novelraw Chapter 9 : Chapter 9
Chapter 9 : Chapter 9
Chapter 9
A cold standoff continued between the adjutant and me.
THUD!
Lord Dalmon slammed his fist down on the desk. His strength was so great that the metal table visibly crumpled.
“I, I…”
In stark contrast to that overwhelming strength, Lord Dalmon spoke with an expression that looked unbearably weak and sorrowful.
“…Ugh, I did nothing more than exterminate filthy, savage orcs! Then why, why are you treating me like this? It is because that bastard Berian is weak—because his heart is weak—why is that my fault?! Why is it me?!”
“Lord Dalmon, I did not accuse you of anything. I merely—”
I could not finish my sentence.
The adjutant pressed the blade at my throat even closer. The chill of the steel seemed to seep all the way into my windpipe.
“Shut up and leave. Say nothing more to Lord Dalmon.”
“…Understood, Adjutant Sigrid. Lord Dalmon. If the opportunity arises, we shall meet again.”
The adjutant withdrew the blade that had been aimed at my neck, and I rose from my seat.
As I turned to leave, I glanced back.
Adjutant Sigrid stood ramrod straight at attention, glaring at me with a venomous, unwavering stare. Lord Dalmon had buried his head into the crushed desk, sobbing.
***
A day passed after my meeting with Lord Dalmon, and a letter arrived from the kingdom.
─Two weeks. If Berian the Mage’s phobia is not cured within that time, the contract will be terminated.
It was not difficult to guess that Adjutant Sigrid’s personal opinions had been heavily added to that letter.
I requested meetings with other knights and soldiers who had participated in the Ashen Cinder Battle instead of Lord Dalmon, but I was rejected every single time. This, too, was likely due to Adjutant Sigrid’s influence.
Phobias—especially those caused by PTSD—must be handled delicately.
If one does not know exactly what happened at the time, treatment will remain elusive indefinitely.
‘In order to treat Mr. Berian, I have to know about the Ashen Cinder Battle.’
Not fabricated records, but what truly happened during the Ashen Cinder Battle.
‘But how?’
The truth was concealed by the royal army and the kingdom itself. At this point, I would no longer be able to meet anyone who had participated in the battle.
Mr. Berian had virtually no accessible memories of the Ashen Cinder Battle due to trauma.
More precisely, the memories existed, but he was unable to convey them to others. His memories were submerged at the very bottom of his consciousness.
‘The advance payment is not the real problem. Letting things end like this, without being able to treat Mr. Berian, leaves a terrible taste in my mouth.’
Of course, the advance payment was also a problem.
I was in no position to return the money the kingdom had already paid me….
While I was lost in thought, Mr. Berian arrived at the counseling office. Today was his scheduled session.
“Hello, Mr. Berian. How have your symptoms been?”
“About the same. Lately, I have been avoiding anything related to f-fire altogether. Every time I see it, I start b-breathing fast and stuttering….”
“And you have been taking your medication continuously?”
“Yes. I am still taking it, but even so….”
Even mentioning the word “fire” seemed difficult for Mr. Berian. His condition showed no sign of improvement.
I felt powerless.
‘Without knowing what truly happened during the Ashen Cinder Battle, I cannot treat Mr. Berian. And the fact that there is no way to learn that truth is what makes me feel powerless.’
‘No… there is one method.’
A way to uncover the truth—and at the same time, a way to treat Mr. Berian.
I voiced the idea that had suddenly occurred to me.
“Mr. Berian, would you be willing to try hypnotherapy?”
“…What?”
Mr. Berian looked unfamiliar with the term. That was understandable. In a world where the profession of counselor itself was unfamiliar, the concept of hypnosis would naturally be foreign as well.
“In cases like the phobia you are experiencing, confrontation is important. Avoidance and running away make it very difficult to overcome.”
“I-I suppose so. I have no intention of running away.”
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder does not heal by remaining idle.
One must confront it, and confront it again. Treatment is, by nature, painful rather than comfortable.
Fortunately, people in this world understood such concepts well. Whether one called it recklessness or courage, their very disposition favored confrontation over avoidance.
“In my opinion, Mr. Berian’s phobia originated from the Ashen Cinder Battle.”
“The Ashen Cinder Battle… yes, that is probably true.”
“The memories of that battle were so painful that you locked them away at the deepest level of your mind. In that state, confrontation becomes impossible.”
Of course, one must not force confrontation recklessly. It must be done slowly, carefully, so that the mind does not suffer shock.
In Mr. Berian’s case, we would first restore the memories of the Ashen Cinder Battle, then help him grow accustomed to media and language indirectly related to fire, and only after that gradually confront fire itself—eventually even flame magic.
“Hypnosis can help with that.”
“How is that possible?”
“Through circumstances and magical elements, I will place you in a half-asleep state. I will blur your perception. In that condition, I will gently guide specific actions and language, slowly and carefully drawing out those memories.”
Hypnosis in this world was quite different from hypnosis in my previous life.
In my previous life, emotions originated from hormones. Here, they could originate from mana—and above all, magic existed.
Hypnosis here made use of mental-type magic. As a result, it was more direct than hypnosis in my previous life, simpler in some ways, and even reliable.
After hearing the explanation, Mr. Berian looked uneasy.
“…Is that not mind control magic?”
“It is similar, but slightly different. Mind control magic forces a person to perform actions they would never normally take. For example, it could make an extremely kind person commit murder. Hypnosis does not do that.”
I continued explaining calmly. If a client feared hypnosis, attempting hypnotherapy would be impossible.
“If mind control magic creates something out of nothing, then hypnosis can be described as greatly amplifying something that already exists. Hypnosis cannot create something out of nothing.”
