Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 159: The Princess and the Witch’s First Encounter

Chapter 159: The Princess and the Witch’s First Encounter

What the hell?!

When Lynn heard those words, his entire body froze as if struck by lightning.

Though Yveste’s warm breath against his ear and her faint fragrance left him momentarily dazed, the words she spoke were utterly terrifying.

The Lie Eater state nearly collapsed under the sheer shock.

Meanwhile, Yveste’s earlier words echoed incessantly in his mind.

She… wants to contact the Witch?! Seriously?

At that moment, Lynn felt a chill crawl up his spine.

As a follower of the Witch of the End, Lynn had means of communicating with her—something Yveste had long suspected. It wasn’t something he thought he could successfully hide from her.

However, in order to avoid provoking the emotionally volatile princess, Lynn had made it a point to never bring up such matters.

Even Yveste herself, harboring a deep hatred for the Witch of the End, had repeatedly and strictly forbidden him from mentioning anything related to the future without her permission.

Lynn had abided by this rule, carefully steering clear of any potential clashes between the two.

Yet, deep down, a sense of impending doom had always lingered.

He knew Yveste’s personality all too well.

With her overwhelming possessiveness, how could she possibly tolerate sharing her beloved “pet” with another woman for long?

Lynn had always feared that this ticking time bomb would eventually go off—he just didn’t expect it to happen now.

He desperately wanted to bluff his way out or simply play dead, acting oblivious.

But the problem was, he was currently in a state of “hypnosis.”

A hypnotized individual was supposed to obey the hypnotist’s every command unconditionally.

If he refused now, all his previous charades would fall apart, and it might provoke Yveste into a fit of rage. Who knew what she might do then?

What should I do?!

Sweat poured down Lynn’s back.

Though he didn’t know why Yveste wanted to contact the Witch, it was unlikely to involve anything as peaceful as sharing tea and friendly conversation.

Yveste frowned slightly, her patience wearing thin from the lack of response. She glanced at the glowing Eye of the Mind sigil in her palm and muttered to herself, “Why isn’t it working?”

Damn!

Alarm bells rang in Lynn’s mind. Hurriedly, he put on a dull, blank expression and said slowly, “The Witch and I… communicate through a sealed artifact—this parchment.”

“Give it to me.”

Yveste, unfazed, extended her slender hand.

Damn it. Damn it!

Lynn could think of no excuse to stop her.

Rationally, he considered throwing himself into her arms to shower her with affection. Maybe that would make Yveste happy enough to overlook his secrecy.

But then again, this matter had nothing to do with the Witch herself.

This was his own decision to conceal information from her.

If discovered, the consequences… were unimaginable.

Feeling the undeniable force of Yveste’s crimson eyes, Lynn hesitated in his mind before reluctantly pulling the parchment from his coat and presenting it to her.

Maybe… maybe she just needs advice for something and wants to consult the Witch?

Thinking about it that way, it didn’t seem entirely impossible. After all, the Witch had lived for tens of thousands of years, her insight and knowledge far surpassing that of ordinary people.

As a fledgling herself, it wouldn’t be inconceivable for Princess Yveste to take the initiative to ask for guidance on occasion.

Lynn comforted himself with this thought.

“Carry me to the desk,” Yveste said, spreading her arms.

Seeing the parchment, she showed no surprise but gestured for Lynn to pick her up.

Moments later, they were at the desk.

Lynn sat on the chair while Yveste perched on his lap.

The posture was undeniably intimate, but there wasn’t an ounce of amorousness in Lynn’s thoughts.

He was bracing himself for the final “judgment” Yveste was about to deliver.

“I’ll speak, and you’ll write,” Yveste murmured softly, planting a light kiss on his face before placing the pen into his hand.

Lynn took a deep breath.

“Wretched woman, this time, I’ve won.”

Yveste’s voice, laced with warmth yet tinged with a provocative tone, rang in his ears.

Just the first sentence alone nearly made Lynn lose his composure, his hand trembling so much he almost dropped the pen.

Fortunately, Yveste, seated on his lap and cradling his chin, gazed into his blue eyes as though admiring a priceless treasure.

Because her back was to the desk, she didn’t notice his reaction.

Clenching his teeth, Lynn finally forced himself to comply and began writing according to her dictation.

