The Second Target of Taming (2)

I strolled casually over toward the front of the room, admiring my handiwork.

"Well, that took nicely."

Confirming that Nora was thoroughly entranced, I made my way to the entrance of the lecture hall. The clock read seven-twenty. There was still plenty of time before the first lecture began, but not enough to lounge around carelessly. For some reason, no other cadets had trickled into the building yet, but there was no telling when that stroke of luck might run dry. Whatever I needed to do had to be wrapped up swiftly before any uninvited guests barged in.

Click.

Poking my head out, I swept a glance down the empty hallway, pulled the door shut, and turned the lock. Then I hurried back to Nora and lightly hovered my palm near the back of her head.

A soft hiss of mystical energy slipped through the air. Just like with Reya, a sprawling nebula billowed out between my fingers, unfolding into an expansive mental cosmos.

"Damn, look at that splendor. It's practically screaming 'genius at work.' Shining bright enough to blind someone."

A vibrant, iridescent galaxy filled my vision in every direction, proving that her reputation as a prodigy seen once in a century was no exaggeration. An involuntary exclamation slipped past my lips as I took it in. I stared blankly at her dazzling inner world for a moment before snapping back to reality.

Admiring the scenery can wait. Right now, I need to plant the suggestions for her hypnotic taming.

To do that, I first needed to nail down a concept for how to groom Nora Pleiade.

"A concept, huh..."

With Reya, tailoring the conditioning to an exhibitionist theme was an obvious choice given her timid, withdrawn personality and the labyrinthine layout of the library. But what kind of angle would work best for Nora?

From what I had observed, she was an unrelenting perfectionist who worked tirelessly to sharpen her skills, yet at the same time, she was an insufferably haughty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠girl whose nose scraped the ceiling thanks to her peerless talent. Furthermore, while her chest was practically flat, her skin was porcelain-white enough to put highborn ladies to shame, and her face was ridiculously pretty. It was only natural that her pride and self-worth were off the charts.

Truth be told, there was no need to rack my brain over it. I had already dreamed up how I wanted to shape dear Miss Nora Pleiade long before this moment.

Since her pride was as unyielding as orichalcum, the plan was simple: preserve that precious ego while reaping the maximum bonus of illicit thrill. No matter how lewd the harassment or how humiliating the commands I subjected her to, she would fail to properly register what was happening; her mouth would spit venomous contempt at me, yet her body would obediently carry out every degrading order. It was a decadent little fantasy I had thoroughly mapped out during downtime.

When, exactly? During boring lectures. Back then, I had drawn up custom conditioning schemes for every girl rumored to be pretty across the entire academy.

"Never thought I'd get to put it into practice this fast."

I had always intended to make a move on Nora eventually, but considering we had zero connection, no friendly rapport, and practically no chance of being left completely alone like this, I had temporarily shelved the thought. Luck was truly on my side today.

Setting aside my self-congratulations, I reached toward the dazzling expanse of Nora's mental space to etch the first suggestions.

Then I paused.

"...Wait a minute. How the hell do I phrase the suggestions to get that exact result?"

The direction for the librarian had been straightforward: rising stress triggers an increase in libido; an inherent curiosity toward exhibitionism develops; wandering through secluded places invokes thoughts of flashing herself. A clean, causal loop—when X happens, Y occurs. Her conditioning could be summarized neatly in a single phrase: exhibitionist play.

What I wanted from Nora, however, was tangled and finicky right down to the fundamental logic. It required a conditional state of impaired perception and cognition that forced purely physical compliance. Her arrogant, prickly personality had to remain intact. She must not develop genuine romantic affection for me. She must not reject conversations or interactions with me. She must obey my commands. Minor orders had to be rationalized in her mind as doing me a special favor. If given a degrading or vulgar command, she should snap in outrage, asking why she should ever do such a thing while showering me with ridicule and disdain—all while her body obediently followed the order without her consciously recognizing her own debasement, attempting to act completely normal throughout. And even if I subjected her to sexual harassment or worse, she should respond only with light insults and scorn, without ever reporting it or taking administrative measures against me.

Just listing out the prerequisites made my head spin.

After a moment of deliberation, I reached a pragmatic conclusion. Let's play the long game.

This wasn't something that could be solved by cramming in a suggestion or two and reinforcing it once. I needed to approach it like programming a complex golem—laying down instructions one by one, observing her behavior, and tuning the parameters as I went. It wasn't as if our days together were ending anytime soon, and if it proved too cumbersome down the line, I could always pivot to a different concept. For now, I would set the intricate psychological loops aside and lay down a solid, straightforward foundation.

Steeling my resolve, I reached my hand forward once more.

Without basic communication, everything else fell apart, so that had to come first.

A crucial safety net to ensure my minor noble house didn't get blasted into ashes halfway through the process.

And finally, a precaution to ensure no meddling third parties could slip into her thoughts and raise alarms.

I considered planting a few more, but thought better of it. Rushing the process would achieve nothing, and the last thing I wanted was to end up bedridden with a migraine before noon. Besides, I needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to conserve mental power for my sweet, adorable Reya later on.

From the moment I put Nora under to the completion of the suggestions, barely four minutes had elapsed. Fortunately, no one had interrupted us. All that remained was to unlock the lecture hall door and snap her out of the trance.

