Obtaining the Hypnotic Demonic Tool

When mortal hands enchant an object with magic, it is known as an artifact.

When the Goddess painstakingly stitches and shapes an item with Her own hands, it is known as a sacred relic.

And when the Demon God cobbles something together out of sheer, idle boredom, it is known as a demonic tool.

These three simple definitions reveal a singular, undeniable truth.

Namely, our dear Demon God had entirely too much free time on His hands.

Now, why am I bringing up our chronically bored Demon God in the first place? Well, nothing major—it's just that His little time-waster of a demonic tool happens to be strapped to my wrist right this second.

"Mmh... Now what in the world am I supposed to do with this?"

Fingering the battered, utterly unassuming metal band, my thoughts drifted back to the peculiar sequence of events that had transpired barely an hour ago.

I had been wandering the city's back alleys to stretch my legs when I stumbled upon a dingy antique shop. The proprietor possessed a tongue so slick and silver that, before I knew what was happening, I found myself half-dazed and paying good coin for the bracelet he was singing praises about.

And holy hell, wouldn't you know it? The damn thing turned out to be an actual demonic tool.

The moment I fastened the band around my wrist, I knew. A tidal wave of obscure, intimate information flooded directly into my skull, explaining precisely what kind of relic it was and detailing the full extent of its functions down to the pettiest trivia.

Startled out of my wits, I snapped my head up with full intention of slapping that shady old merchant across the jaw—only to find myself standing all alone in an empty alleyway. The shop had vanished without a trace.

So that's my current situation.

To sum up the demonic tool's abilities, they boiled down to roughly this:

Yeah. It's exactly what you're imagining.

The magnificent favor our bountiful, gracious Demon God saw fit to bestow upon me was, in plain terms, the quintessential hypnotic magic tool straight out of an erotic novel!

There was just one tiny catch: its baseline output was pitifully deficient.

"Hey, quit running like that. It's dangerous."

"Huh? Uh... wait, wha—I-I'm so sorry! I'm in a huge rush...!"

As you can see, I couldn't even stop an ill-mannered brat charging down the street in his tracks.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I sampled a few pieces of fruit here?"

"...Why, of course, young master! Help yourself, eat as much as you like, and just say the word!"

"Mmm, delicious. Care to throw in a whole basket on the house?"

"Er... well, that's a bit..."

"Just pulling your leg. How much for the basket?"

"Ah, heavens! Just ten copper coins, good sir!"

See what I mean? I couldn't even fleece a stingy fruit vendor out of a complimentary basket. In terms of sheer, brute psychic output, the bracelet was unmistakably flawed.

Then again, that was common knowledge when it came to demonic tools. To iron out such shortcomings, one normally had to fulfill the twisted rituals the Demon God arranged for each artifact, upgrading its performance through dark offerings...

"Problem is, I don't have the slightest intention of doing that."

I took a crisp bite of the fruit I had just bought, letting the sweet juice fill my mouth as I pondered. That sort of mindless power grind simply wasn't my style.

A power capable of flipping the entire Empire on its head if wielded properly? Well, I'm only human, so naturally the prospect sounded tempting. Total authority to force thousands to their knees and puppeteer them to my whims? Lowly backwater noble though I was, I wasn't so naive as to ignore the intoxicating allure of power.

Besides, the moment I started upgrading a demonic relic, a modest provincial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barony like my family's would be blown to smithereens, and I would spend the rest of my miserable days fleeing the Empire's relentless inquisitors and divine witch-hunters. Sure, that was reason enough to keep my head down.

Yet on a far more fundamental level, upgrading the damn thing would just spoil all the fun.

As established, the trinket adorning my wrist was, by all accounts, a tool of hypnosis. And what is the true essence of hypnosis? What springs to mind whenever anyone hears the word?

It's the intoxicating thrill of taking a person who would otherwise never give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you the time of day, painstakingly reshaping her psyche until you can summon her whenever you please, anywhere, anytime, for some utterly shameless indulgence. Hehehe...

Now, if a hypnotic tool's output is absurdly overpowered right from the start, a fatal problem emerges.

Picture it for a moment.

Imagine the device is so outrageously potent that a snobbish, drill-haired villainess—who only seconds ago spat, 'Hmph! How dare an unwashed peasant like you breathe the same air as me?!'—instantly snaps with a single flick of your fingers, vigorously wagging her rear end while squealing, 'Woof, woof! Please praise your good little puppy, Master!'

Well? How does that sound?

'Sounds bloody amazing, honestly.'

True. It sounds fantastic. Even the third leg between my thighs stands at full salute to the sheer erotic charge of that fantasy.

