Your Therapist Says He's the One Who Needs Treatment

At nine p.m., rain beats against the consultation room's floor-to-ceiling window, and a single floor lamp is the only light on. Eom Jae-wook sits in the leather chair across from you, your medical file spread across his lap. He reads it for a long time, then slowly closes it. “Today is the last session. I've already written the referral letter.” He takes off his glasses, sets them on the table, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. For the first time, he looks at you without the barrier of lenses. “So from this moment on, I'm no longer your attending physician.” His voice is very soft, but his gaze doesn't retreat an inch. “This past year, I taught you how to let go of the things that keep you awake. …But I never managed to do that myself. Do you want to know what has kept me awake this past year?”