“That is difficult to understand.”
“Above all, the human unconscious possesses a self-protective instinct. Hypnosis cannot issue commands that violate it. If such a command is given, blurred perception immediately sharpens, and the hypnosis is broken.”
In truth, there were methods to issue commands that defied such instincts and perception.
However, I did not explain that. I had no intention of using such methods on Mr. Berian, and there was no need to instill unnecessary fear.
“So… you are certain that hypnosis will help with the treatment?”
“It will definitely help.”
After repeated persuasion, Mr. Berian’s fear and anxiety toward hypnosis seemed to lessen somewhat.
“…All right. I will try it.”
As Mr. Berian finally nodded, a peculiar light flickered in his eyes.
“Will hypnotherapy be done here as well?”
“No. We will conduct it in the special counseling room.”
“The special counseling room?”
“Please, follow me.”
I led Mr. Berian to the special counseling room.
Inside were a large bed and a single chair, and the room was enclosed on all sides by solid walls. Mr. Berian looked around, then asked with curiosity,
“Uh… I have never seen a place like this before. Was it always here?”
“It was newly built during the recent expansion of the counseling office. It is a space used for various special treatments, including hypnotherapy.”
“Oh….”
The special counseling room was equipped with facilities required for special treatments.
It also possessed “special functions.”
“Please lie down in this chair. We will begin.”
***
When people hear the word “hypnosis,” the first image that comes to mind is a coin.
You know—the coin with a hole in it that a hypnotist always holds in media featuring hypnosis.
The coin that is rhythmically swung in front of the subject’s eyes.
In hypnosis, this coin is called a “medium.”
The role of the medium is to induce immersion.
A person under hypnosis usually has their eyes closed, and their speech sounds sluggish or vague. As a result, they appear less immersed and more defenseless, as if half asleep.
In reality, however, a hypnotized person is focusing an unconscious level of concentration entirely on the hypnotist’s suggestions. Because all their concentration is directed there, they only appear defenseless at a glance.
In any case, I did not intend to use such a “medium.”
‘More precisely, I intend to use magic instead of a medium.’
The principle behind mental-type magic is generally as follows: through magic, one alters the flow of mana within the target’s body, thereby inducing changes in their emotions.
It is easy to imagine throwing a stone into a calm lake to artificially create ripples.
However, even if a stone is thrown into a lake, the ripples are only temporary. Even if rain falls, the water level rises only slightly, and even if the sun shines brightly, the water level falls only slightly.
Likewise, even when using mental-type magic, one cannot cause lasting or permanent changes to another person’s emotions.
And just as one can create ripples by throwing a stone but cannot change the shape of the lake itself, mental-type magic cannot evoke emotions that are overly complex.
‘But I can.’
I can see and feel the shape and flow of mana within a target’s body.
If I use this ability more deeply and strongly, I can alter the shape and flow of mana itself, guiding the target into feeling specific emotions.
“Mr. Berian, from now on, I will be intervening with the mana inside your body. I will not only observe its shape and flow, but directly influence them.”
“That is possible… no, I suppose asking such questions is meaningless now. Understood.”
Mr. Berian readily extended his hand toward me.
“I will trust you, Instructor.”
“Please do.”
I took his hand and contemplated the shape and flow of the mana coursing through his body.
As a powerful mage, Mr. Berian possessed a large quantity of mana, and its flow was smooth. However, its shape was generally sharp and constricted—a form commonly seen in people suffering from a dangerously severe level of depression.
This was likely because his inability to use magic due to Fire Phobia had severely damaged his self-esteem.
“We will begin.”
As I said that, I injected mana into Mr. Berian’s body.
I began directly influencing the shape and flow of the mana within him.
It was easier said than done—a feat only I could perform.
As mana was injected, the flow appeared to stop for an instant. In truth, it had not stopped; it had merely slowed to such an extent that it seemed so.
The sharp shape of the mana gradually became round.
The once tiny, spherical mana particles began to spin, eventually forming ellipsoids.
Around that time, Mr. Berian’s breathing became perfectly regular.
His mind would also have entered a state extremely conducive to immersion. I had manipulated the shape and flow of mana precisely to achieve that.
“Now, all you need to do is follow my words, one by one. Relax.”
Since I had explained beforehand that there was no need to answer or nod, Mr. Berian remained still. He simply closed his eyes comfortably. At a glance, he looked as though he were asleep.
“You are standing in a field where a cool breeze blows. In the distance, you see a cave. It is a deep cave. You slowly step into it. The cave slopes downward. You walk down into its depths.”
Mr. Berian’s eyelids fluttered briefly, as if in a spasm, then settled.
“The cave is quiet, but it is safe and comfortable. There, you can hear only my voice clearly. Now, you proceed deeper into the cave….”
At last, Mr. Berian’s expression and face completely relaxed.
I could tell that he had entered a state of immersion. Occasionally, hypnosis fails to take hold, but fortunately, that was not the case for Mr. Berian.
“…You see a light ahead. You emerge from the cave. You are walking with your comrades, with Lord Dalmon and Adjutant Sigrid. You are exhausted.”
Mr. Berian’s brow furrowed slightly.
Carefully and gently, I guided him toward the situation at that time.
“You, exhausted, find a place to rest and stop. What do you see?”
“A village… a village….”
A small smile spread across Mr. Berian’s lips.
“There is a village… orc residents live there.”
“……”
I frowned.
‘Not an orc military outpost, but a village?’
I had assumed that one or two lines of the Ashen Cinder Battle records had been falsified.
I was wrong.
The records of the Ashen Cinder Battle had been fabricated from beginning to end.