In the Pantheon.

As usual, the cold and elegant woman in a black dress and white hair lay sprawled on the grand hall’s floor, her eyes half-closed and a partially-read book resting in her arms.

It had been some time since her follower last visited.

Though she never mentioned it, the Witch occasionally found herself absent-minded during her idle moments, unable to suppress the inexplicable thoughts that drifted into her mind.

And within those thoughts, the boy’s figure would surface unconsciously.

“Click...”

At that moment, an almost imperceptible cracking sound reached the Witch’s ears.

Her eyes opened instinctively, their cold gaze falling on the Chains of Order binding her right wrist.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed a hair-thin crack had appeared on the chain at her wrist. It was so minute that one wouldn’t notice it without careful observation.

This minuscule crack posed no threat to the chain’s overall integrity.

And yet, a glimmer of interest surfaced in the Witch’s eyes.

How long has it been? Just a few days?

To her surprise, her follower had already caused a degree of fate deviation in the past of that Moon Goddess.

It seemed he had taken her instructions to heart.

The Witch sat up slightly, leaning against the sturdy stone pillar behind her. She gently tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear, her soft pink lips curving into a barely perceptible smile—her mood seemingly lifted.

If she could shatter this shackle, which symbolized the Moon Goddess, her authority and power would be further restored.

Of course, such a minuscule crack alone wouldn’t free her from the shackle.

If the crack were to widen by several dozen times, then perhaps freedom would come easily.

As she mused, the Witch’s finger lightly traced the crack on the shackle, her touch as delicate as a whisper.

It wasn’t often she had the chance to meet with Lynn, and she was not one to reveal her thoughts outwardly.

In this moment, it was as if she were using the crack to sense Lynn’s heartbeat and destiny across the chasm of ten thousand years.

But then, a sudden premonition surged within her.

She instinctively raised her hand, and with a faint ripple of spatial distortion, an ancient and worn parchment appeared in her palm.

It’s him?

Without hesitation, the Witch’s lips curved slightly upward as she unrolled the parchment.

Sure enough, familiar handwriting began to materialize.

But as the words came into focus, her expression quickly turned icy.

Although the handwriting was unmistakably his, the tone and meaning behind the words were all too familiar—and not in a pleasant way.

"Wretched woman, this time I’ve won."

Just the opening sentence was enough to make her slender fingers clench tightly.

As someone who retained memories of the past, the Witch instantly recognized this as the nickname Yveste had coined for her.

Although, in a sense, it insulted Yveste herself, it was undeniably filled with malicious intent.

The Witch’s perfect brows furrowed, and an expression as cold as frost spread across her face.

She continued reading further.

"At tonight’s banquet, that adorable little Eleanor called me ‘Sister-in-law’ in front of everyone."

"I’m quite delighted, though I wonder what you’re feeling right now."

"And don’t try to comfort yourself with nonsense like ‘I’m just a fragment of your past.’ Because when she said ‘Sister-in-law,’ she was addressing the present-day me, not the you from ten thousand years later."

"This was an acknowledgment from his family—something the you of ten thousand years later will never obtain."

"Since you’re trapped here like a prisoner, you might as well accept your fate as a stray dog instead of repeatedly doing unnecessary things. Lynn only needs me by his side."

"I hope you can come to terms with this and stop disrupting the life of our family in the future."

The letter ended there.

At some point, the Witch had sat upright, her snow-white wrist trembling faintly beneath her sleeve, the Chains of Order jangling softly in response.

It was obvious that she was suppressing an unprecedented fury.

As the strongest deity in history, she had never faced such humiliation since ascending to godhood.

And all of this came from the very past self she loathed.

In an instant, scarlet light surged like a flood, engulfing the entire Pantheon, as if it sought to obliterate the place that imprisoned her.

Her chest heaved rapidly as her power raged out of control.

Though her face remained emotionless, the chilling fury in her eyes could not be concealed.

She was truly enraged.

Should I try it?

The Witch raised her right hand, her gaze fixed on the fine crack in the shackle.

Even though it was barely a sliver, it allowed her to glimpse a potential “opportunity.”

Though she hadn’t attempted it yet, she sensed that through this crack, she might achieve something previously unthinkable.

