Experiment

Day three since the summoning. I've already adapted to life in the Annex.

I wake ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up in the morning and study this world's history and magic in the study. In the afternoons, I wander the Capital City for observation. I get bread and watery soup from the first-floor communal dining hall. The servants stare at me with curious eyes but don't speak. Seems the "mental-type summoner" label scares them off.

Works for me. No noisy idiots bothering me.

I'm tearing into bread in the corner of the dining hall when a maid approaches cautiously.

"Um, sir... do you need more food?"

"Ah, yes. I'd be grateful for just one more piece."

"I'll slip it to you quietly. Don't mind the others."

"...Thank you."

She looks over thirty. Her ample breasts rise and fall with every breath under her apron. This lady's the nurturing type—dispensing kindness despite my scary summoner tag. Strong maternal instincts. Worth noting.

I need to classify what kinds of people are susceptible to Mental Interference Lv.1 - Whisper, which influences emotions.

Time to experiment in the Capital City this afternoon.

After eating, I head to the study. Maybe thanks to last night's self-hypnosis training, my focus feels sharper. Page-turning speed is noticeably 1.5 times faster.

Today, I read An Introduction to the Races of the Belcross Continent. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Humans, elves, beastkin, dwarves, demonkin. Five races divide the continent.

I pause at the elf chapter.

Elves have long lifespans, leading to high mental maturity and intense emotional amplitude. Their physical aging is extremely slow; most retain the appearance of a human in their twenties or thirties even after centuries.

...What? Looks twenties or thirties but actually centuries old? Perfect milf material.

I jot a note: 'Elves: High emotional amplitude → potentially vulnerable to Whisper. Appearance vs. actual age mismatch → need to reset milf criteria.'

Flip to the beastkin chapter.

Beastkin possess wild instincts that serve as a natural mental barrier. They have innate resistance to mental magic, but this resistance drops sharply when emotions are extremely heightened.

Oh ho. 'Extreme emotional high = resistance down.' Info I can use on Ka ira.

Anger, fear... or sexual arousal. Means a beastkin woman in heat has crumbling mental defenses.

No idea what the balance designer was thinking, but it's a gift for me.

I think about Ka ira. I sketch her behavior patterns in the notebook margin. She's my "surveillance," but shows up once or twice a day at most. Just checks if I'm "still alive?" and leaves. Figures I "can't do shit anyway." That judgment gives me freedom.

After lunch, I leave the palace. I tell the gate guard, "Her Majesty the Queen Consort permitted a stroll in the Capital City." Total lie. I slip in a touch of Whisper: 'This guy's no problem.'

Shrr.

The guard nods and opens the gate.

Too damn easy.

I walk the Capital City's market. Noisy clamor, fresh-baked bread scent, smithy iron tang—all assaulting my nose at once.

Stop at a fruit stall. Red fruits, purple, gold. Unknown on Earth, but the sweet aroma is killer.

"How much for these?"

"Five coppers."

Plump middle-aged guy with a mustache, apron stained with juice. I smile, lock eyes. Soft gaze, slight head tilt, lip curl. Basic rapport-building from clinical practice.

Then, inwardly activate Whisper: 'I like this customer.'

Shrr.

A faint heat drains from my forehead. The merchant's expression softens—muscles around his eyes relax. He looks at me again and suddenly laughs.

"New face, huh? New adventurer? Eh, feels too pricey. Three coppers."

"Thank you."

"Can't gouge newcomers. Come back anytime."

"Definitely will."

Way too easy. Analyzing as I take the fruit: 'Influences emotions. Can boost affinity. But only nudges existing feelings.'

Merchants naturally want to be nice to customers. Whisper just amps that volume a bit. If he hated me, affinity boost wouldn't stick.

Can't create nonexistent emotions. But amplify what's there? Yes.

'Matches basic hypnosis principles.'

Ericksonian hypnosis. Indirect suggestion. "Hypnosis doesn't create from nothing—it awakens what's already inside." Erickson's words.

If a woman has even a speck of "I want to fuck this guy," I can amplify it. Ultimate milf-hunting weapon.

I spend the day roaming the Capital City, repeating experiments.

Next: guard. Young guy at the south gate, spear in hand, fighting drooping eyelids in the afternoon sun.

'Sleepy. Okay to close eyes a bit.'

Shrr.

Whisper hits. He yawns hugely. Aaaah. But shakes his head, straightens up. Doesn't sleep. Duty holds him back.

Record: 'Sleep induction. Partial success. Amplifies existing drowsiness but duty blocks full sleep.'

Bakery front. Plump auntie arranging display. I make my stomach growl loudly while eyeing the bread.

"You look hungry."

"Ah, no. Just the smell's too good."

Smile and Whisper: 'This young man's pitiful. Hasn't eaten.'

