Chapter 2 — Trash Skill
As soon as morning broke, knights pounded on the door to my room.
"Rise and shine. We've prepared water for washing and clothes for you."
It was traditional attire from this world: a white linen shirt with a brown vest and cotton pants. Surprisingly comfortable once I put them on. The fabric felt coarser than Earth's cotton, yet soft against the skin.
No panties, huh. I went commando. Not the time to worry about underwear in another world.
A knight led me down the corridor. My shoes clicked against the stone floor—clack, clack. The other summoned heroes joined one by one, their faces tense. Only the burly guy kept clenching and unclenching his fists, his expression brimming with anticipation.
Ha Eun-seo fell into step beside me.
"Sleep well?"
"Not really. You?"
"Me neither. I still can't get used to there being two moons."
"Same here."
"What do you think you'll get, Do-hyun? A skill, I mean."
"Who knows. Hope it's something good."
"I'm scared. What if it's useless?"
"We're in this together. If anything happens, we'll handle it together."
Eun-seo nodded. Classic anxious attachment style—seeking comfort in a familiar face amid the unfamiliar. The way she leaned toward me, the expectant look in her eyes. She'd already slotted me as her "safe person."
Bam! The massive double doors swung open.
A grand hall stretched before us, its ceiling at least ten meters high. Morning sunlight poured through stained-glass windows, scattering red, blue, and gold light across the floor like a kaleidoscope. Nobles lined both sides in opulent finery: silk embroidered with gold thread, gemstone adornments, feathered hats.
On the throne at the far end sat a gaunt man—the King. His face was sickly pale, dark shadows under his eyes. He coughed intermittently—cough, cough—and an attendant swiftly pressed a handkerchief to his mouth. The illness looked advanced.
I observed the king. His robes hung loose on a frame that had once been robust but now wasted away. His grip on the throne's armrest lacked strength. His presence felt faint, like a man who couldn't satisfy his wife.
Beside him, Queen Consort Elena, even more resplendent in crimson than yesterday. Her dress plunged deep at the neckline, accentuating her mature curves. Look at those tits. Even through the fabric, their volume was unmistakable. Sunlight from the stained glass poured between her cleavage, almost holy.
Golden curls crowned with a delicate tiara, ruby earrings swaying from her lobes. Down, boy. This was a skill-bestowal ceremony—pop a boner, and it was over. No underwear meant tenting those pants would be a death sentence.
The queen's eyes swept over us summoners, the same appraising gaze as yesterday. Today, it held a hint of expectation. What weapon will fall into my hands?
I read the dynamics among the nobles too. The military faction on the left brimmed with anticipation; the civil officials on the right wore more complex expressions. And in the front row, a middle-aged man in a league of his own: black coat with silver embroidery, jeweled dagger. He nodded to the queen, who returned the slightest incline of her head.
This country's real power lies with that woman. And that man is her key retainer. Their bond seemed more political than sexual. Good. Her bed was still vacant.
"Heroes, step forward," the Archmage called.
We five advanced to the hall's center. One by one, we stood on the intricate magic circle etched into the floor. The Archmage began chanting a lengthy incantation.
Hummm— Blue light bloomed from his staff's tip, stretching to the ceiling. The circle's runes crackled to life one by one. A warm energy rose from the ground—ticklish, soothing, strange. It flowed through my veins to my fingertips and toes. My heart pounded faster.
But something felt off. The magic didn't stop at my head. Heat coursed down my spine to pool in my lower abdomen with a low thrum.
My dick's getting hot? It was burning—not figuratively. The energy concentrated there. The magic was reshaping my body too.
My shoulders broadened. Back muscles tightened. Pecs swelled thicker. My clothes suddenly fit snug—seams straining at the shoulders, sleeves hugging my biceps. I flexed my arm. Biceps noticeably bulkier. Not the slouched grad student's body from hunching over a desk writing papers.
My viewpoint had risen too—a full handspan higher. Not an illusion; even the Archmage looked shorter. I'd actually grown taller.
Otherworld adjustment. Not just mental powers—full physical rebuild. No idiot in an RPG maxes intelligence and leaves strength at zero. This world granted summoners complete specs.
Name: Kang Do-hyun
Skill:Mental Interference Lv.1 — Whisper
Effect: Subtly influences the target's emotions.
Range: Contact or close proximity (within 3m)
Duration: Temporary
Limitations: Minimal effect on those with strong wills
Mental Interference. My heart sank.
Not a combat skill. The worst-case scenario I'd imagined last night. Non-combat type. And with "subtle influence," "temporary," "minimal on strong wills." The drawbacks outnumbered the perks.
Of all things, this?
Wait. Calm down. Mental interference... influencing emotions? My clinical psychology brain kicked into overdrive.
Influencing emotions included sexual desire, right? Pussy getting wet was an emotional response too. So then—
A cheer cut my thoughts short from beside me.
"Flame Sword! Jackpot!"
The burly guy—Tae-hyun—ignited flames in his hand. Whoosh! Gasps rippled through the nobles. The military faction beamed.
"I've got Absolute Defense!"
Another guy summoned a translucent shield over his arm. The Archmage test-fired a magic bolt—pop!—and it bounced off.
"Hand of Healing... I can heal wounds!"
The female summoner pressed a glowing hand to a scrape on her arm; it vanished smoothly. The nobles applauded.
"I've got Time Stop... freezes time for three seconds," Ha Eun-seo murmured.
Dust motes hung frozen midair during her cast, then resumed. The nobles buzzed.