Just as she hesitated, a sudden memory surged through her mind, stealing away her rationality in an instant.

"You… court death!"

It’s over. I’m done for.

Recalling the content he had written on the parchment, Lynn sat there, his eyes dull, as if he had just been ravaged and tormented by the Older Sister.

Thankfully, he was still in his “hypnotized” state, so Yveste didn’t notice anything unusual.

Watching the text fade slowly from the parchment, Yveste’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, clearly entertained by the chaos she had just unleashed.

It seemed her message had been successfully delivered ten thousand years into the future.

What kind of reaction would that woman have?

As Yveste fell into silent contemplation, the atmosphere turned somewhat eerie.

Lynn, on the other hand, sank deeper into despair, internally calculating his exit strategy while discreetly observing Yveste’s mood.

He couldn’t help but feel curious about everything that had unfolded tonight.

Why had the princess become so preoccupied after leaving Elohet Palace?

And why had she gone out of her way to provoke the Witch?

In Lynn’s mind, it likely had something to do with Saint Roland VI.

Damn old man. Even now, is he still scheming in the shadows?

For a moment, Lynn’s mind was overwhelmed with countless thoughts, swirling like a chaotic storm.

The atmosphere between the two grew silent, heavy yet oddly intimate.

For the next few minutes, Yveste didn’t leave. Instead, she remained perched on Lynn’s lap.

Not only that, but she casually kicked off her high heels, revealing her soft, pale, and delicate feet. She stretched and lightly swayed them in the air, akin to a content cat curled up in her owner’s arms.

Occasionally, she leaned her head against Lynn’s chest, quietly listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as if she were waiting for something.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, Yveste glanced at the clock, her expression faintly puzzled, as though surprised that what she had anticipated hadn’t occurred.

“Could it be… the provocation wasn’t enough?”

She frowned, mumbling to herself.

After a moment, Yveste shook her head, as though lamenting her future self.

To endure even this… utterly pathetic, like a turtle hiding in its shell.

If it were her in the same situation, even at the cost of half her life, she would immediately return to her adorable little dog’s side and slaughter any vile woman who dared to claim him.

Thinking about this, Yveste’s gaze softened as it fell on Lynn’s handsome face. Her pink tongue flicked across her lips.

If the provocation isn’t enough, then let’s add more.

Staring into his blue eyes that reflected her figure, Yveste slowly cupped his face and leaned in for a deep kiss.

Her gaze never wavered as she pressed her lips to his.

She wasn’t just looking into his eyes.

No, she was using them as a mirror, gazing at the reflection of herself within them.

That was her—but also not entirely her.

If that detestable woman with the same memories were here, she would easily understand the deeper meaning behind Yveste’s actions.

Through the reflection in Lynn’s eyes, Yveste was locking eyes with the Witch of the End, her future self, across ten thousand years.

It was as if she were saying:

No matter how “hard” a man might be, his lips are always soft.

So sweet, so delicious!

As these thoughts filled her mind, Yveste couldn’t help but press her pink tongue against the roof of Lynn’s mouth, playfully and gently exploring every inch.

Feeling her movements, Lynn’s heart pounded wildly.

Please, no more! Please stop this madness!

At this moment, there wasn’t a single improper thought in his mind.

Lynn simply prayed to the gods, pleading for her to stop whatever madness she was unleashing.

He couldn’t understand why this woman had been waging a battle of wits against thin air ever since earlier.

After all, the Witch resided ten thousand years in the future, separated by such an unfathomable distance. How could she possibly…

Yet, just as that thought formed, an overwhelming presence—unlike anything Lynn had ever felt—suddenly surged into his spiritual world through the Anchor Sigil of the Chosen of the End.

It was a power so intense that it made his very soul tremble.

Lynn didn’t even have a chance to resist. In an instant, his vision went black.

In the fleeting moment before his consciousness faded, he finally understood what was happening to him.

And he realized the true purpose behind Yveste’s actions.

Of course.

Who would know themselves better than… themselves?

Even after ten thousand years, that deep-rooted, pathological possessiveness in her heart had never diminished.

This was something Yveste had known all along.

At this very moment, within the Bartleon Estate, using Lynn’s body as a vessel…

The Witch of the End had descended.