Summoning
The fluorescent light flickered with a sharp zzzt. 2 a.m. The clinical psychology grad student lab. Alone.
"Fuck, this is pathetic."
I tore my eyes from the laptop screen and stared up at the ceiling. In the corner of the lab, the mini-fridge hummed its low drone, and outside, a taxi horn blared paaaang. Sitting alone under the fluorescent light felt so damn pathetic.
At the top of the screen floated the draft of my master's thesis: Modern Applications of Ericksonian Hypnotic Induction Techniques. My advisor had told me to change the topic—hypnosis gets treated like cult shit these days. But I wouldn't budge.
Three years ago, the day I first saw a hypnosis demo is still crystal clear. The subject sat in the chair, eyes closed, and the tension melted from their shoulders like butter. One word, one tone of voice reaching into the depths of someone's mind. I got completely hooked.
Me, Kang Do-hyun. 27 years old. Clinical psychology grad student. Looks aren't bad—decent height for a Korean guy, and the voice I've honed in counseling practice works like a charm on women. I can feel their eyes change every time I do fieldwork. But my real weapon isn't my looks or my dick. It's this brain of mine.
"A man who can read a woman's mind is the scariest thing in the world."
My fingers paused over the keyboard as I muttered to myself. Three empty coffee mugs piled up on the desk, and my eyes burned dry. Half a year of juggling counseling fieldwork three days a week and writing this thesis. Tonight, I was organizing data again. Graphs of subjects' galvanic skin response (GSR) before and after hypnotic induction. The numbers showed a clear difference.
"Hypnosis isn't cult bullshit. It's science."
That conviction was the force chaining me to the lab until dawn.
The fluorescent light flickered again. Longer this time. Zzzt. Zzzzzzt. The fridge shuddered with a loud whirr, cut out, then rumbled back to life with a thud-thud-thud.
"Power's about to go out again."
I grumbled and hit save. Click. The instant the mouse clicked—
Light exploded from the floor in a roaring whoosh. Woooooom. The whole room shook. A deafening low frequency burrowed into my bones, ears ringing. The laptop flew off the desk, the chair toppled with a crash, and my body floated up into the air.
"What the—?!"
My entire field of vision burned white, then consciousness thinned within the light. It felt like my body was disintegrating, or being sucked into the blaze. A second? An hour? Time lost all meaning.
Fuck, hope the thesis saved.
The next instant, I slammed onto cold stone. Thud!
"Urk…!"
I hit back-first. Air whooshed from my lungs, and I hacked and coughed. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth—I must've bitten my tongue. Fucking hurts.
Cold stone pressed into my back, acrid smoke stung my nose. Somewhere, people murmured in a language that wasn't Korean, but I understood it perfectly. Like having a simultaneous interpreter plugged in.
"Success! The summoning circle worked!"
"Five… five of them came!"
"Check the mana residue! Maintain the circle's stability!"
Swallowing a groan, I pushed myself up. Every muscle ached like I'd been through a washing machine. A massive circular hall. Jaw-dropping scale. The ceiling soared impossibly high, adorned with golden mosaics of constellations. Cyan magical flames crackled along the pillars. The floor bore intricate geometric patterns, fading sparks flickering out between the lines. The air reeked of ozone.
On that pattern lay five bodies, including mine.
"Where… is this?"
A woman's voice from beside me. Same age range, short bob haircut, big eyes. Scared expression, but sharp eyes assessing the situation. Oh. Nice. Lips pressed tight, scanning fast. Not the panicking type.
"You Korean too?"
"…Yes. Ha Eun-seo. What the hell is going on?"
"No idea. Kang Do-hyun."
I lowered my tone, kept it steady. In a situation like this, the calm guy earns trust.
"Mr. Kang… any idea where we are?"
"Dunno. Stone room. Torches. People in robes."
"…You serious?"
"Something even weirder, actually."
"This isn't a dream, right?"
"If it is, we're sharing it."
Eun-seo let out a small pfft of laughter, tension cracking her lips. Damn, she's pretty.
The other three groaned to their feet one by one. All Koreans. First up was the burly guy, solid build like ex-military, barking, "Where the fuck are we?" Next, the skinny glasses guy, hands shaking as he adjusted his frames but mouth clamped shut. Last, the woman clutching her head, staggering with "My head…"
All five in our mid-to-late twenties, early thirties. All Korean. No coincidence. There must be criteria for the summoning.
A group approached from one side of the hall, footsteps echoing. Leading was a white-haired old man with a long staff. Behind him, knights in clanking armor. And—
One woman. Golden curls cascading past her shoulders to her back. A tight crimson dress that did nothing to hide her ripe curves. I knew at a glance. Not just pretty. The leisure of age. Mature beauty. Overwhelming sensuality radiating from every inch that no girl my age could match. The crimson fabric strained taut, cleavage sharp even through the cloth. Slim waist flowing into those hips—fuuuck.
Her walk was something else. Click. Click. Click. Each heel strike screamed confidence. Back straight, chin slightly raised, gaze forward but overlooking everything. The stride of someone at the pinnacle of power for decades.
Violet eyes. Cool, yet lazily languid. Unlike any of the hundreds I'd seen in sessions. Eyes that knew the world and found it boring. Wonder what face she'd make at night.