That should have been the end of it, but a sudden thought gave me pause.

"Since we've come this far, wouldn't it be nice to take a commemorative photo? It's all part of making memories, after all~."

Murmuring playfully to myself, I reached into my coat and pulled out the magical camera. I had brought it along in the morning simply because walking back to the dormitory after class sounded like a chore, but it turned out to be another lucky stroke. At this rate, the Demon God Himself was probably nudging me from behind, keeping the hallway clear just so I could snap a few souvenirs.

"All right, smile for the camera, Miss Nora~."

Naturally, there was no reply from her empty stupor, but that didn't bother me in the slightest. Humming a light tune, I brought the lens up to frame her.

Click.

The film captured her slack-jawed, dazed expression, seated with her arms resting limply at her sides.

Click. Click.

I took several head-on shots to highlight her pretty features, followed by side angles to capture the clean bridge of her nose and delicate eyelashes. Given the tight schedule and the precarious location, I couldn't pose her in varied positions the way I had done with Reya, which was a real shame, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

To wrap up the inaugural photo shoot, I dropped down and crawled under the desk, aiming the lens directly up between her parted knees.

"Phew, delightfully rewarding."

Nodding in satisfaction, tinged with just a hint of lingering greed, I walked back to the entrance and quietly unlatched the lock. After pausing to listen for footsteps, I edged the door open and peeked into the corridor. A few cadets and faculty members were walking past in the distance, but all of them were headed elsewhere; none showed any intention of approaching our lecture hall.

"Man, at this point, who's to say the Demon God isn't personally running interference for me?"

Good fortune was good fortune, and I certainly wasn't about to complain. Riding that wave of momentum, it was time to finish things up cleanly.

I pulled the door closed, returned to Nora's desk, and stood before her to lift the trance.

Damn it... the corners of my mouth won't stop twitching.

Just looking at her face made a grin tug unbidden at my lips. The realization that this haughty prodigy was now securely within my grasp sent a warm rush of pleasure straight to my chest.

Focus, Victor. Focus!

I gave both of my cheeks a firm pat to pull myself together, then released Nora Pleiade from the trance.

"......?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, blinking slowly as clarity gradually returned to her vacant pupils.

Hmm. If left completely alone, how does a person usually rationalize waking up from a trance? Narcolepsy? Or do they just assume they spaced out for a second?

Curiosity flared, but now was hardly the time to conduct academic inquiries. I spoke up immediately to prevent her thoughts from wandering in dangerous directions.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Nora?"

"...Mind your own business. I was just lost in thought. More importantly, didn't I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clearly tell you not to make me repeat myself? Do my words sound like a joke to you?"

Having her attention drawn to me seemed to snap her out of the remaining haze entirely. The smooth expanse of her brow instantly scrunched into a sharp scowl, and she glared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up at me with open hostility. Such a prickly disposition.

I bowed my head with practiced deference, letting hypnotic cadence lace through my tone as I worked my tongue to soothe her temper. Yet despite my humble performance, Nora simply let out a sharp, dismissive snort and snapped her head away, clearly having nothing more to say to me.

Soaking up all the flattery she wanted before telling me to get lost—her coldness was almost breathtaking, but what choice did a low-ranking noble like me have?

"...Pardon my intrusion."

I offered another polite bow, turned on my heel, and made my way toward a sunlit window seat near the back of the lecture hall.

Phew. That took more out of me than I thought.

The moment I sank into the chair, a wave of exhaustion settled over my limbs. Even with only three suggestions planted, the mental drain was palpable. Had I given in to greed and etched a few more, I might have collapsed face-first onto the desk instead of studying. Even so, the yield was far from negligible. We had started with zero connection, and now I had established a rapport while breaking ground on her conditioning. That was a massive leap forward.

Who knew if another golden opportunity like today would ever present itself, but approaching her would be infinitely easier from now on.

Heh, and the pictures came out brilliantly.

Spreading my textbooks across the desk to maintain appearances, I retrieved the camera underneath and began reviewing the photos I had taken. Most showed Nora sitting in a blank, dazed stupor—nothing extraordinary just yet. But the very last shot was more than worthy of commemorating our first session.

Framed between her slightly parted knees was a tantalizing glimpse into the interior of her skirt. Beneath the deep shadow of the fabric lay a taut layer of sheer black pantyhose. Guarded by multiple layers of concealment, the outline of her underwear stood out with sharp prominence, the delicate swell beneath the fabric exuding an undeniably erotic presence. At the same time, the upward angle of the lens captured Nora's innocent, vacant profile in the upper half of the frame.

The true genius of the shot lay in the perspective. Taken from underneath the desk, it transcended cheap vulgarity and transformed into an illicit glimpse of a secret, forbidden space captured entirely without her knowledge.

I was hardly a professional photographer, but that single picture gave me a profound revelation.

Having a girl hike up her skirt to flaunt herself shamelessly had its own distinct appeal. But taking an unawares snapshot of an intimate area carelessly exposed in a mundane setting offered the photographer an infinitely greater rush of illicit arousal.

Damn... I'll definitely have to take plenty more photos with this concept.

Looking back and forth between the real Nora seated at the front of the room and her photograph in my hands, I let out a thoroughly satisfied nod.