Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 161: Yveste's God-Level Micro-Management

Chapter 161: Yveste's God-Level Micro-Management

Late at night, in the Mosgra Estate.

At this moment, the first-floor hall was filled with numerous members of the Snowhawk family. Their expressions were grim, their gazes heavy and somber as they all stared at the coffin in the center of the hall.

Inside the coffin, after being prepared by an embalmer, Eunice, who had been impaled through the chest by Lynn’s spear, looked no different from an ordinary person—her eyes were closed, though her face still bore the lingering traces of terror and despair. She lay there silently at the center of the coffin, the surrounding gaps filled with clusters of blooming flowers.

Before long, a middle-aged noblewoman with a black veil over her face covered her mouth with a handkerchief. Unable to contain herself any longer, she broke into wailing sobs.

“Father… Father, both of my children… both of my children were killed by that little brat from the Bartleon family! You must avenge them…”

“Dallion… Eunice… My poor children…”

The veiled noblewoman collapsed instinctively to the floor, and only the servants by her side were able to help her back up.

Hearing this, Marquis Mosgra, standing at the forefront, looked grim as he slowly responded, “Avenge them?”

“The first time, he shot Dallion dead in front of Duke Tyrius, yet the capital did not hold him accountable in any way.”

“And the second time, he committed murder again—this time in front of His Majesty—yet he was still granted a royal pardon, running amok without any consequences.”

“So tell me, how exactly do we avenge them?”

The hall fell silent.

“After this, I fear those people will see our Mosgra family as having completely lost power. Even old rivals might take this chance to step on us… Damn it, what is His Majesty thinking? Does he intend to prop that wastrel up to power?”

A high-ranking family member in the crowd indignantly spoke up.

“A wastrel?”

Upon hearing this, the Marquis’s sharp, hawk-like gaze shot toward the speaker.

Noticing the menacing glare from the family head, the man stammered nervously, “He… he was stripped of his Divine Factor, so logically, he should no longer have any chance of becoming an Extraordinary. Isn’t that…”

“Also a Second-Rank, Eunice, with all the resources our family poured into cultivating her, possessed strength that ranked among the top of her tier.” Marquis Mosgra stared at the man, gritting his teeth as he spoke. “And yet, even so, she wasn’t a match for that boy, not even for a single exchange.”

“And bear in mind, it has only been a little over a year since he was stripped of his Divine Factor.”

“A wastrel? Say that one more time, and see what happens.”

The atmosphere instantly grew tense.

Among the crowd, several young Extraordinaries, confident in their own strength, wore expressions of indifference.

In their eyes, Lynn’s audacious actions had surely relied on the monstrous Third Princess. On his own, they thought, Lynn likely wouldn’t stand a chance against any one of them.

Seeing these ignorant fools, Marquis Mosgra nearly passed out from rage.

The family’s rapid expansion and success in the capital over the past few years had bred a group of pampered, useless incompetents.

Even at this point, they were still deceiving themselves with excuses like “luck” or “I could’ve done it too.”

Utterly… irredeemably foolish!

The Marquis’s chest heaved with rage as his cold gaze swept across everyone in the room.

He was just about to speak when someone else interrupted him.

“Master Marquis, in my opinion, the most important matter now isn’t revenge but establishing contact with Miss Irina as soon as possible. No matter what happens to the family, as long as the eldest lady stands firm, we’ll always have a chance to turn things around.”

Hearing this, the Marquis’s expression softened slightly.

It seemed there was at least one sensible person in the family.

“I just received word,” the Marquis said, taking out an opened letter and handing it casually to a nearby family member. “Last night, Irina left her military fortress alone and launched a decapitation strike on the Demon Tribe’s Fifth Legion.”

“Though she didn’t fully succeed, she managed to sever the arm of their commander, ‘Erkas,’ and withdrew safely.”

“That commander, a demon on the verge of advancing to the Sixth Rank, is nicknamed the ‘Butcher’ and ranks tenth on the Empire’s Most Wanted list—far more dangerous than that Xiya Asolant.”

“Irina mentioned in her letter that she intends to settle all the injustices our family has suffered once she returns to the capital.”

“But until then, everyone is to remain silent, no matter what happens.”

“Understood!”

With Irina’s promise, the crowd’s spirits were lifted.

Seeing this, Marquis Mosgra’s expression eased. “Now that everyone understands, get to it.”

“As for Eunice… keep the funeral low-profile. Apart from the few families we’ve always been close with, don’t inform anyone else.”

