Han Mi-na's Skill Was Hypnosis? Why Didn't It Work on Him?

Han Mi-na screamed internally as she stared at the man in front of her, who showed no reaction whatsoever. It was bizarre. Normally, anyone caught in her hypnosis would obey her words without question. That was the reason the timid girl had become a celebrity. That was why she wasn't ignored at the academy. And yet, this man who had picked up her precious treasure wasn't reacting to her skill at all.

Why? Did I mess up somehow? Did I forget to activate the app?

No, I definitely turned it on.

Points had been deducted too. Giving commands to others drained a ton of energy— a whopping 10 points for something as simple as handing over a bracelet. The points were gone, but it hadn't worked. And then he had the nerve to ask to see her face. The moment he said those words—the ones she dreaded most—her head spun.

The top celebrity and singer, Korea's icon of the entertainment world, the star among stars... If it got out that Han Mi-na was actually a shut-in hikikomori who couldn't even speak properly without hypnosis... No. Absolutely not. Everything she'd built up until now would crumble. People would be shocked, reporters would swarm to tear into her true self. Countless articles would flood the portals, followed by unspeakable malicious comments. She'd be dragged back to that miserable past—her school days of being mocked and bullied by everyone...

I can't let that happen!

It was the happiness she'd finally achieved. Now she was loved. She didn't want to go back to how things were. But she couldn't just leave the bracelet either.

"Ughhh..."

She looked at the man who'd found her bracelet. Not exactly handsome, but decent-looking with a tall frame. His piercing gaze showed no sign he knew her—it didn't seem like a stalker's deliberate pursuit. He didn't look suspicious.

Aside from the hypnosis not working...

If hypnosis didn't work, maybe she could persuade him with words? But how? She, who needed to steel herself just to buy something at a convenience store?

"Huff, huff."

Just imagining talking to him made her breathing ragged. Dizziness hit. Her head swam. W-what do I do?

***

She was extremely suspicious. Not content with a mask covering half her face, she wore oversized sunglasses too.

"Huff, huff."

A woman breathing heavily, claiming to be the owner of the lost bracelet. Her appearance was so shady I almost called the cops. And then she tried some kind of mental attack out of nowhere—definitely not someone with a sound mind.

"Th-that bracelet is m-mine. So p-please give it back."

"So you're the one I bumped into yesterday?"

"Y-yes!"

"Hmm..."

Her excessively timid speech made it seem like she really was the one from yesterday. But honestly, this bracelet was worth hundreds of thousands of won—I couldn't just hand it over easily. If I gave a lost item to the wrong person, it'd be on me. At least confirm faces or something.

She'd lower the mask a bit and claim it was hers, so I could give it then. No rush.

"Just show me your face a little."

"M-my f-face?"

"Yeah. No need to take off the sunglasses—just pull down the mask and show your lower face. I saw it that day."

"L-lower face... I'm really shy about my face."

"Then I can't give it. Sorry. I left it with the part-timer..."

"W-wait! I-I'll do it! Ugh!"

She was so flustered she bit her tongue.

"S-so just the chin is fine, right?"

"...Yeah, sure. Just flash the lower face roughly. If you hate showing it that much."

I had the eyes for it.

"Ughhh..."

Why was she so panicked over showing her face? Like she'd smeared treasure on it or something. She wasn't some famous celebrity, after all. Even if she was.

What's the big deal about showing it?

She bit her lip, at a loss, then pointed down the alley.

"L-let's go over there."

"The alley?"

"Y-yes. I'll show you there."

Even more suspicious. With her history of trying that mental attack, I was wary.

"If you promise not to shove that phone in my face again, I'll follow."

"O-okay. Hurry."

Even if she tried something, I doubted she'd land it. No suspicious presences nearby either.

"Alright."

I followed the shady woman without protest.

"Huff, huff."

Her breathing grew rougher. Not some pervert trap, right?

Doesn't seem like a Barbie girl type...

Fog built on her sunglasses from the heavy breaths. I pondered countermeasures—like if she suddenly turned and stripped— as we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entered the alley.

"W-wait here a sec."

The woman took a deep breath. Clenching her fists like she'd made a big decision, she lifted her mask just a bit. Really just the chin.

"...Lift it a little more. FBI couldn't ID you like that."

"U-ugh. But..."

"It's not gold-plated. Just show it quick and we're done. I wanna get home too."

