I Bit My Best Friend Until The System Spoiled Me Chapter 10

I Bit My Best Friend Until The System Spoiled Me Chapter 10

“I’ll pick you up on Sunday,” he had said. “The specialist is highly professional.”

Personally, I didn’t think he was professional at all.

Granted, his office was fully equipped, but the way the doctor looked at me carried a constant, barely perceptible smirk. It wasn’t exactly offensive, but it left me with an incredibly bizarre sensation. It felt as though our paths had crossed somewhere before.

Yet, the second he spoke, I knew I didn’t know him-because there was no way I’d forget a therapist with a voice that smooth and captivating.

Ethan sat right next to me, a leather-bound notebook open in his hands, causing the system to let out an awed gasp.

[You could search heaven and earth, and you’d never find another Male Lead this saintly. He’s not only finding you a specialist, he’s literally taking clinical notes on your condition. Even though he loathes you to the absolute core, he’s still being this supportive.]

In front of us, the doctor continued to drone on.

“During the primary developmental stage between ages three and seven, when primary teeth transition to permanent ones, the alveolar bone and gingival tissues experience persistent soreness and itching.”

“The brain instinctively drives behaviors such as clenching, chewing, and biting to leverage mechanical pressure to soothe the gingival nerves. This is a completely standard physiological instinct in early childhood.”

“Your specific case falls under an early developmental habituation error. Miss Sterling, because you chose to hide this from your parents instead of seeking proper behavioral guidance, the habit simply solidified over time.”

He pushed up his glasses and glanced over at Ethan, who was meticulously scribbling down every word. A subtle reflection flickered across the doctor’s lenses.

“But you can rest assured. This does not indicate violent tendencies or an aggressive personality disorder.”

Ethan’s pen faltered slightly. He lifted his head to lock eyes with the therapist.

“And the long-term treatment plan…?”

The man cleared his throat softly.

“Her fixation is purely an attachment behavior left over from childhood; it’s not an aggressive psychiatric issue, so there’s no need to forcefully suppress it.”

I picked at my cuticles, suddenly getting the bizarre impression that Ethan was acting like my legal

guardian.

“Biting, at its core, is a mechanism she uses to establish a sense of security.”

“In the future, whenever she experiences emotional volatility or a sudden impulse, a close partner

or friend should offer tactile comfort-like hugs or grounding touches. This will slowly override

and replace the old conditioning.”

The consultation room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the soft scratch of Ethan’s pen bleeding

onto the paper.

The doctor continued at a measured pace.

“The two of you can negotiate gentle physical boundaries. During this transitional phase, light nibbling can be tolerated, with the frequency scaled down incrementally. Focus on managing her negative emotions; once the underlying triggers decrease, the behavior will naturally recede.”

“This process cannot be rushed. It requires long-term, patient co-regulation and companionship to fully realign her habits.”

I parted my lips, intending to tell the doctor that I had already resorted to gnawing on my own arm,

but Ethan cut me off before I could speak.

“What are the clinical consequences of excessive suppression during this process?”

“Forcing the suppression of a behavioral habit deeply rooted since childhood will drastically compound her anxiety, which will paradoxically amplify the urge to bite.”

The system started screeching in my brain again.

[See? See? I told you that you were messed up!]

[The Male Lead is literally a saint. Look at how intensely focused he is on taking notes. What regular friend would be this uncomplainingly devoted to your baggage?]

On the drive back, neither of us said a word.