The Marquis issued his instructions one by one.

But upon hearing his words, a fleeting look of malice appeared on the veiled noblewoman’s tear-streaked face.

She was Eunice and Dallion’s biological mother—but not Irina’s.

As the eldest daughter of the Mosgra family, Irina had been born long before the veiled noblewoman married into the family. From the start, the stepmother and stepdaughter had clashed incessantly.

Watching her stepdaughter grow more accomplished by the day, a certain emotion—jealousy—began to take root deep in the veiled noblewoman’s heart.

Now, with everything that had transpired, the negative feelings she had suppressed for so long finally erupted.

Her daughter had been murdered, yet the family had no plans for vengeance. Instead, they were placing their hopes on a younger generation and shrinking away under Irina’s command like cowards?

Even her daughter’s funeral arrangements were being constrained.

As a mother, and as a member of the Mosgra family, when had she ever endured such humiliation?

If none of you will seek vengeance, then I will take it upon myself!

...

The following evening.

As the carriage slowly came to a stop at the gates of Princess Shirina’s estate, Lynn instinctively looked up and glanced across.

At that moment, Yveste, wearing her familiar black-patterned mask, was silently gazing out the window. Her long hair, carefully styled, fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a black, form-fitting gown that hugged her flawless, porcelain skin, with dainty feet clad in lace-up heels peeking out from beneath the hem, swinging gently.

Since the events of the previous night, Lynn hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning in bed.

Throughout the day, he had attempted several times to approach Yveste to ask her about it, only to be turned away by the butler, Kesha.

“Her Highness doesn’t wish to see you,” Kesha had told him.

Impossible.

For so long, he had been subjected to Yveste’s fiery and relentless advances, to the point where he had come to regard it as normal deep down.

Though he always feigned reluctance, he had, in truth, grown accustomed to it—being entangled with her passionate embrace had become routine.

Though they had never gone all the way, Lynn was certain of one thing.

If he put on a pitiful act, pleaded with her for affection, and threw in a few disparaging remarks about the Witch, Yveste would undoubtedly pounce on him, breaking through the final barrier between them.

As a man, and someone carrying the heavy responsibility of saving the Witch, Lynn’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to engage in such a scummy act.

What’s more, if he really did go down that path, he would be tied to her for life.

This was the source of the deep conflict in his heart.

And then, there was the Recording Stone he had found last night. That discovery had thrown his thoughts into complete chaos.

For the longest time, he had regarded the Witch as his guiding light, the object of his unwavering faith. After all, it was she who had extended a hand to him at his lowest point and granted him unparalleled power.

Though he had the system to assist him, Lynn was well aware that no other deity would ever accept someone like him, a Forsaken One.

He had always wanted to repay her for her kindness.

From confronting the Divine Order Church’s repeated schemes to risking his life by approaching the female characters surrounding the original male protagonist—these actions were not just born of the pride of a transmigrator, but also from a subtle admiration for that aloof figure.

But what had he seen on that Recording Stone last night?

That his memories had been tampered with?

The realization brought a faint trace of confusion to Lynn’s eyes.

If his memories had been altered, then judging by the dialogue and scenes in the recording, the truth became glaringly obvious.

It turned out that he had met Her Highness the Princess before he ever encountered the Witch. And through some inexplicable hypnosis technique, an unexpectedly close relationship had developed between them.

If that were true, then it was no wonder they kept claiming he had lost parts of his memory.

He had assumed it was just a normal side effect of the Level-0 Sealed Artifact riot—nothing too important, even if amnesia was involved.

But now? He was learning that it might have been the Witch’s doing.

Lynn took a deep breath.

If this were true, then why? Why would the Witch alter his memories? What benefit could this possibly bring to a high and mighty deity?

Furthermore, the placement of that stone seemed a bit deliberate.

It was understandable that the Witch hadn’t noticed it. To her, it was no different from an ant by the roadside. Unless she was actively searching for it, she wouldn’t give it any attention.

Not to mention, her presence here was merely a wisp of consciousness descended into this world. The vessel Lynn had provided her was only a Second-Rank body.

Given these conditions, the fact that she could defeat Yveste, a Sixth-Rank Demigod, was already impressive enough for Lynn to inwardly cheer, “The Witch is incredible!”

But what truly puzzled Lynn was Her Highness the Princess.

The stone was likely deliberately placed there by Yveste.

