The Second Target of Taming (1)
Click.
Click, click.
I shifted from angle to angle, snapping shot after shot of Reya holding up her own skirt and spreading her thighs. After capturing a straightforward angle from the front, I dropped into a low crouch right before her to shoot upward, then brought the lens within inches of her panties, framing the clear, unmistakable contour pressed against the fabric. Leaning in that close brought the rich, warm scent of her flesh drifting into my nostrils, carrying with it the faintest tang of ammonia.
Once I had finished a thoroughly satisfying shoot, I straightened my back and indulged in a long, luxurious stretch.
"Phew... Feels like a thousand years of fatigue just washed right out of me."
If one were to pursue an ordinary relationship and date like an ordinary person, an opportunity to witness a scene like this would practically never present itself. Short of someone working in a brothel, what woman in her right mind would willingly put herself in such an undignified display? Let alone permit someone to capture it on camera, immortalizing the disgrace so that anyone could look upon it whenever they pleased? Unless an insurmountable gulf in social standing existed between the two, it was simply out of the question.
Yet hypnosis rendered it effortlessly possible. It could coax a woman whose pride stood level with her exquisite beauty into adopting such a shameful pose all on her own—and with a smile, no less.
"Especially that crooked, awkward little smile. That really is the masterpiece."
Her expression was undoubtedly the result of rarely smiling in everyday life, yet that rigid clumsiness only lent it an even more arousing charm. In truth, every instinct urged me to push her down this very second and take her like a dog... but today, I chose to show considerable restraint. Part of it came down to a simple lack of stamina, but more importantly, treats of this caliber were best left to simmer. Letting desire steep until the fruit ripened to bursting always multiplied both the flavor and the fulfillment a hundredfold.
Short of committing some catastrophic blunder, nobody was going to haul me away before I had my taste. There was no need to rush; like the fox in the fable, I intended to relish the anticipation itself. Of course, that merely meant I would refrain from claiming her final intimacy today—everything short of that remained entirely on the table.
"Well, that wraps up today's business... though leaving it here does sting a little."
I guided Reya back to her original spot and restored her exact posture so she wouldn't suspect a thing, smacking my lips as I murmured under my breath. Checking my pocket watch, I saw that barely thirty minutes had elapsed since plunging her into the trance. Unless a person checked the time compulsively, losing half an hour in a secluded spot like this would hardly feel unusual. That being the case, wouldn't it be harmless to indulge just a fraction more—say, grabbing a firm handful of that magnificent backside and fondling it as a commemorative reward for our maiden session?
Naturally, there was a risk she might snap awake with a shrill, frantic scream, but there was an equal chance a single firm squeeze wouldn't disturb her slumber at all. Entertaining such idle notions, I refrained from dismissing the trance with a verbal command and instead placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her a direct shake.
Tap, tap. Shake, shake.
"...U-Ugh... Mm...?"
Only after ten full seconds of gentle rocking did Reya let out a soft whimper and begin to regain her senses. The suggestion to fall into a profound trance had taken hold far better than anticipated. I had planted it merely as insurance against premature waking, yet the potency exceeded my expectations. Combined with the suggestion dulling her five senses, the synergy proved remarkable—perhaps sneaking a feel of her rear wouldn't have broken the spell after all.
"Are you feeling alright, Reya?"
"Huh...? Eek...?! I-I'm fine...!"
I addressed her with an innocent, concerned expression. Reya, still looking somewhat dazed, turned toward my voice. The sudden realization of our close proximity startled her so thoroughly that she recoiled several steps in pure fright.
"Are you sure you're alright? You suddenly froze and stood there blankly for quite a while... Are you unwell?"
Concealing my weariness, I pressed on with the act, radiating polite concern.
"...Pardon? Ah... Y-Yes... I'm alright..."
Her eyes darted frantically across the room as if struggling to assemble the missing pieces. Before long, she edged back toward me with hesitant steps and bowed her head deeply in apology.
"I-I am so sorry... My mind suddenly went blank while I was leading the way..."
There was no trace of suspicion or wariness in her demeanor. By all appearances, she had simply written off her blackout as a momentary bout of lightheadedness. That meant there was nothing left to worry about.