"O-okay. One sec."

She lifted it a bit more. A slender white chin topped by plump pink lower lips. Cherry-shiny lips and pale skin screamed beauty even from that.

Not a Barbie girl. A woman like this would've made headlines already.

Overly self-conscious about her looks, maybe.

Could be severe agoraphobia. Or trauma from her beauty causing trouble. She had a story, probably.

But one thing was clear.

"Yeah, it's you. The one I bumped into yesterday."

Familiar lower face. The woman from yesterday.

"U-ugh. Good? N-now give it q-quick. The bracelet."

"...Here."

I handed her the bracelet. She snatched it like an eagle grabbing prey and hurriedly clasped it on her wrist.

"Phew."

Finally, a sigh of relief.

"Th-thank you."

"No big deal."

She bowed deeply.

"Looks precious—keep better track so you don't lose it again."

"Y-yes. Oh! Um!"

"Yeah?"

"That... Could I get your number maybe?"

"My number?"

"Yeah. Feels bad just letting you go after you helped. No wallet for reward right now."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. Wasn't for money."

She bit her lip at my words.

"B-but letting you go after help like this..."

"Then pull out your phone."

"W-wait... Uh, huh?"

"That wasn't your phone earlier?"

"N-no, that was... Wait, it's not actually a phone... I mean..."

She paled, floundering. Whatever her story, she clearly didn't want to share her number.

It looked like a phone to anyone.

"Hang on then."

I bought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a pen from the convenience store.

"Hand."

"M-my hand?"

"Yeah."

She obediently extended her wrist. I grabbed it.

"Eek! W-wait!"

"Hold still. Quick."

I uncapped the pen and wrote my number on the back of her hand.

"Nngh, it tickles..."

I held her fist-closing hand steady and finished writing.

"No paper, so here. Call this later."

"Got it."

"Just send 10,000 won. No more, no less."

"Okay."

"Then we part with good memories. Take care."

"Th-thank you! Really grateful."

She cradled the bracelet with her free hand, bowing thanks. But I focused on the system window before me.

Han Mi-na? That celebrity Han Mi-na's skill was Hypnosis?

***

He was a strange guy. When he asked to see her face, she thought maybe he recognized her from TV. But no. Nodding after just a glimpse of chin and lips—he really just wanted to confirm.

He hadn't figured out she was the celebrity Han Mi-na. Otherwise, he'd have lunged.

Some might call it over-self-consciousness, but Han Mi-na was confident. If she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanted, any man would fall for her. She just never tried, thanks to her extreme loner tendencies.

The star everyone admired, yet untouchable. That was celebrity Han Mi-na.

Repaying help was obvious—especially for the man who'd returned her life's most vital treasure. Plus, he was immune to her sole weapon: hypnosis.

Truth be told, asking for his number was more about the latter. She couldn't just let him go. Curiosity, and hope he might be a clue to advancing her stagnant ability.

So she asked for his number. His ignorance of her made her bolder.

Problem: She'd held her "phone" to hypnotize him. She panicked late, but muddled through. He seemed to get it and let it slide.

Anyway, she got his number.

But.

"Ughhh... His hand was huge..."

She hadn't expected him to grab her wrist and write on her hand.

Thump-thump-thump.

Han Mi-na, 22. First physical contact with a man, due to her extreme shyness. Her girl heart raced wildly at the unexpected first.

Her eyes glued to the number on her hand.

***

"This the place?"

Lee Kang-san's sister Lee Hye-ri's house. Having smoothly wrapped negotiations with Daesung, Marcson Porter whistled and rang the doorbell.

Time for the real work.

Find out who that tutor stuck to Hye-ri is.

Request from Saint Guild colleague and friend Lee Kang-san. Couldn't brush off a friend's ask.

"Who is it... Huh? Marcson oppa?"

"Hey! Long time!"

Warm voice. More mature than three years ago. Marcson waved at the intercom.

"One sec."

Rustling sounds, intercom off. Quite a wait before the door opened.

Click.

Door swung wide. Fresh from workout? Sweat beaded on her forehead. Baggy clothes clashing with her athletic wear.

"What's up?"

"Your bro sent me. To find out who your tutor is."

Her eyes narrowed. Marcson ignored it, stepping inside.

Intimidating house as expected. Vast living room like a practice hall. Lee Kang-san designed it—clear these siblings were practice maniacs.

