How to Induce People
Right after I'd splashed water on Geon-woo, he seemed to have snapped out of his tunnel vision. That at least meant he wasn't seeing any pointless hallucinations... but
"I won't say it. How can I believe that?"
Nothing had changed. The guy in front of me was still doubting me.
"Haa..."
I let out a quiet sigh. How was I supposed to deal with this stubborn blockhead named Lee Geon-woo?
I'd proposed that I wouldn't say anything. He'd countered by asking how he could believe me. People's hearts are like reeds in the wind—he was saying I wouldn't keep my word. It was the devil's proof, plain and simple. You can't prove a negative. The only option is to trust. And this guy had no intention of trusting me. He'd lived a life like that himself, so he figured everyone else was the same.
I scratched the back of my head like it was a hassle. Ah, what a pain. I really need to fix this habit...
No matter how I looked at it, this tic had to go. I observe people, calculate their most likely actions, and end up stabbing right at the core without meaning to. It's not on purpose. It's just an unconscious reaction that developed after years of dealing with all sorts of crap.
So, I could read the answer to this situation too. Not something I figured out consciously, but an instinctive certainty. That's why I spat it out.
We weren't close enough for it to matter, so I just went for it. He was just another classmate anyway.
"So what are you gonna do about it?"
"...What?"
"What? I'm asking what you can even do about it."
I could never convince Geon-woo. He had no intention of listening or believing me. Even if I spilled my secret here, he'd dismiss it as a lie. That's why this was the right approach. Better than vaguely trying to meet him at eye level. Crush him completely.
So—
"Let me say it again. Even if I do tell, what can you do about it?"
This time, I'd pin him down for good. Make him think that even if I knew his secret, he was powerless. Using a psychological induction technique I hadn't pulled out in ages.
Right after hearing Sung-hoon's provocative words—Geon-woo's pupils shook. Just for a split second. But unmistakably.
"What do you—"
He couldn't finish. Sung-hoon didn't wait. He kept pressing, advancing to lock eyes. At the same time, Geon-woo instinctively stepped back to avoid it.
People under pressure unconsciously seek an escape route. It was patterned data from everyone Sung-hoon had ever met. He followed the analysis and pressed on.
"You know what you fear the most?"
It landed casually. But from the listener's side? A flood of thoughts— from the best-case scenario to the ones you don't even want to imagine. Just that overloads the brain. Imagining the future eats more resources than recalling the past.
Geon-woo's eyes flicked slightly up and to the left. The unconscious tell for imagination. Sung-hoon caught it instantly.
"What? It came to you quick?"
Geon-woo's brain locked onto scenarios. They gained substance, growing more real. But—
"But you think it'll end there?"
Sung-hoon took a step closer. Barely any footstep sound, but the shrinking distance was pressure itself. He kept overloading Geon-woo's brain, forcing imaginations, then negating them to spawn new realities. All while slipping in attacks from other angles.
"Getting found out? No way."
First, the top fear he'd likely have. Double symbolism: I see through your thoughts, and I'm dismissing your worst option as nothing.
Tell someone not to think of an elephant, and they'll picture one. So downplay exposure as trivial, then dangle another threat.
"......"
Geon-woo's eyes flicked up-left again. Success—leading him to even worse imaginings.
"Rumors spreading? Nah."
Keep the mental pressure on. Demote common fears to "that crap," inject new dangers into his visions.
Geon-woo's breathing hitched subtly. Inhales and exhales out of sync. Waffling between unconscious and conscious. Sung-hoon knew: induction was prime now.
"What you're really scared of—"
Pause. Then strike true.
"Is that you can't do a damn thing about it."
Silence. The air sank heavy once.
Geon-woo's eyes widened. He tried to deny—mouth cracked open, then shut. No words.
That reaction was the answer. Sung-hoon didn't stop. Pausing would hand back control.
"I can see everything in your head right now."
Flat. No emotion. Points to himself.
"I go out and tell."
Points to Geon-woo.
"You'll get despised by everyone, abandoned by all."
Logically impossible. A lone assa like me couldn't sway the class vibe dominated by the inssas, no matter how hard I tried. They'd write it off as sour grapes from a loser jealous of class prez Geon-woo.
But Geon-woo couldn't think straight anymore. Sung-hoon had already rattled his thoughts into dysfunction.
One by one. Slowly. So slow no escape.
"Does that sound like a lie?"
Sung-hoon tilted his head slightly.
"To stop it, what'll you do?"
"......"
Geon-woo's fists clenched naturally. Sung-hoon stayed alert for a swing, kept talking.
"Hit me? You think I didn't see that coming?"
A thin smirk. Emphasizing that option's pathetic. Your choices are already in my math.
Narrowing options. First to cut: violence, physical stuff.
"Think you can shut me up?"
I'd win a fight here, but it wasn't smart. Inssas everywhere—rumors would suck. Sung-hoon's calculated choice.
So say it calm. Confirming, resolute, firm. No mockery.
Geon-woo's body froze. Bypassed his brain—his body got it first.
Hit me here? Then what? Thoughts wouldn't connect. No—blocked from connecting.
Sung-hoon pushed one more.
"You can't do shit."
Declares it. No wiggle room. Block thought escapes, corner him.
"You've got one option."
Geon-woo's gaze followed automatically. Dragged in.
"Shut up and hope I don't say anything."
That instant. Geon-woo's expression cracked. Tiny. But real.
Sung-hoon didn't miss it.
"See? Convinced now?"
Low. Steady. Total top-down press.
"What you were picturing earlier—"
Sung-hoon tapped his head.
"Your brain gets it fully now, right?"
"......"
To the silent Geon-woo—he drove in the final nail.
Confirm all his imaginings stemmed from his thoughts, not Sung-hoon's. Lock them in unconscious memory so they stick. Final blow.
"Whether it happens or not—that's my call."
Silence. Not Geon-woo's this time. Stolen stillness.
Geon-woo couldn't speak. Thoughts wouldn't sort. Couldn't sort.
Everything he'd thought he controlled—flipped.
Sung-hoon watched, thinking inside: Good enough.
This was the goal: thought induction. Geon-woo had no choice but to believe now.
Sung-hoon left the dazed Geon-woo, slapping his shoulder on the way out. Firm as fact:
"So just watch yourself, and it'll be fine."
Simple shackle, not forgotten.
I returned to the track. Waiting were two sulky faces.
"Why'd you take so long!?"
"Do you know how long we waited?"
Seol-ah teased, Ha-yoon scolded. I apologized quick, trying to make amends.
"Sorry, sorry. I'll grab juices on the way out instead."
That melted their expressions. It wasn't real anger anyway—just mild complaint.
So I promised them juices. And come Monday, I got double the coffee in return.