"Please, don't worry about it. These things happen. More importantly, are you genuinely alright? If you aren't feeling well, you really shouldn't push yourself."
"Eh?"
I accepted her apology with easy grace, turning the conversation around to display earnest consideration by insisting that the research materials were not urgent and she should go rest. Reya fluttered in panic, stammering that she was perfectly fine, that our destination was just ahead, and desperately attempting to decline my courtesy. But as was often the case with timid wallflowers, having their polite refusals rejected left them completely breathless. Add in the fact that she had already lost her composure once, and Reya found herself with no choice but to acquiesce.
"T-Then... I shall take my leave for today... Um, ah, uuu..."
Her lips worked soundlessly for a moment as if longing to say something more. In the end, she offered a resigned bow and vanished at a brisk, scurrying trot. Handled this way, she would likely stew in guilt and indebtedness, fretting over how to treat me better the next time our paths crossed. That was precisely the outcome I intended. And if she didn't? No great loss. A fresh touch of hypnosis would settle the matter regardless.
The following morning arrived after a deep, restful slumber in the dormitories. Thanks to the recoil of the Demonic Tool forcing me into early nights and early mornings, I stepped out into the courtyard far earlier than usual. Having no fixed destination in mind, my plan was simply to drop my bag in the lecture hall and wander the vast academy grounds.
Dawn was only just breaking, leaving the surroundings draped in cool dimness, yet several cadets were already out and about. Most were Knight Department students running morning laps, interspersed with occasional faculty members or peers from the Magic and General Departments. Interestingly, their attire varied slightly depending on their discipline. It wasn't due to differing uniform regulations, but rather because the early mornings of early May remained quite chilly before the sun fully crested the horizon.
The indoor types from Magic and General Departments largely wrapped themselves in long sleeves and robes, whereas the spirited souls of the Knight Department threw themselves into morning drills sporting short sleeves, shorts, and tank tops that barely differed from underwear. What a wholesome, admirable sight it was. Those of us in the Magic and General Departments could certainly stand to learn from their example—strictly regarding the female cadets, of course. The male swordsmen, for reasons beyond comprehension, seemed determined to strip to the waist during every single run. Complete madmen, the lot of them.
"Hmm. But there really isn't anyone who catches the eye."
Feasting one's eyes was one thing, but scouting fresh prey was another. As I had lamented previously, finding someone who met my standards proved vexingly difficult. Obtaining the Demonic Tool had undoubtedly inflated my tastes. Knowing that anyone could be mine with sufficient effort made the flawed, average, or cheap options lose all appeal. A troublesome dilemma indeed.
After casually appraising the faces and figures of the women passing through the grounds, I tucked my heavy leather bag filled with specialized texts under my arm and headed toward the academy's main hall. Ideally, I would have preferred to dedicate every waking hour to hypnotic conditioning, but the unfortunate reality of my cadet status demanded attendance.
Rattle. Click.
"Huh? Why is it so empty?"
Tilting my head, I double-checked the plaque outside before stepping through the doorway. Usually, at least ten eager students would be gathered early to study, yet today the vast lecture room held only a solitary figure.
"Tsk."
Evidently irked by my wandering gaze, the lone occupant glanced up, raked her eyes over me from head to toe, and clicked her tongue.
Nora Pleiade.
Top overall student of the first-year Magic Department, direct disciple of the Imperial Tower Master, hailed universally as a once-in-a-century prodigy destined to become the next Tower Master—a figure adorned with countless glittering accolades. Yet through my lens, she was nothing more than a lowborn orphan of unknown parentage. Watching such a wretch swagger about solely on the merits of raw talent grated severely on my nerves... though regrettably, her social standing vastly overshadowed my own. So what was the appropriate course of action for someone in my position?
"Good morning, Miss Pleiade."
I put on a radiant, oblivious smile as though I hadn't heard a thing, approaching the high-and-mighty prodigy with a textbook bow. What else could I do? When outmatched, one bowed like an obedient dog. Crashing headlong into an orphan favored by the Tower Master over a petty insult would bring ruin upon my entire household.
