The illusion Helen experienced was a masterpiece of magical engineering, designed to satisfy her curiosity about Uris's "defeat" and "desire" while weaving in her own deepest repulsions.
—"Do you have a specific preference for what you dislike?"
—"I hate losers. Those pathetic people who have no intention of bettering themselves. I feel like their failure is contagious just by being near them. Why do you ask?"
"A loser."
By having her pinpoint a specific target, I could tailor the experience just as I had for Uris. Based on her description, I etched the image of the "Academy Loser" into the magic circle—the gloomy, tattered, incompetent loner from her department.
Unlike Uris, whose desires were clearly defined, Helen's illusion required a higher level of difficulty. I didn't just extract an image; I used her own memories to construct a narrative of collapse. It was the perfect trap: she would be defeated by the very person she despised most, broken by the very carnal urges she considered beneath her.
"Her pride is certainly something else," I muttered, still "playing" the role of the loser within the dream.
Even within the illusion, Helen clung to her identity as a Sylvestra. Even as she was reduced to the status she loathed, she fought back with a mental fortitude that would have seen a normal person surrendering to the pleasure long ago. But the moment she saw her disheveled, ruined reflection in the mirror... that was when the cracks truly began to show.
'Well, she didn't come here to indulge like Uris did.'
Helen was here on a mission to find Uris's weakness. I had forcibly injected a scenario she hated. It was natural for her to resist.
Watching her attempt to use spirit magic over and over was fascinating. It was impossible, of course. A high-level illusionist can invert the flow of mana, making it impossible to manifest spells or aura. For a spiritist, this meant her "voice" could never reach the Spirit Realm. The mana required to bridge the worlds was simply out of alignment.
'There are only two people in the world who can twist mana this perfectly.'
Myself and my master, Maeko. I had bled for years to perfect this technique. Without it, a customer might "tear" the world apart and ruin the immersion the moment things got too intense.
Now, let's see how much longer our Lady Sylvestra can endure without her precious spirits.
"Why... why won't you answer...?" Helen sobbed.
She had called out to her spirits hundreds of times, her voice shifting from a command to a desperate whimper. Silence was her only reply. She was truly, utterly alone.
"Do you finally get it? You're just an incompetent loser now. Just like the version of me you hated so much."
The loser's thick fingers slid inside her panties. The wet, squelching sound of his movements—the way he squeezed her clitoris with agonizing pressure—sent jolts through her.
"Hngh!"
A moan escaped her lips despite her efforts to bite it back. Her arousal was dripping past the fabric of her underwear. She hated this. She loathed the way her body reacted.
"Nngh... ah..."
Yet, every time his fingers rubbed against her, her hips twitched. She had to stop. she couldn't give him the satisfaction. But her body had betrayed her, just as the spirits had, just as her family had in this nightmare.
Twitch. Twitch.
When his finger pushed inside and tapped against her vaginal wall—
"Mmmppph!!"
She bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, but her eyes rolled back. Her muscles spasmed, her body acting of its own accord.
"Coming again? That's four times now. Still going to deny it?"
Spent and trembling, Helen slumped against him. He looked weak, but beneath his clothes, his frame felt like solid iron. A man's body is so firm... even a loser's...
Wait, what am I thinking? Get a grip, Helen!
"No resting. Open your legs."
"Kyaaa!"
Before she could recover, he forced her legs apart. Her body, which had never known a man, seemed to crave the intrusion now that it had tasted pleasure. Her core wept with fluid, demanding more.
"Now, do it yourself."
"What...?"
"Masturbate. It's time you did it on your own."
"..."
"If you reach the peak by yourself, I'll let you go. Isn't there something you wanted to find here?"
"Fine."
"But," the loser said, dragging her to the full-length mirror. "Use the reflection of yourself as your 'material.' For someone as narcissistic as you, surely looking at yourself is better than thinking of a man, right?"
"..."
Actually, that's better, she thought. Better than thinking of this worm.
Helen looked at herself. She was completely bare now, stripped of every noble trapping. Her only remaining symbol of Sylvestra was her long, silver hair, but even that was a matted mess of sweat and saliva clinging to her skin. Everything she took pride in was soiled. She couldn't look away. It was a command. It was her only way out.
"Spread your legs like a crab and show me everything while you do it."
Grit teeth. Shaking knees. She spread herself wide, exposing her most intimate parts to the glass. The weight of the defeat felt like it was strangling her. Just endure. Just this once... the real me is fine.
Squelch. Squish.
Her slender fingers entered herself. Usually, she was too afraid to do more than a light touch with one finger.
"So that's how you usually do it," the loser mocked.
The sensation of her own fingers against her sensitive walls was overwhelming. Her body was hyper-sensitized from the "loser's" earlier assault.
"Hngh... ah... hah!"
Her back arched as she felt a stimulation she had never managed on her own. Her body bit down on her fingers as if trying to devour them. The sound of air escaping her—the "pussy farts"—made her die of shame.
"Your body is so hungry. Were you always this desperate?"
But something was wrong. It wasn't enough. She couldn't reach the end as easily as before. Why? It feels so good... but I need to go faster... I need to finish so I can leave!
As if possessed, she added a second finger.
"Nngh!"
Plop!
The feeling of being stretched was intoxicating. Her hips bucked. She didn't even care about being quiet anymore.
"This... feels... good..."
She wanted more. To escape, she needed something thicker... she was about to add a third finger when—
"I told you to use your reflection as your material, didn't I?"
"Wh-what...?"
"You're getting too caught up in the physical sensation. Look at yourself."
Helen looked up. In the mirror stood a depraved, silver-haired girl with her legs spread, frantically trying to pleasure herself. There was no noble dignity. No grace of a spiritist. No sharp intellect of an Academy student. Just a face flushed with base, animalistic lust.
Even if it was to escape, the sight of herself was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. It was the version of herself she loathed most.
"What a pathetic sight."
The loser's voice giggled. She saw his face in the mirror, standing behind her. He wore the smile of a victor.
"Did you want to escape that badly? To the point of spreading your legs like a common whore?"
"N-no... that's..."
The "whore" in the mirror shook her head, but they both knew it was a hollow gesture. Her final bastion of pride crumbled.
Squish. Squelch.
"Nnnngggghhh!"
Her fingers moved against her will now, chasing the high.
"Go ahead. Finish while imprinting that 'whore' version of yourself into your mind."
At the sound of his mocking voice—
"Hyaaahhh!!!!"
A pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt crashed over her. It felt like her brain was being melted.
Thud.
She collapsed onto the floor, soaked in her own release, staring at her reflection with hollow, vacant eyes. The loser had vanished, but she couldn't move.
When she finally came to—
"Are you awake now?"
The face of the illusionist appeared. She was back in the shop. Instinctively, she looked down.
Her hand was still between her legs.
"Did I...?"
"Yes. You were masturbating with everything you had while watching the illusion. I assume you enjoyed it."
"Th-that's not..." Helen couldn't finish her sentence.
"This," I said, cutting her off, "is a variation of what Uris saw."
"Uris... saw this?"
"Not the same video, of course. She saw her own 'desire. ' I cannot tell you exactly what it was."
"Desire..."
"My shop shows people what they want to see, after all."
"..."
This was what I wanted? Helen denied it fiercely in her heart, but her body was still trembling from the aftershocks of the climax.
"Well, now you're an accomplice."
I looked down at her and smiled. She couldn't say a word. She just sat there, shivering in the lingering heat of her defeat.