Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; It Might Blow Up

Not until I returned to the chateau did I realize that I had been so entranced by the hougen ritual that my telepathic discovery had been all but forgotten. Well, there was always tomorrow. Although I suspected that humans would not perform as well as the hougen; I’m sure I must have slipped up and used it around humans before.

I started testing out telepathy the following day in earnest. I admit to testing it out on passersby as I made my way back to my quarters the previous night. Nothing much, just basically, “Hey! You there!” The reaction I got ranged from a complete lack of response to a nervous glance over the shoulder, as one might do if they felt a ghostly presence. Mostly, I got the former, but overall, it showed that humans could sense telepathy.

Amillia made for an excellent test subject for this first wave of experiments. For my inquiries, I would leave the subject ignorant of my messaging; no need to introduce a placebo effect. Amillia showed no conscious response to my transmissions. At first, I thought her skull was just too dense for anything to penetrate; my attempts to garner her attention fell flat. But after sending a suggestion to hurry up her wardrobe selections for the day—might as well send something practical—she chose something with due haste. Well, at least for her. Even Tissa commented.

A fluke, perhaps? Later at breakfast, when she went to dig into her eggs... “Maybe eat the bread first.” Just the briefest hesitation, but then she continued on with the eggs. “What if you put the eggs on the bread and make a sandwich out of it...” This time, she stopped, and to my amazement, she did as I instructed. Could I have just discovered a way to mind-control humans? If so, then getting this collar off would be a breeze!

Of course, such quixotic hopes are uncharacteristic of me. I later tried, “Why not try skipping backwards?” Despite Amillia’s chubby stature, she was a rather active and spontaneous child. However, not the kind to try odd forms of locomotion, as evidenced by her not even breaking stride to consider my message. “How about just walking backwards?” Still, no response.

I sighed. I should never have let my hope run off the rails. Most likely, my messages just popped into Amillia’s head as random thoughts, and she hadn’t realized they were not her own. If the idea agreed with her natural inclinations, she would probably do it, if not... On a side note, maybe I could use this to guide Amillia’s thoughts. If she thought the ideas were her own, she wouldn’t be as resistant.

Next, I tested on Baafa with similar results. It seemed she sensed the thoughts I sent her, but attributed them to herself. However, I couldn’t influence her behavior at all, unlike Amillia.

“Wait... Now, where was I? Baafa scratched the back of her neck, just under her gray hair bun. “I’m sorry. My mind keeps wandering today.” It seemed she interpreted my transmission as mental noise. I left her alone after that, not wanting to make her already difficult job of tutoring Amillia more challenging. Instead, I spend the remaining time trying to influence Amillia out of her “learning” posture, to no avail.

I noted no effect with Linglang. Possibly he, or even hozenlo in general, couldn’t sense telepathy. More likely though, was nothing could get through his laser focus. As noted during my time at the Two Trees, it is possible to do something equivalent to covering your ears to block out telepathy. In Linglang’s case, he was rocking out in a mash pit of his own ideas, and no amount of yelling, even if right in his ear, would make it through. And indeed, at times when he was particularly absorbed, I had to shout in his ear to get his attention.

Tissa presented another unique case. I couldn’t influence her, and I couldn't pull her from her book. However, she did begin looking around perturbed, even after I stopped sending her messages.

“Is something wrong, Tissa?” I asked her, still unsettled even after hours had passed.

“I just... had the feeling something was watching me earlier, displeased.” Oh... It hadn’t intended to rattle her. I had merely mentioned that reading trashy romance novels was unbecoming and to take up a more edifying hobby. Now I felt I had gone too far.

“I’m sure it’s just in your head. Have you sensed it since?” I tried to negate my mistake.

“Well, no... But it felt really insistent about something!” Well, I never! I wasn’t that insistent! Clearly, this had to do more with the guilt of polluting her mind with such filth than with a displeased feeling. I was just offering some friendly advice!

