Last month, I met Ayumi. Given the nature of my office, I often encounter girls dealing with various personal issues. Among them, the girl the scout brought this time left a particularly strong impression. Her eyes were red, her face soaked in tears. It was unusual—normally the scout is confident, smoothly approaching girls, but this time he seemed uneasy. The situation clearly involved something heavy. As I listened, it became apparent this wasn't just a simple lovers' quarrel; deeper problems surfaced. When the scout said, "I felt sorry for her after hearing her story," I knew he'd need a lecture later. But there was something hidden in her words. To an outsider, it might seem easy—"just break up with him"—but for her, thoughts like "he'll come back to me someday," "he's kind sometimes," and "if I just endure, everything will be fine" ran deep. She saw herself like a tragic heroine. Her heart was that damaged. Honestly, I thought her mindset was a bit twisted. If she couldn't fully let go of such a man, he'd surely turn to another woman. Telling her that truth would likely push her into despair. And that was exactly the opportunity I was looking for—a two-birds-one-stone scenario. So I told her, "I'll help you." She replied, "Even so, I still believe in him." That answer tugged at my chest. The conclusion was obvious, but for someone like her, playing the heroine, this would be the perfect setup. To be thorough, I introduced her boyfriend to another woman. I had the girl send him casual messages and go out to dinner with him. Now everything was ready. I subtly guided Ayumi to catch concrete proof of her boyfriend's infidelity. Just as expected, she spiraled into self-destruction. I gave her alcohol, then steered the conversation toward the main point. "Don't you want him to regret breaking up with you? Don't you want him to realize what a great woman Ayumi was?" I asked. She looked slightly surprised, then quietly whispered, "What should I do?"