Further Capturing the Family Head 1: What is Cuteness? What is Charm?
What the hell is aegyo? What the hell is Charm?
'How the fuck should I know.'
I'd have to be handsome to know that. To someone like me, who'd never been handsome a day in his life, this face with Charisma 20 was like an uncontrollable demonic sword. Swing it around thoughtlessly, and it'd gobble you up in an instant.
"Please take good care of me."
That's why practice was essential.
Click. I undid the leather strap.
I snatched off the mask and flung it away.
"Eut…!"
Violet let out a short groan and hurriedly covered her eyes.
Clatter. The plain white mask tumbled across the floor.
"Hoo…."
Fresh air I hadn't felt in ages. I roughly brushed back the hair sticking to my forehead.
"Heh."
An exclamation slipped from Notre Dame's lips.
"What manner of bizarre fate is this? To meet thee before that greedy imperial house—'tis heaven's fortune indeed."
What the hell is he on about? I came looking for him.
"Aye, the shell's exceptional, little one. Craving to show off thy tricks?"
"Yes."
The Wisdom stats of a 6th Tier and an 8th Tier differed by a mere 2 points, but the actual gap was like heaven and earth. The mental fortitude influenced by [Wisdom] would differ enormously too.
'And it works less on men than women.'
Charm received various bonuses based on the target's tastes, so I could use it freely on a fellow man like Notre Dame.
…Or not.
"Family Head, do you happen to like men too?"
"Wha'?"
"Nothing."
Notre Dame's face soured instantly. I tested the waters with a stone bridge, just in case.
"Then, here I go."
I assumed a stance. How did they do it in Dungeon & Fantasy? Something like typing [Charm] *does heart hands* in the chat window….
I tilted my head slightly. I consciously lifted the corner of my mouth and one leg. Took a big breath, loaded up on pretense.
"F-Family Head… I wuv youuu…."
I clasped my hands together and shot a heart. Thumbs for the top, the other eight fingers forming the sharp tip.
"Kek, cough—"
Violet, who had been covering and uncovering her eyes, hacked out a metallic rasp. Notre Dame's expression turned grave too.
'Fuck.'
A wave of shame crashed over me. I quickly buried my head.
"What. That it?"
Notre Dame asked in his phlegmy voice.
"…Yes."
"Hm. Thou sought to meddle with my mind, aye?"
I snapped my head up. It worked?
"Did you see what I was trying to do?"
"See it clear as day. No master to guide thee, so thou stumbled blindly. What thou aimed for be the lowest of low stratagems."
I breathed a sigh of relief that it had been treated as a meaningful skill, not some cheap skit. I'd almost ended up as the king of aegyo among the youths.
But what did he mean by "lowest stratagem"?
"Man feels affection for a target when he knows every last detail about it."
"Is that what I just did?"
Notre Dame nodded.
"Aye. And handling folk with affection? That's the low road."
He stroked his bony chin, then suddenly straightened his posture. And fixed me with a steady gaze.
"…!"
In that instant, the air around us shifted. Like water had been added to it. An indescribable weight pressed down on my shoulders.
Thud. My knees buckled uselessly.
As expected of an 8th Tier necromancer—even a glance could—
"The more one knows how grand a target be, the more one feels respect."
"This is…."
"Aye. This be handling folk with the mid stratagem."
I widened my eyes. I knew this one.
'[Overwhelm]!'
Memories of playing Dungeon & Fantasy flooded back. Third playthrough, maybe? Saw a guide online, tuned my stats perfectly for the clear condition. Entered the boss fight, and suddenly this message popped up.
‘Yong’ has been Overwhelmed.
All stats reduced by 30%!
Movement restricted.
My pathetic ‘Yong’ No. 3 got wrecked. Snapped a screenshot, pleaded in the guide's comments, but they told me to bring debuff cleanse potions—didn't even read it, just banned me for spamming.
'After that, I always packed consumables properly.'
Anyway, [Overwhelm] was a useful skill in many spots. But to learn it, you had to meet a dragonkin or vampire, so I'd half-given up on it…
'Didn't know the Gamigins had a path too.'
I cheered inwardly.
"Hah, hah…."
My body ached regardless. My head bowed on its own.
"Etch that sensation into thy skull now."
Notre Dame glanced at my struggling form, a strange expression twisting his withered lips.
"Then…."
I had to ask, even knowing.
"What's the high stratagem?"
As if he'd been waiting. His mouth split into a grotesque grin.
"Fear."
The so-called [Terror]. Dungeon & Fantasy's top-tier debuff that completely neutralized targets.
