The Hypnosis Cliché Only the Reader Knows
The heavy iron door slammed shut with a resounding clang, announcing perfect isolation from the outside world. In the dark living room of the annex, I stood with my back to the firmly closed door and slowly surveyed the two utterly contrasting, grotesque scenes before me.
On the cold floor lay Karin, her knees having buckled from a single gesture of mine moments earlier. The deep blue blindfold that had covered her eyes now rolled across the floor, slightly disheveled, and through the gap her red pupils flickered with a chaotic storm of murderous rage and humiliation aimed directly at me.
In stark contrast, Camilla—the knight commander once called the Empire’s greatest sword—clung to my right arm like a leech. Her vision completely sealed by a pink blindfold, she relied solely on animalistic scent and touch, panting as she rubbed her drenched lower body against my thigh in sticky, obscene strokes.
An arrogant female knight burning with hatred, and the once-noble knight commander now behaving like a bitch in heat, coquettishly grinding against my leg. The depravity of it sent a electric thrill racing up my spine.
“Haah… This is insane.”
The overwhelming sense of taboo rising from these two women’s violently opposing states filled me with a spine-tingling ecstasy. After publicly declaring ownership in front of dozens of nobles and dragging these supreme-grade dolls into this secret room, the time had finally come for me—as their master—to tear away their pretty wrapping and savor every inch of what lay beneath.
My rational mind screamed at me to drop my trousers immediately and ravage their bodies like a beast. Yet I drew a deep breath and coldly crushed the surging lust.
As someone who had read the original novel Making a Wife Through Hypnosis until the pages wore thin, I knew better. If I lost control of this boiling pleasure and took them without preparation, my head would soon roll.
The bible of classic hypnosis stories that dominated the early 2000s, Making a Wife Through Hypnosis, was a four-volume epic that operated on an entirely different level from lightweight wish-fulfillment tales featuring smartphone hypnosis apps, in-game status windows, or convenient hypnosis guns. Its true brilliance lay in the meticulous process: first utterly dominating the body, then slowly enslaving the mind through vicious abuse and lethal temptation.
Although the author pulled an unreasonable stunt in volume three and vanished for over twenty years during volume four’s serialization, the work still boasted a delicate, long-form buildup. Some critics even called it a romance fantasy disguised as hypnosis abuse.
In that story, the hypnosis methods differed drastically depending on the heroine. Volume two depicted the knight mother and daughter being thoroughly corrupted through relentless torment, only to be bound at the end with a perfect suggestion that turned them into the protagonist’s exclusive guard knights.
And an indispensable cliché in such a narrative was the dramatic awakening scene in which the heroine breaks free of hypnosis and regains her sense of self.
“Mommy…! Please, save me… Mommy!”
In the original, the first to awaken after enduring the President’s cruel abuse was Karin, portrayed as exceptionally clever. Yet because she was clever, the moment she regained her self, every memory of the hypnotic torment flooded back at once. The despair over her future and ruined life shattered her mind.
And for Camilla, the devoted mother who cherished her daughter above all else, that desperate cry for salvation echoing from within absolute darkness became a trigger powerful enough to shatter the President’s hypnosis outright.
‘The moment Camilla regains control, she surpasses mere awakening—she completely seizes dominion over the body that hypnosis had bound.’ It was a miracle born solely from a mother’s blind maternal love.
The knight commander, radiating murderous killing intent and swinging an invisible blade the instant she regains control. In the original, the protagonist known as the President was a grandmaster-level monster sometimes called a Hero across the ages, so he could leisurely subdue her furious swordmaster strike and force the mother and daughter into submission once more.
But I possessed no such overwhelming power. Even if this body held the physical ability of an average knight, a direct hit from Camilla’s sword aura would send a fountain of blood spraying from my neck in a single second.
Even if I miraculously survived, the aftermath would essentially be a confirmed bad ending. Camilla, now freed from hypnosis, would take the partially awakened Karin and flee this mansion without a backward glance—just like that ‘certain woman’ who had once miraculously regained her self after being reduced to a doll and escaped.
The author really did craft one hell of a setting.
This was a truth known only to me, not the original protagonist: the Karin collapsed at my feet was none other than the daughter of that escaped woman. It was the core twist of volume two.
If history repeated itself, Camilla—pregnant with my child—and Karin would vanish into some unreachable wilderness, spending the rest of their lives cursing my name. And would the President bother retrieving merchandise that had slipped away? Ha, don’t make me laugh.
The President was a cold-blooded businessman who drew a strict line regarding escaped dolls, labeling it ‘the owner’s negligence.’ He might offer a discount on new orders, but he would never personally retrieve lost goods.
In the end, the only one capable of completely subduing these stubborn knight mother and daughter through raw power and then ruling them with hypnosis was the original protagonist—the President himself.
