sacabambaspis and decorated my bedside with it.