𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳 | JJK |

5

Heiran stood before the clinic staring up at the sign over the building that read 'NightShade.' The clinic was tucked away in a discreet corner among the homely buildings of a marketplace in Gwangju. The intention was crystal clear. It didn't want to attract too much attention. 

It was a real task to find the building. The GPS could only help her so much. With a bit of street smarts and a few explaining to people why she was not a weirdo, she successfully reached her destination. Heiran adjusted her shades and bandana, checking her appearance on the selfie camera. Did she look that odd?

Thanks to a certain someone, she was somewhat well-known all over South Korea. Too well-known for her comfort. She had a distinct feeling that she wouldn't receive the same treatment if they knew her real identity.

Taking a deep breath, she walked inside the clinic, acting as casually as possible. The employee at the reception looked friendly enough as she requested a consultation, explained to her about her frequent migraines, and lied about her missing medical records. They didn't have to know that it was a real issue and that one of the best psychiatrists in the place was already working on it. A psychiatrist whose appointments she had conveniently forgotten. 

Grabbing the paperwork from the desk, she walked back to the waiting area. Despite being small, the clinic looked well-maintained and equipped, complete with its own little pharmacy. It had the familiar scent of hospital disinfectants and the chilly atmosphere inside despite it being warm outside. Heiran turned her attention back to the paperwork, filling out the form with whatever she could come up with off the top of her head. As she went over the blanks, what stood out the most was the oddly personal questionnaire.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how well are your current relationships?"

Not the best at the moment, she thought wryly.

"Have you ever been a victim of abuse or trauma?"

Yes. But you don't need to know that.

"Do you feel comfortable sharing your problems with your family?"

Nope. It wasn't too far from the truth.

"How well supported do you think you are?"

Like, sh*t. Except I'll word it professionally.

"Have you ever had thoughts about self-harm?"

No. Does harming others count?

"Have you recently experienced financial difficulties? (Our clinic offers support for the financially indisposed. Enquire with the receptionist.)"

Heiran wondered if her attire looked poor enough. But then she remembered spritzing her over-prized perfume in a force of habit and that now she made the whole place smell expensive. Being somewhat of a fashion diva didn't help her case much either. So that was a definite no.

Finished with the paperwork, she took it back to the receptionist, remembering to ask about the questionnaire.

"Why are there so many personal questions in this form? I was quite surprised," Heiran posed, putting her acting skills to work. Leaning over the counter, she lowered her voice and whispered, "I heard this clinic didn't ask too many questions."

The receptionist raised a wary eyebrow. Heiran blinked back at her innocently, brown eyes wide on full display as she tilted her shades down. The receptionist stretched her heavily coated lips and flashed her teeth. "The questionnaire is to take a measure of our patient's wellness. We ask everyone to fill out the questionnaire. If you're concerned about your privacy, we take great care about whom we share your private information with. There's no need to worry, ma'am."