I tested it out on a number of servants throughout the day as well, to varying degrees of sensitivity. One even seemed able to hear my telepathic words, though she appeared uncertain she had actually heard them. She called out and paled like she had seen a ghost when a reply wasn’t forthcoming. I had no wish to ruin another person’s day, so I made an appearance to put her mind at ease.

That concluded Phase 1 of testing. Seeking a place to ponder the results, I went to the seldom occupied library to reflect among the great works. I contemplated a hypothetical Phase 2, but that would require divulging that I could use telepathy, and I didn’t think I could trust anyone with that secret. However, I had still learned some useful things. It seemed normal people could sense telepathy, but most were not conscious of it, at least not without prompting—that would be Phase 2 if it ever happened. Though some could perceive it as an outside influence: the one servant, and even Tissa to a lesser degree.

Its most useful application would be for conscious communications. Exploring this would be Phase 2, though the fact that I didn’t have anyone I could trust meant it didn’t matter much. The ability to apply subtle direction on people’s thoughts could be useful, but it felt dangerous. If somebody realized my manipulation, I don’t think it would end well. All that being said, maybe I was missing the bigger question: how could I even use this ability to begin with? The collar should stop it.

As I pondered this question, I noticed someone reading in the corner by the last rays of sunlight spilling in through the large arched window. With her sky-blue locks, it could only be Lucial. Outside of Amillia’s lessons, I had hardly seen her lately. In fact, ever since that day on the balcony, she has acted rather aloof, especially towards me. I guess I couldn’t blame her for that. It was a rather compromising spot to be found. She wore her blue dress again; it seemed that adventuring outfit was a one-time deal. It had gotten out that she had tried to join the Adventurer’s Guild, but the details were unclear. Sistilla had gone on a diatribe about how she wouldn’t let Conroy control her, like the king controlled Lucial, during one of their shared meals. She realized her mistake too late, and I think Lucial might have teared up a little.

By putting two and two together: this revelation from Sistilla, and the talk about her father’s oppressive hand on the balcony, simple deductive reasoning would conclude King Lelemier caused her exclusion from the Guild. While I could understand the resentment of being controlled, quite well actually—I tugged on my collar—Lucial didn’t seem the rough-and-tumble type such work would attract. Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, though I would bet it was more an act of defiance.

Hmm... Why not? Just one more test before calling it a day. I selected a book to seem occupied with and seated myself comfortably with the tome propped up. Now what to transmit? Maybe I should see if I can get her to open up about her father. I think it would probably be therapeutic to vent her frustrations. It could even ward off future skydiving attempts. Sounded like a plan.

“Perhaps you should explain that night to Olavir...” I tried to make it seem like a natural thought, though it would probably only leave the vaguest of impressions. I peeked over the book, but dove back down. She had perceived something and scanned the room like a sentinel Doberman. Such a strong response, and she didn’t look doubtful of its external origins.

I tried to get absorbed in the book. Damn. My skin bristled. I should have taken a more hidden position. She was a master scribe, so it stood to reason she might be more perceptive than the common rabble. It’s fine. Plausible deniability—.

The book slammed down, and the angry face of Lucial appeared, while still maintaining a degree of regality. Okay, play dumb.

“What’s the pr—” Five fingers made sudden contact with my cheek and sent me spiraling off my chair.

“Don’t ever invade my mind again!” She said in a rage that suffered no retort. I held my throbbing cheek, unsure of how to respond, but feeling ashamed all the same. “My mind is the one thing my father has no right to!”

“…What?” I croaked out.

“Don’t invade the last place of freedom I have left!” Only the laws of physics kept her baleful glare from incinerating me. “Or I’ll... Or I’ll...” She stammered out the last few words before turning and dashing away.

If this were an experiment, then it had just exploded. I felt a knot forming in my throat and a burning in my cheeks, not all of it from the slap. This was an unmitigated disaster. Not only did Lucial now know, but she seemed to have every reason to blow the lid on my secret. Strangely, that wasn’t my first concern, as I felt I had violated a boundary, struck a nerve that should have remained untouched. Well, I couldn’t help it now. All I could do was try to conceive some way to repair the situation.