Shrr.

"Eh, take one."

"Really?"

"Young man shouldn't starve. Best batch today."

"Thanks, ma'am."

Maternal instinct. Would've dug deeper in other scenarios.

Record: 'Pity induction. Success. Effective on strong maternal types.'

Weapons dealer: Tried "trust." Asked magic weapon prices; he held back at first. But Whisper with 'This guy's trustworthy' and he spills, voice low.

"Low-grade magic sword's fifty gold, mid-grade two hundred up. Prices up lately from southern front..."

"Southern front bad?"

"Bad. Demonkin hit borders three times this year. Palace didn't summon heroes for nothing."

Eye lock plus low tone worked.

Record: 'Trust induction. Success. Bonus: southern front intel.'

Final experiment: Ka ira.

Evening, back at the Annex. Ka ira's waiting in the hall, back to wall, arms crossed, golden eyes on me.

"Where you been."

"Market sightseeing."

"Permission?"

"Checked with guards."

"Hmph."

I casually trigger Whisper: 'Relaxed. Safe to let guard down here.'

Shrr.

Ka ira's panther ears perk. Sniffs. Eyes narrow.

"That smell again."

Fail. Beastkin nose detects Whisper's magic waves. Damn panther senses.

"What smell?"

"Don't play dumb."

"I didn't do anything."

"What were you trying? Try again, I cut your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠throat."

Her tail bristles straight. Full alert. Golden slit pupils like a predator spotting prey.

"No clue what you did, but it won't work on me. Remember that."

She stomps off.

Record: 'Ka ira (surveillance): Relaxation induction. Fail. Beastkin instinct resistance + olfactory detection. Whisper emits magical "scent." Need alternate approach for beastkin.'

But book said resistance drops in extreme emotional highs. Beastkin woman in heat = defenses crumble? Ways to heat up Ka ira... tough mission. But doable.

First, bag a milf or two for a base. Ka ira next.

Night. Back in my Annex room, organizing notes. Quill scratches parchment. Candle flickers, my shadow dances on the page.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I set down the quill. 'Lv.1 already opens doors.'

Can't fight on battlefields yet, but I can manipulate human relations. Gather info, buy affinity, lower guards.

In politics and power, moving hearts beats swords. Flame Sword kills kings but can't change them. Mental interference? That's how Mental Emperor Baltor conquered half the continent.

And I have what Baltor lacked: modern psychology, systematic science.

Knock knock.

"Summoner."

Ka ira's voice. I shove the log in a drawer. Heart pounds.

"Yes."

Open the door. Ka ira's there in training gear. No armor—leather vest and pants. Oh. Ooh.

Vest sweat-soaked, clinging to tan skin. Sweat beads trickle from collarbone down. Muscles taut between leather straps. Black hair damp on forehead and temples. Breathing heavy. Hah, hah. Breasts heave under the vest with each inhale.

'This woman's got wild milf vibes.'

Eyeing sweat trail from collarbone to cleavage, my gaze meets her golden eyes.

Shit. Caught?

"Queen Consort summons you tomorrow."

"The Queen Consort?"

"Study, not throne room. No idea why."

"Good news maybe?"

"If good, would I come this late?"

"Fair point."

Ka ira eyes me sharply.

"Funny business, I cut your throat. Don't forget."

"Of course. Never do."

She turns. Vest hem lifts, flashing her slim waistline. Warrior build, but waist-to-hip curve is feminine. Dick stirring.

Even after door closes, her wild milf scent lingers.

Long after calming my junk, cold analysis: 'Queen Consort summons me. After calling me useless?'

Something's up. Needs mental skills. Execution? No need for study—send knights.

Study: private space. Secrets.

She has a secret task, figures mental interference solves it.

Lips curl. 'Opportunity.'

Queen Consort Elena. Cold married woman with purple eyes. Called me "trash." Now summons me personally.

Needs mental interference = problem beyond her power. Weakness.

Hot. What's under that dress? Body of a nation-ruler. Ruler pussy. Leagues beyond normals.

Tomorrow. Meet Elena, spot weakness, build rapport. When time's right, her pussy too.

Candle flickers. Distant guard shout outside: "All clear!"

Patrolling at intervals. Palace pretends peace, but tomorrow reveals undercurrents.

I pull the hidden parchment again. Review today's log. Five tests, five data points. Ka ira fail most valuable—failure teaches more.

"Beastkin targets. Standard emotion induction fails. But possible resistance drop in heightened emotional state."

Triple underline. Add small: "Tomorrow Queen Consort meeting — Observation points: 1) Facial changes, 2) Lip movements, 3) Blink rate, 4) Finger tension, 5) Breathing pattern, 6) Presence of aides by throne."

Set down quill. Heart races. Day three in this world. Night when things finally start moving.