Revelations at Cafe Modern Classic

The woman in the suit saw my bewildered expression and looked surprised herself.

"What's up? Something wrong?"

"...Do you know this app?"

The phone I held out was flashing the MC OP main screen. She glanced back and forth between me and the phone, then chuckled as if she'd pieced it together, pointing to a nearby cafe.

"How about we talk inside that cafe first?"

A stylish cafe called CAFE Modern Classic. Nestled in the New Apartment Complex, it was packed even on a weekend afternoon—no empty seats in sight.

"No seats available. Want to try another cafe?"

She seemed to know what MC OP really was, so I asked hurriedly. If she said something like, 'Cafe's full, let's talk later. See you around,' I'd be the one left regretting it. I couldn't let this chance encounter with someone who knew the truth about what I suspected was a hypnosis app slip away.

But she just chuckled at my comment about the full seats and headed to the counter.

"Americano's fine, right? Go find the seat you want and wait there. I'll come to you."

She pulled out a coupon for points, looking completely at ease—like a regular. But had she even heard me? I said it was packed.

I followed her lead anyway and headed to a table deep inside. The couple already sitting there eyed me suspiciously as I hovered nearby, like I was some weirdo.

They glanced around, confirming no empty seats, and said,

"Sorry, we just got here too. No way a seat's opening up soon."

"Ah, yeah..."

God, this is awkward.

I endured their wary stares and waited. Moments later, she approached with a tray holding two coffees.

"What was your name again? Ji-hoon...? That's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But it's too crowded—no seats."

"It's fine, it's fine. I have a 'Free Use Pass' here."

Free Use Pass? What, like at an amusement park?

I watched closely to see what she'd do, but it was simpler than expected. She showed her phone screen to the seated couple and said, "We're using this seat, so leave."

They stared blankly at her screen, then replied, "Got it..." and walked right out.

Was their 'no seats opening soon' line a lie? Nah, no way. I'd glimpsed the MC OP interface on her phone—she'd definitely used its power for something.

Having evicted the couple on a whim, she calmly took their seat.

"Sit. Seat's open now."

She gestured, so I sat across from her. Instead of diving into the main topic, she set her briefcase on the table and rummaged inside, pulling out a cigarette and ashtray.

"Um... what are you doing? No smoking in cafes."

She wasn't planning to smoke indoors, right?

She grinned at me. "Hate cigarette smoke? Yeah, I get it—other people's smoke bugs me too. But cut me some slack. This apartment complex is non-smoking, so this is my only spot."

Before the complex, this cafe was non-smoking—what was she talking about? My baffled stare didn't faze her; she lit up casually.

Acrid smoke spread quickly. No ventilation, so the cafe filled with it in seconds.

"........."

I was ready to deny knowing her if anyone complained. Weirdly, though, no one reacted. The smoke hit their faces, but they ignored it completely.

"Told you—I have the cafe's Free Use Pass. ...Wait, don't tell me you don't remember?"

"Ah, yeah. I don't recall meeting at some client, but... we're not strangers who say stuff like that, right? Did we meet over MC OP?"

"Whoa... you really black out when drunk. We talked for a good while."

"Yeah, I lose the film when I drink. Sorry."

"No biggie... Oh, wait. Then you forgot the app tutorial too? Damn, I explained it forever."

She sighed deeply, stubbed out her cigarette. The lingering scent clung to my nose. Amid the coffee aroma, this smoke smell seemed to separate us from everyone else.

Her 'app tutorial' obviously meant the MC OP on my phone. Casually dropped, but it gave me info: 'MC OP isn't my personal mystery hypnosis app.'

Important? Kinda. Not? Whatever. I mulled it over.

App tutorial? She'd taught me that much? But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it didn't seem that complex—spend points, pick scenarios. Super simple, right?

I waved away the smoke and asked, "This app... I mean MC OP. Does it really need a tutorial? Can't you just use it?"

"You can, but there's ways to spend points efficiently—that's the 'tutorial.' Interface is a mess; some features you miss even if usable."

"Aha."