"Archmage."
She spoke. Low, chilling voice. Toned like aged wine.
"Is this the result of the hero summoning?"
The white-haired old man bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty the Queen Consort. In response to the crisis on the Belcross Continent, we have summoned five heroes from another world."
"All five are otherworlders?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Chosen by the summoning circle."
"Their condition?"
"No threat to their lives. Merely temporary disorientation from the shock."
Queen Consort, huh. The title fit her dignity. But the sensuality clashed deliciously with it. Those full tits, that cinched waist, those lush hips. Even through the dress, the curves boasted this otherworld MILF's majesty.
Where's the king? I read the faces around her. Knights expectant, mages barely hiding excitement. But different flavors—knights hoped for 'strong warriors,' mages saw 'research subjects.' The queen consort's face held cold appraisal. Like a merchant checking a horse's teeth. Useful or not. That's all her eyes cared about.
She's the one holding the reins here.
Even the Archmage and knight captain watched her cues. No king in sight. She made the final calls. Good. Target her, and I survive this world.
The burly guy blurted out, "Hey! Where are we? Why are we here?!"
A knight stepped forward, hand on sword, but she raised a hand slightly. He froze instantly. Perfect command. The moment a woman like that loses control in bed… hottest thing ever.
"Rise, heroes."
Commanding yet elegant, an tone impossible to refuse.
"Wherever you came from, this is your world now. Tomorrow morning, your skills will be granted."
"Skills?"
Eun-seo murmured softly, but the queen consort was already turning away. Golden curls swayed, dress rippled. Even from behind, the side-swell of her tits was visible.
The knights moved in unison, forming ranks around us and guiding us down a corridor.
"This way, heroes."
I observed as we walked. Tapestries of battle scenes on stone walls, moonlit gardens visible through windows. Leaves shimmering silver, floral scents drifting in. The air here was different. Crisp, cool, faintly sweet.
Eun-seo sidled closer, whispering.
"This… feels real."
"What makes you say that?"
"The air's different. And look at the moons."
She pointed out the corridor window. Two moons hung in the sky. One large and blue-tinged, one small and red.
"…Two moons."
"Believe it now?"
"Don't wanna, but have to."
"Do-hyun, you scared?"
"What good would that do? Can't just collapse here."
"True… but you're too calm. It's weird."
"Just the surface. Inside, I can't breathe."
Eun-seo gave a small laugh.
Ahead, the queen consort's back. Golden hair swaying, mature curves sharp under the dress. Hips shifting subtly side to side with each step. Striding boldly through the knights, more imposing—and hotter—than any of them.
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
The room was spacious. Torches crackled on stone walls, wooden furniture rough but sturdy. Furs on the bed, fruits and water on the table. Two moons outside the window.
Blue moonlight seeped in, bathing everything in dreamlike hues.
I stood at the window, gazing up.
This isn't Earth.
Logic rebelled, but my senses had accepted it. Air's texture, subtle gravity shift, wind's temperature on skin. All slightly off. And above all, that queen consort's allure. Beyond anything on Earth.
Recap: Medieval Europe-like civ with magic. Monarchy, but queen consort holds real power. 'Hero summoning' due to 'crisis.' Tomorrow's 'skills' decide survival.
"Skills tomorrow… wonder what I'll get."
The burly guy's mutter carried through the thin wall from next door.
"Swordsmanship would be good. Nah, magic's better?"
"Shut up and sleep."
"How? We're in who-knows-where."
"Sleep or not, tomorrow we'll know."
Burly excited, glasses terrified—neither sleeping. What if I get a useless skill? Cold sweat down my back. Her eyes flashed in my mind. Tool-appraising eyes. Useless tools get discarded—or worse. Best case: ignored. Worst: executed. Can't die pathetically here after thesis grinding on Earth.
I sat in the chair instead of bed, organizing thoughts. Creeeak. Otherworld chairs creak too.
Whatever skill, I'll survive. There's a way. Always.
Deep breath. Whoosh. Observation from psych, hypnosis techniques, and this dick. Three weapons to conquer this world.
"I'll survive. No doubt."
Leaning on the sill, I inhaled this strange world's air. Unfamiliar flowers mixed with ancient stone. A bell tolled dong from a distant palace spire.
How do clocks work here? Days and nights seem Earth-like, but everything's slightly off-kilter.
Everything's a tool.
Hypnosis is my only weapon until skills. Ericksonian indirect suggestion, rapport-building, microexpression reading, gaze fixation. Techniques I'd cataloged for my thesis—unknown here, probably.
If my skill's mental-type, not combat? Worst case, but unique card no one else has.
Crisis is opportunity's twin. Counseling staple. Fits now perfectly.
Eun-seo's face surfaced. Calm eyes. That small smile. Five Koreans together? Not random. Mid-to-late 20s, all Korean speakers. Criteria exist. Crack that, and I glimpse this world's rules.
Light footsteps in the hall—knight patrol. Clink clink. Armor faded away.
The moons dipped. Blue first, red following. A bird outside sang long and clear. Sweeeeeet. Otherworld dawn chorus, unlike Earth's.
I'll have that queen consort under me. No question.
First night in another world. The night my life's goal took shape.