Which was precisely why they became the main and sub heroines of volume two.
Originally, I had planned to respect the original story’s flow… to subtly adjust the timing of their hypnosis release to coincide with the President’s regular maintenance schedule. I would file complaints about product defects each time they broke free, borrowing his power as compensation to gradually turn the mother and daughter into my own creations. That had been the safest, most rational path for someone without strength.
But the moment I saw the countless dolls orbiting the President at the lavish banquet, desperately craving only his tuning, my thoughts changed completely.
Even if I completed them using his power, in the end these two would become no different from the other dolls who gazed at their creator with blind adoration in that banquet hall.
The dolls’ fanatical worship of the creator who had hypnotized them—something even greater than obedience to their owner. I could never tolerate my perfect possessions displaying such a sight.
The problem was that I lacked the President’s overwhelming hypnotic skill or brute force. Still, their bodies were currently under my complete dominion, trapped inside this sealed room.
With full control over their physical autonomy, only one task remained: to make their arrogant minds crumble on their own and willingly submit to me.
After all, in hypnosis stories, physical domination is merely the appetizer that creates initial stimulation. The real dopamine rush comes from watching seemingly unbreakable reason collapse inch by inch until they beg for their master’s collar… that agonizing mental enslavement.
My accumulated knowledge as a veteran reader of hypnosis tales cooled my mind with cold, sharp precision.
If I lack overwhelming power and magic, then I will use my twisted knowledge and silver tongue to completely reshape the original heroines into my own.
As a reader who loved the hypnosis genre down to his bones, a dark smile spread across my lips—one mixed with intense excitement and fighting spirit.
‘Then, shall we begin?’
I gently pried Camilla from my thigh and issued my first command in a deliberately cold, businesslike tone. This was the opening line of my own gaslighting route—the first words capable of completely derailing the original story’s trajectory, something only I who knew the original could pull off.
“Camilla. Enter the bedroom deeper inside. Prepare perfectly to serve your ‘master’ who will arrive shortly, and wait. Until your master enters, feel free to read any book inside to relieve your boredom if you wish. And do not take a single step outside without your master’s permission.”
“Yes… Understood.”
Camilla’s cheeks flushed. She wore an ecstatic smile as she obediently disappeared into the bedroom.
Click.
The inner bedroom door shut firmly. I swallowed a dark chuckle and lowered my gaze.
There was Karin, frozen like stone from the shock of seeing her mother—now a perfect doll—after her blindfold had slipped. Clever as she was, after hearing the order I had just given Camilla to “prepare to serve her master,” she would have run through countless speculations and misconceptions until reaching one horrifying conclusion.
Heh heh heh. Who would have thought the Count’s arrogant behavior at the banquet—acting as if he were their true owner—would prove so useful?
By now, Karin’s mind was undoubtedly blooming with the firm conviction of the ‘Count mastermind theory’ alongside absolute despair. It was time to pour oil on that spark of misunderstanding and push her into the inescapable swamp of gaslighting.
Swish.
I reached out and completely removed the blindfold covering her eyes. I put on the most solemn and earnest expression I could muster and met her bloodshot gaze.
Then I spoke the keyword I had received in advance from the President—the one that could partially release her suppressed self.
“Karin, how long will you remain in the abyss? Rise from the abyss.”
The moment the sentence left my lips, a lightning-like flash of awareness shot through Karin’s red eyes. At last, full reason and limited physical control had returned to her.
“Ah, aaaaaaaaagh!!”
Karin let out a heart-wrenching scream. As a high-born noble daughter, she would know exactly what kind of hideous devices and purposes were hidden in the most secret annex of a noble mansion. She would have wanted to rush into the bedroom, grab her mother’s hand as she waited for the monstrous ‘master’ to arrive through the secret door, and flee this hellish place.
But the keyword had only released her sense of self and ‘freedom to speak.’ Fundamental control over her body still belonged to me.
She lay sprawled on the cold floor, glaring at me with the face of a cursed beast. Her eyes burned with bone-deep hatred toward the ‘true mastermind Count’ who might open the door at any moment.
I carefully approached her, helped her up, and quickly covered her mouth.
“Shh! Be quiet, Karin…! If those bastards outside hear us, our only chance will vanish and we’re both finished.”
“Mmph, mmph…! You bastard…! How dare you do this to us…!”
I dragged her resisting form into the room beside the one Camilla had entered, quickly shut the door, and locked it.
“Calm down! I’m a victim too. I’ve been thoroughly victimized by them! By my greed-crazed father… and the bizarre hypnotist hiding behind him!”
“……What?”
The fierce resistance from Karin—who had been thrashing to tear me limb from limb the instant she regained control—halted as if someone had flipped a switch. Her red eyes trembled. It was the perfect moment for the sticky spiderweb of the ‘fake savior’ to wrap tightly around the pitiful prey.