"You know members only pay points, right? If you're here for 'personal business,' you've tried the app."

"Yeah. Thought it cost money when prices popped up, but just points. And I get the money? How'd you know I came for the app?"

Was I being watched? App GPS? I tensed, waiting.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Not certain. But MC OP members not living here show up for similar reasons—guessed."

She spun her lighter. "Seen how hot and fit everyone in this complex is? All registered 0-tier members—our 'Toys.' MC OP ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moved them here. Easier to group couples for honeymoon scenarios, etc."

Wild, but it clicked. Mi-hye, passersby, cafe folks—all stunning.

She chuckled at my realization, lit another cigarette. Blew smoke blatantly at the next table, clouding their faces.

"Shall I explain the Free Use Pass? Literal—do anything at that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spot. Smoke, grope a stranger's tits. No limits."

She scooted over, fondled the woman's breast—hand inside her clothes, bra pushed aside. Pro moves, not her first time.

"Cafe has MC OP's perception alteration device. They ignore pass holder's weird actions. Don't overthink—just works."

I didn't get the tech, but her calm vibe eased worries about cops.

Still, the big question lingered. I ventured carefully,

"But... can you just share this? Isn't MC OP like a 'hypnosis app'?"

Normally, hypnosis app users hog it solo—sharing kills uniqueness, fan appeal.

She tilted her head, then smiled softly, getting it.

"Hypnosis app? Nah. Heard some perception device makers did similar, but not this. MC OP is... simply put..."

She dropped a bomb.

"Hypnotists' delivery app. Members manage and share hypnotized targets. Like that."

"...So this app doesn't hypnotize?"

She grinned wide, turning her phone screen to me.

I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut before seeing it.

She sounded exasperated. "What're you doing?"

"Y'know, cliche—hypnotizing me with the app. No friendly fire between members."

"...Not that. Just showing for clarity."

Her tone seemed genuine. I peeked.

Stuff I'd never seen using MC OP. I scanned the intriguing list.

"What's this?"

"Sigh, you forgot everything from back then. The tutorial—ways to save points and have fun."

I listened to her guide in the cafe for a while.

"Just hit Quick Use? Why? Everything costs 1 point anyway. Only lasts a day."

Nosy at times, but mostly helpful.

"Set announcer morning call mandatory. No fave? Random, not by name—cheaper points."

Her casual tips added up.

"24/7 taxi? 5 points yearly—waste. Call real ones with cash... whatever, you'll drop it when points run low."

Too breezy—hard to gauge importance—but straightforward.

"Don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠get excited seeing my 38 points. Rare even among members. Maybe 100 nationwide. Entry requirements strict."

I input her recommended monthly subs and my scenario prefs. Permanent settings used under 10% points. Her calling 38 'a lot' meant mine was hefty.

Checked settings.

"Settings look good."

"Great. Gotta go—remembered I need to 'teach' at the nearby pilates."

Her seductive smile screamed not-normal teaching. Suspicious since groping that woman.

Maybe her scene? As she stood, I asked one last thing.

"Why help me this much?"

Key question. No reason for her to spend time.

She pondered—not dodging, deciding depth.

After a beat,

"Said it earlier? MC OP's like a delivery app for hypnotists."

"Yeah."

"Think that way. Hypnotists = restaurant owners. App summons = their dishes. MC OP aggregates, sells to members. They add suggestions too. Hypnotists register for points, buy others'. No obligation—your slaves, your call. Didn't register my pilates boss—mine only. But coaches, clients? All in. Up to you."

Long explanation, but missed the point.

"Uh... so why help me..."

"Listen. Hypnotists vary, right?"

I nodded knowingly. Good call, from her reaction.

"Phew, glad. Feared explaining basics. Traditional ones like you, drug-users like me, psychics, machine-makers. Hate psychics/makers—too easy-mode."

"...And?"

"That's it. Pure hypnotists like you might shun drug-users, but you're my type. Helped kin. Plus, crumbs later... anyway, done. Bye."

She sauntered off. I sat stunned.

Finally grasped MC OP roughly, but...

"...I'm a hypnotist?"