Ugh, damn it all. The Academy is great, but having to walk on eggshells around so many people is infuriating.
Swallowing my inward grumbling, I watched her reaction. From beneath her unruly bangs, a pair of vivid crimson eyes glared straight through me.
"Hmph."
True to form, her response was total dismissal.
Has this brat hit menopause early or something? What did I even do to earn this attitude?
Rumors claimed she harbored a fierce hatred for nobles, supposedly stemming from some mistreatment in her childhood. If she had a score to settle, she ought to take it up with the culprits rather than taking it out on an innocent bystander like me. Though considering her looks, it wouldn't have been surprising if she had drawn unsavory attention.
Soft silver hair draped down past her waist, framing a face graced with striking, hypnotic crimson eyes. Despite her baseborn roots, her complexion was as pristine as fresh snow, accompanied by delicate, finely sculpted features that anyone would deem gorgeous. Her frame was diminutive, looking as though it advertised a childhood starved of nourishment, and her chest was entirely flat. Yet that slender fragility did nothing to diminish the haughty, alluring aura she radiated.
Hmm. Should I push the boundary a bit?
After a brief hesitation, I pitched my voice low, letting the Demonic Tool's hum weave through my tone.
"If I have done anything to displease you, Miss Pleiade, I offer my sincere apologies."
Predictably, silence met my words.
"If you could point out my fault, I shall take great care never to repeat it."
Ignored once more.
"Though my own skills are modest, as a fellow student of magic, I have long admired your radiant genius and the relentless dedication with which you hone your craft."
Her eyebrow twitched.
Seizing the opening, I poured every ounce of shameless flattery I could muster into my voice.
"If it wouldn't be an imposition, would you permit me to—"
"Ha! Save the nauseating flatteries."
Nora snapped her head toward me, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Oh? You're finally looking my way?
I would have loved to celebrate the small victory, but the venom pooling in her expression suggested she was ready to crack my skull open with a thick encyclopedia. Instinctively, I took a half-step back.
Strange. Just yesterday, my experiments had confirmed that applying hypnosis not through blunt commands, but through persuasion, flattery, and deceit doubled its success rate. My willing guinea pigs among my delinquent peers had attested that my words struck with theatrical gravitas and unusual persuasiveness under its influence. Yet despite laying it on thick, what about my approach had displeased her so?
Is it simply because she lacks breeding?
Swallowing dryly, I tracked her every move with acute caution.
"..."
"......"
"...If you have business, spit it out and get lost."
Tch, got startled over nothing. Acting all prickly when she secretly loved every word.
A quiet sigh of relief slipped past my lips as I noted the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, betrayed by her attempt to maintain an indifferent facade. Then again, when would a commoner ever have heard such praise? Especially from an aristocrat willingly bending the knee, wagging his tail while subtle hypnotic suggestion stroked her ego. Without the Demonic Tool, she likely would have ignored me into oblivion, but results were results.
Hiding my smirk behind an earnest mask, I pressed forward.
"If it isn't too bold a request, might an unremarkable cadet like myself be granted the privilege of getting to know you better, Miss Pleiade?"
In short: I wanted to become friends.
"Hah! You seem to have eyes in your head, at least... but why on earth would I waste my time befriending someone like you?"
Nora's lips curled into a mocking sneer, her posture adopting an air of sheer condescension. What followed was a torrential, unfiltered stream of insults directed at my person. Naturally, I cast my eyes downward with an air of wounded solemnity, remaining utterly silent. When someone of superior rank used you as an emotional dumping ground, scowling in return was an invitation for trouble. Besides, I had already secured precisely what I came for.
As she busied herself deriding me, the lingering vigilance and suspicion vanished entirely from her face. All that remained was scorn, mockery, and the smug satisfaction of superiority.
"Now that you understand, get out of my sight and stop bothering me. Don't make me repeat myself. Understood?"
As the final sharp syllables left her lips, Nora wore a refreshed, triumphant expression—and then stiffened completely.
"Alright, time is short, so let's handle this quickly."
It was high time I taught our poorly disciplined little prodigy, Miss Nora, proper deportment as a woman.