However, if every conflict resolves with a snap of your fingers, and whatever you desire falls neatly into your lap without a shred of effort, existence becomes a monotonous bore. Even in a simple game of cards, an advantage is only thrilling when it keeps things competitive. If you force the opponent to lay their hand face-up on the table while dictating every single draw from the deck, where on earth is the game?

At the end of the day, nothing is emptier than a result stripped of its process. An instant, god-tier cheat that turns women into drooling, love-struck sycophants with a single word might offer cheap gratification for an hour, but it lacks romance, soul, and artistry. It's the crutch of a hopeless amateur!

True connoisseurs crave the slow unraveling of human personality! That tantalizing friction of cognitive dissonance! The exquisite tension as she repeatedly clashes against absurd situations, only to find herself submitting against her own common sense! Watching that psychological corruption unfold in real-time, savoring every delicious crack in her facade until the fruit is dripping, overripe, and begging to be plucked—now that is the pinnacle of culture!

To wield hypnosis merely as a blunt instrument for rushed, crude rutting is no different from strapping a fleshlight and a gramophone onto a stone golem and mindlessly pumping your hips. Any gentleman of refined breeding ought to renounce such barbaric conduct.

Therefore, I was perfectly content with the bracelet just the way it was.

"Granted, that philosophy only holds up if it produces at least the bare minimum baseline."

Pulling another ripe fruit from the paper bag, I took a hearty bite and strode forward.

"Whatever the case, I'll figure out the finer details once I've secured my very first partner."

My destination was the cradle of the realm's finest young talents—the Imperial Academy, where I was currently enrolled. There, I intended to conduct my little experiments, indulge my burning curiosities, and leisurely test every boundary step by deliberate step.

Marching back onto academy grounds brimming with ambition had felt exhilarating, but once I actually looked around, finding an appropriate candidate proved unexpectedly tricky.

The time hovered around half past six in the evening. Regular departmental lectures had concluded hours ago, meaning the campus grounds were crawling with students wandering about on their own business. If my goal was simply to test whether the magic tool functioned, prospective test subjects were practically falling from the sky.

Even now, a female cadet in an immaculate academy uniform brushed right past me with brisk, fluttering steps. If I only wanted a quick-and-dirty trial run, I could have grabbed her by the shoulder and thrown some command her way.

Yet where would be the entertainment in that?

Having willingly forsaken the easy path of artifact upgrades for the sake of aesthetic pleasure, I wanted this momentous first experience to be shared with a companion I could enjoy for a very long time.

Did I already pop my hypnotic cherry on that brat and the fruit merchant, you ask? Please. Men with rods don't count toward the tally.

In any case, what I needed was a woman who struck an immediate chord the moment our eyes met—an irresistible beauty. Yet surprisingly, none of the girls walking past fit the bill.

"Mmh... Perhaps my criteria are a little too vague."

Or perhaps the issue lay in my mindset, wandering the campus like some sleazy theater troupe director scouting for starlets on the street.

Pausing to lean against a stone wall with folded arms, I mentally listed the requirements for my destined starting heroine.

'Let's see... First, it should be an environment where I can freely test the bracelet's other functions alongside basic hypnosis...'

A quiet place with minimal foot traffic, where the target wouldn't feel out of place lingering for prolonged periods.

'Next, she should occupy a role or social position that makes her easy to approach without raising suspicion...'

Someone timid, unassertive, or exceedingly obliging—unlikely to put up stiff resistance or storm out the room before I could even establish rapport.

'And above all else...'

She had to be gorgeous.

...

Come to think of it, didn't that quiet older girl at the Academy Library match every single one of those traits?

Whenever you stepped into the archives, she was there. For reasons unknown, she spent most of her shifts drifting through the sprawling maze of bookshelves under the pretext of organizing tomes, making her extraordinarily easy to lure into an isolated alcove.

More importantly, despite possessing an utterly devastating, eye-popping feminine figure that no red-blooded man could ever scrub from his memory, her painfully reserved demeanor created a delicious contrast of vulnerability and gap-moe. Her appearance, combined with that timid demeanor, gave off the fragile aura of a frightened little animal, practically screaming to be coddled—or thoroughly defiled.

"Hmm. That librarian miss isn't a bad choice at all, is she?"

She wasn't without her quirks, but look past the minor details: she was young, exceptionally pretty, gifted with massive breasts and generous hips, adorably shy, and blessed with an utterly ridiculous rack. With credentials like that, it was practically my civic duty to pay her a personal visit.

Granted, if she had already clocked out for the day, that would put a damper on things... but I could always try again tomorrow.