"Time magic?"
"Isn't that legendary-tier?"
Excitement built with each reveal: Flame Sword, Absolute Defense, healing, time stop. All powerful, flashy skills.
And last: me.
The Archmage read my result, bewilderment in his voice.
"Fifth summoner. Skill... Mental Interference Lv.1."
The hall fell deathly silent.
One second. Two. Three.
Then murmurs erupted.
"Mental interference...?"
"Mind-type skill?"
"Isn't that taboo magic?"
"Like the Mental Emperor..."
The Archmage's face hardened. Unease flickered across the nobles. Joy flipped to dread in seconds.
Clank. Knights' hands went to their swords. Metal rasped from scabbards.
Three hundred years ago, one man terrorized the continent with mind magic alone: Baltor, the Mental Emperor. He puppeteered hundreds of thousands, knelt kings. History's worst mage. Mind magic became taboo thereafter—users executed on discovery.
Cold sweat trickled down my back. My balls shrank. But I kept my face neutral.
In a crisis, if the therapist cracks first, so does the client. Basic counseling principle. Panic from me would turn their unease to terror, terror to violence.
Stoic. Harmless. Mildly disappointed, at most.
"Quiet."
Snap. One word silenced the hall. Elena.
The queen consort descended the throne and approached me. Clack, clack. Nobles parted like a sea. With each step, her scent thickened—floral wine.
Up close, she was overwhelming. Slightly shorter than me, but her presence dwarfed mine. Violet eyes bored into me. Those tits at this range? Art. But ogling now meant decapitation. I met her gaze steadily.
Cold purple irises, swirling with disappointment, wariness... and the faintest curiosity.
"Mental Interference Level 1."
She sized me up like a merchant appraising goods.
"Demonstrate."
"...On whom?"
"Anyone. One of the knights."
An order. I activated Whisper. Target: a nearby knight. Using it on her would've been provocation.
Focus inward: Relax.
A faint ripple spread. The knight's expression softened—tension easing from his eyes, shoulders dropping. His sword hand loosened.
That was it. He tilted his head moments later.
"...Did I doze off?"
Two, three seconds, and he was back to normal. Nobles sighed in disappointment.
"That's it?"
"Is that really taboo magic?"
Elena's eyes narrowed.
"Is that all?"
"...Yes."
Silence descended, courtroom-heavy.
She turned. In that instant, I caught her lips moving soundlessly: Trash.
Trash, huh. Fine. I'd make those pretty lips say different things later.
A stab of humiliation hit my chest, but I compartmentalized it. Retrieve it later—with interest.
The queen addressed the nobles.
"Assign the four heroes to the Hero Hall in the palace. Provide the finest training and accommodations."
Four. Not five. Eyes turned to me—pity, contempt, relief. Glad that's not me. Humanity's ugliest emotion.
"The fifth..."
She paused.
"Assign to the Annex. Stand by until we decide how to use him."
The Annex. Palace outskirts—servants' quarters and storage.
I bowed wordlessly. Resistance was pointless. This isolation might even favor me. Out of sight meant freedom.
As the others followed knights to lavish corridors, Eun-seo glanced back, worried.
"Do-hyun..."
"I'm fine. Go ahead."
"You sure?"
"No need to worry about me. I'll be okay."
I smiled—naturally as possible. She hesitated, then followed, looking back repeatedly. Clack, clack. Footsteps faded.
The hall emptied, leaving me alone. Stained-glass light patterned the vacant floor.
I reopened the status window.
Mental Interference Lv.1. Whisper. Subtle emotional influence. Temporary. Minimal on strong wills.
Honestly, useless in combat. Whisper "relax" to an enemy on the battlefield? They'd yawn for two seconds and swing again.
But I was a psychologist.
Influences emotions... This world's people didn't grasp its terror. They only knew fire and shields as power.
Actions stem from emotions. Anxiety clouds judgment; affinity lowers guards. Trust spills secrets; desire breaks taboos.
And lust is an emotion.
No modern psychology here.
Hypnotic induction, cognitive reframing, NLP, anchoring, rapport-building, cognitive dissonance, selective reinforcement, indirect suggestion, microexpression reading. Techniques I'd crammed all night in the lab. Applied to hundreds of clients.
Knowledge this world lacked.
Combine magical Mental Interference with scientific psychology? Even Lv.1's subtlety becomes precise, yielding wildly different results.
A dull scalpel? Aim right, and it severs an artery.
Trash skill?
I laughed alone in the empty throne room. Echoes bounced off the high ceiling.
"We'll see about that."
My dick twitched. The shrunken thing perked up again. This cock's optimistic. Neck on the block moments ago, and already recovered.
Thump-thump. Heart racing—not fear, excitement.
Steps turned toward the Annex. My footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.
Just before exiting the throne room, a quiet voice from behind.
"Summoner."
A civil official noble stood beside me, pretending to pass. Lean middle-aged man. Avoided direct eye contact but spoke.
"May I offer a word of advice?"
"...Please."
"Keep a low profile in the Annex. For now."
"Why offer that?"
"The moment 'Mental Emperor' was uttered, more than half wanted you dead. Her Majesty's choice of confinement over execution makes you lucky."
He slipped back into the crowd.
I replayed the exchange mentally.
Factions in this kingdom still fear the Mental Emperor's name. And whether they align with the queen is unclear.
Perfect start. Fragile power structure. Nobles watching each other. An outsider with an incomprehensible skill.
Psychology thrives in chaos.
Otherworld MILF hunting begins.