"Oppa told you?"

"Yeah. Can't even describe how much he worries. Threatened to kill me if I didn't come."

"...He still doesn't trust me?"

"Not that. Hates wasting your dealer talent."

"Same thing. Means I can't be a tank."

"Haha, most think that."

She shook her head at his words.

"No. Not everyone."

Unbreakable bamboo conviction. Marcson shut up. Stubborn like siblings.

"That tutor thinks you can tank?"

"Yes. Training me for it."

"No weird stuff?"

She hesitated, then shook head.

"Nothing. Just diligent practice. Not what you think."

"Hmm... Mind if I observe a lesson?"

"Huh?"

"Observe. As oppa's friend, qualified, right?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

Hurtful. Long-known dongsaeng rejecting flat-out.

"R-really?"

"Yes! No way."

"Hmm, okay. How about a test instead?"

"Test?"

"Yeah. You said he sees tank potential. I wanna check too."

She pondered, nodded.

"Fine. But confirm my growth and drop the investigation."

"Deal."

Marcson grinned, grabbing practice sword from living room. Assumed stance.

"Ready. Coming in."

Spar began.

***

Absolutely not! How could she show her training to others? That shameful sight wasn't for sharing.

Rejected, so Marcson requested spar. Typical him—fight-obsessed, hot-blooded, flips on whims if it suits.

Prove here, he'd back off. Gritting teeth, she gripped spear.

Just practicing Cheonryu Spear Technique on C-rank practice bot. Now deflecting its attacks. Kim Siu elevated techniques she couldn't grasp. Still, just C-rank—far from real combat. She'd doubted.

Perfect timing: Marcson arrives. Ideal pre-lesson guinea pig.

Spar started. S-rank hunter vs. first-year cadet. Obvious outcome.

Not about beating him.

Pop! Thwack! Whoosh!

Hye-ri dodged nimbly, evading Marcson's aggressive strikes.

"Hye-ri, what's the difference from a dealer dodging?!"

"Shut up!"

Worlds apart from bot. Speed, ferocity incomparable. No openings. Felt like facing her teacher Kim Siu.

S-rank pressure. Teacher must be amazing.

Even now, that thought.

"Kahaha! Real tank talent?"

Ignoring taunts, focused. Eyes tracked his attacks long.

Breath ragged, stamina draining, dodging and parrying.

Then, split-second.

I see it.

Path of thrusting sword visible. Cheonryu form recalled, body moved.

Spear softly swept sword's flat aimed at chest. Trajectory shifted.

Spear guided sword outward.

Shunk!

Sword veered fully aside. Hye-ri wouldn't miss the gap.

Thrust spear fast—but.

"Well, well?"

"Huh?"

Marcson dual-wields. Sword from other hand aimed at her throat. Faster than her aim at his.

"Haa, haa."

"...Not bad."

Marcson won. Hye-ri dropped spear, collapsed gasping. Marcson casual.

Not smiling at her. Stunned, stared at hand, asked.

"What was that? Deflected my attack?"

"Pr-practice results. Haa, haa. Makes me a tank."

"By deflecting?"

"Yes."

"...Pfft, hahaha, kahahaha!"

Staring blankly, then house-shaking laugh.

"That's your teacher's method?"

"Yes."

"Got properly owned. Deflecting tank... Aggro by shoving in DPS?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

He smirked.

"Basic evasion tank tactic. How wouldn't I?"

"Oh, right."

"Teacher's name? Address? Number?"

"You saw. I proved..."

"Yeah. He's legit. Curious how a tutor thinks that."

"No weird stuff?"

"Obviously! Think I only do weird shit?"

"You did before—beat innocent guy."

"Hey, not this time."

"Promise?"

"Yes. Name."

Marcson's face looked dangerous. Pre-trouble grin.

"Not telling."

"Hey, really? I'll tell Kang-san weird guy's attached."

"Do it. Better if Kang-san oppa comes himself. See my change."

"C'mon, tell."

"No!"

Hye-ri shooed sticky Marcson out.

"Hye-ri! Don't ditch me outside. Nowhere to crash."

***

Back home, text from Hye-ri.

Marcson?

Saint Guild's Marcson Porter coming? Faster than expected.

Soon after.

Thud thud.

"Who is it?"

Unfamiliar Korean from foreigner. Here he comes. Mad dog Marcson.