"Man feels fear toward a target when he knows nothing of it."
Suddenly, a voice echoed inside my ears. I jerked my head up, but Notre Dame just held his unpleasant smile without a twitch.
"Depthless currents. Forgotten ancient gods. The pitch-black abyss called a dungeon…."
A grating, metallic voice rattled my guts. My heart pounded like it would burst, ears rang—but I gritted my teeth and endured.
'Even this is experience.'
Stack up enough EXP steadily, and I'd acquire it someday. With that resolve, I swallowed the nausea.
Notre Dame had approached before I knew it. He leaned down and whispered.
"Even this old codger sees the mask as wise. A hand unseen be the strongest. Kekeke…."
The laughter faded slowly. As the relentless pressure hit its limit—
Flash. Enlightenment bloomed in my mind.
A path forward for using [Charisma] had opened.
As Notre Dame withdrew his gaze, the pressure lifted from my body.
'Huge harvest.'
A smile formed at the corner of my drooling mouth.
This was 8th Tier private tutoring? I went to kneel, realized I already was, and just slammed my forehead down.
Thonk!
"Family Head! Please, just once more…!"
"Quiet, whelp. Handle that face gently, no blemishes."
Notre Dame waved his hand dismissively.
"If thou intrigue me, I'll ask old friends versed in similar arts…."
"Thank you!"
Even paving connections like this? Friends of an 8th Tier man would be exceptional too.
Someone specialized in [Charisma]….
'Shaman or bard class, maybe. Vampire, demon, siren race.'
If I had more chances to experiment with [Charm] till then. Hell, right now I might even pull off [Overwhelm], if not [Terror].
"For real now. Aigoo, such a handful…."
With that, Notre Dame shuddered away.
I approached Violet, who clutched the mask. Damp heat poured off her visibly.
"Ahem, ahem. Father's not one to teach that stuff usually. You're lucky."
Violet fanned herself, eyes averted. Good thing [Charm] hadn't targeted her—no major issues.
'Come to think of it, no reason for her to be this worked up…'
Under her prickly gaze, I picked up the mask.
"Next phase then. Same method as before. But this time—"
The interrupted lesson was about to resume.
"Kyaaah!!"
A familiar scream rang out.
'River.'
Urgent, sharp as bared fangs… I spun around on reflex.
2. Silent dawn. The room right after Nael left.
Twitch. Leverat's long ears flicked.
The awakened girl scanned her surroundings.
'Heard something weird.'
Scrape. This time, unmistakable. Something being sliced.
"…?"
A foreboding chill brushed her. Leverat grabbed the small staff by her bedside.
"Nael, just now…."
Nael's spot: empty. Instead, she shook River, sleeping in a bizarre pose.
"River, wake up."
"Mmmng…."
Leverat closed her eyes. The staff tip trembled, glowing blue.
"Search."
2nd circle magic, Search. Mana waves spread through the lodging, catching a man outside the door.
"…!"
Hairs rose on her nape.
"River, River!"
"Huh?"
"Get ready to fight."
In that instant, the slicing noise stopped.
"What. Another mage?"
Instead, a different sound. Click. The door handle turned easily.
Leverat paled. River, now alert, assumed a stance.
"Can't even pretend to be a burglar, eh."
The man who'd picked the lock with a key. The bearded uncle who'd greeted guests at the dorm entrance. A gleaming dagger in his hand.
"Weird, huh? Both beastkin, but a mage? First time seeing that."
The leisurely man flicked his knife.
"Scream and you die. Quietly—"
"Kyaaah!!"
River judged fast. Bam! Her trained body smashed the bed.
Straight, powerful arc. Aimed dead at his gut…
"Just a kid."
He deflected effortlessly. His dagger glowed red-hot.
Slash! "…!"
The blade gouged deep into River's back.
"What. Why isn't it cutting?"
As he faltered—
Whoosh! Leverat's flames roared at his face.
He deftly unfurled his cloak to block.
"This…."
Quickly sprinkling purple powder from his sleeve.
"Kek, cough!"
River collapsed, hacking and rolling.
Thwack! A heavy kick slammed Leverat. Staff snapped; she sprawled.
"Hoo…."
Situation cleared in seconds. He caught his breath, reversed his grip on the dagger.
And.
"…?"
An immense presence from outside the window. He turned naturally.
"……."
The clearing thick with blue mist. A boy in a white mask atop it.
Impossible to ignore; his eyes were drawn despite himself.
In the empty air, their gazes crossed.
3. "Got it."
I cast [Overwhelm] immediately.