"Ah, what a shame. I originally intended to inaugurate this power on a fellow classmate. Consider yourself exceptionally fortunate, dear librarian. You're getting the royal treatment."

I let out an amused, airy snicker, talking to myself like a madman. Truth be told, I hadn't been able to wipe the silly smirk off my face for the past hour. I was the proud owner of a genuine demonic tool—a hypnotic one at that! What healthy man wouldn't be grinning like a lunatic? Bring anyone into my shoes, and every single one of them would be standing on the curb giggling to themselves over filthy daydreams.

"Right then. The target is locked. Let's make our move."

Steeling my composure, I picked up the pace. The Imperial Academy Library was partially accessible to the general public, situated near the outer perimeter of the campus grounds. Befitting the continent's preeminent academic sanctuary, the structure was gargantuan.

Trekking out to the boundary wall took a fair bit of time on its own, but navigating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the labyrinthine interior—expanded and renovated so many times that it resembled a subterranean maze—demanded serious legwork if you were hunting for a specific soul. If I dragged my feet, our gloomy, busty librarian might clock out and slip through my fingers before I even caught her scent.

Occupying my mind with elaborate schemes of how best to hypnotically train our lovely librarian made the journey pass in a flash. Truly, I had to thank the Demon God for His gracious blessings.

Creak. Tap, tap.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door—which let out a slight squeak from neglected oiling—I stepped into the grand hall. As mentioned, the facility was accessible to outsiders, so a smattering of townspeople and researchers mingled among the uniformed cadets. Because of the building's sheer volume, the interior felt remarkably desolate despite the steady trickle of visitors.

Midterm examinations had only just wrapped up, prompting the usual hordes of studying students to clear out en masse. For my purposes, it couldn't have been more ideal. A crowded room would make spending quality, intimate time with the librarian terribly inconvenient.

"Now then, where should I begin?"

Scanning the soaring arches of the ground floor, I began charting a course through the quieter, less frequented archives. This library was slated to become my primary operational theater, so familiarizing myself with the layout was a priority. If I happened across her along the way, I could effortlessly steer her toward one of the sequestered corners I had just scouted.

Though I had frequented the library since matriculating, I had always stuck to the same familiar reading carrels. Even after a year at the academy, the intricate geography of the annex remained foreign territory. This was the perfect opportunity to scout the terrain.

"Evening, keep up the good work."

"Haha, thank you, cadet Haust. Just doing my job."

Whenever I crossed paths with roving staff members, I greeted them with an easy smile and exchanged pleasantries. I wasn't just greeting folks out of manic excitement over my impending hypnotic conquests; establishing rapport served as cover to track their patrol patterns and ensure no wandering eyes would interrupt us later.

Naturally, I made sure never to ask directly after the timid librarian. If gossiping staff noticed me specifically hunting for her, unneeded scrutiny would follow, creating an unnecessary headache. If she had already left for the night, I'd simply accept it as an act of fate and try again another day.

After sweeping the first floor and combing through roughly half of the second tier, my patience was finally rewarded.

Catching sight of her between the tall oak shelves, I couldn't help but congratulate myself on my impeccable taste.

"Ah, there you are. Good evening."

"Huh? Oh... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ah, g-good evening...?"

Round spectacles perched on her nose, dark bobbed hair framing a delicate, retiring face—she was the very picture of an understated, timid beauty. Her slightly messy bangs partially curtained her eyes, and the faint dark circles underneath gave her a somewhat somber, reclusive air, yet that melancholic gloom acted like the finest seasoning, accentuating her distinct feminine charm.

She seemed acutely aware of her own magnetism, seemingly desperate to conceal it beneath a heavy, oversized knit cardigan and a billowing long skirt. She held herself in a perpetual, self-conscious hunch, yet that very posture backfired spectacularly. All that frantic concealment merely accentuated the breathtaking contours of her melon-sized bosom and the lush, ripe flare of her hips, making her infinitely more tantalizing to the eye.

In a word: she was built to be thoroughly devoured.

Yet I am Victor Haust. A gentleman who reveres the sacred art of patience.

Reining in my wicked impulses with iron discipline, I addressed the librarian with my most deferential, polite academy cadence.

"Pardon the intrusion while you're working. I've been searching everywhere for a specific volume, but I can't seem to locate it on the shelves. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind helping me find it?"

"Uh... w-well, um... I'm actually a bit busy right now..."

Good heavens. The poor girl was even more skittish than I had anticipated.

"If that's the case... perhaps you could ask one of the other attendants...?"

I hadn't even lifted a finger yet, and she was already looking around for an escape hatch. Before I could even think about hypnotic conditioning, my first order of business would be soothing this jittery little creature's nerves.