Moreover, the recording on it was suspiciously selective—only showing what was advantageous to her, painting her as a pitiable victim who just wanted to reclaim her “beloved pet.”

Lynn had to admit he was somewhat moved by the sorrow Yveste displayed in the recording, even feeling a bit soft-hearted.

But with her level of skill and cunning, such behavior came off as calculated—like she was steering him toward thoughts unfavorable to the Witch.

And yet, if the idea of memory alteration was true, why hadn’t the Witch denied it?

Was it her pride as a powerful being that made her disdain lying?

Moreover, if everything that had transpired last night had been part of Yveste’s deliberate setup, why hadn’t she capitalized on his shock after seeing the recording? Why hadn’t she fed him anti-Witch rhetoric while he was vulnerable?

On the contrary, she had refused to even see him afterward.

If not for the prior banquet invitation from the Grand Princess Shirina, Lynn wouldn’t even be sitting in the same carriage as Yveste now.

At this moment, the two of them were heading to the banquet as a pair—him as her escort, and her as his partner.

And yet, despite this arrangement, when Lynn had tried testing the waters with casual conversation earlier, her responses had been lukewarm at best.

Under normal circumstances, Her Highness would have likely already pinned him to his seat for a breath-stealing kiss lasting several minutes.

“Tsk.”

What a mess.

Lynn sighed almost imperceptibly.

Though it was barely audible, it didn’t escape Yveste’s keen ears.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Her maneuvering had yielded excellent results, after all.

But this alone wasn’t enough.

With that in mind, Yveste suddenly pulled out a handkerchief, raising it to her mouth as she coughed lightly.

When she drew the handkerchief away, faint spots of crimson began to bloom on the pristine white fabric.

Her expression remained stoic, though her complexion grew noticeably paler.

She didn’t say a word and quietly tucked the handkerchief back into her pocket, as if trying to hide it from Lynn.

But they were in the same carriage.

No matter how she tried to conceal it, there was no way Lynn wouldn’t notice.

Watching Yveste silently stash away the bloodstained handkerchief before gazing out the window with her usual cold demeanor, an inexplicable pang of pity arose within Lynn’s heart.

Why do I feel sorry for her?

Realizing his lapse, Lynn clenched his fists tightly.

The atmosphere grew silent and heavy.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, Lynn suddenly stood up, taking two steps forward to place his hands on Yveste’s slender shoulders.

“Your Highness, what’s wrong with you?”

His expression was serious as he looked at Yveste, soon noticing the traces of blood on her lips.

Hesitating briefly, he reached out his thumb, intending to wipe it away.

Feeling Lynn’s concern, Yveste’s heartbeat accelerated rapidly.

But for the sake of her carefully laid plans, she suppressed the urge to embrace him.

Not only that, Yveste forced herself to adopt a cold demeanor, even going so far as to block Lynn’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t act so intimate with me.” Her voice was distant. “If your beloved Witch finds out, she might cause trouble for me again.”

“And as you’ve seen, I’m no match for her.”

“As for you, there’s no need to put on this pitiful act of concern.”

“After all... no one likes a loser.”

Yveste’s gaze didn’t even linger on Lynn as she spoke.

Lynn frowned.

He could somewhat understand her sentiment.

It was like in a matriarchal lion pride—two lionesses fighting tooth and claw to secure the right to mate with an adolescent lion.

Crass as the comparison might be, the situation wasn’t all that different.

Both Her Highness the Princess and the Witch possessed immense pride—manifesting in different ways, but fundamentally the same.

Now, Yveste had evidently lost this battle. She was not only gravely injured but also emotionally deflated, as if admitting defeat and surrendering something she cherished.

Even if the Witch didn’t actively claim victory, the humiliation of this defeat would be etched into Yveste’s heart.

At least, that’s how it appeared from Lynn’s perspective.

With that in mind, the urge to question Yveste about the Recording Stone faded significantly.

But to his surprise, Yveste was the one who brought it up.

She extended her right hand, palm up, toward Lynn.

Seeing this, he thought she wanted to hold hands and instinctively clasped her soft, delicate hand.

Does he think I’m asking for a handshake? How adorable!

Yveste subtly pressed her legs together, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. With the mask concealing her face, however, Lynn failed to notice the slight shift in her demeanor.

She quickly shook off his hand, cleared her throat lightly, and said in an indifferent tone, “Hand me that Recording Stone.”

Lynn froze, startled that she would bring up the topic so directly.

He had assumed the stone was merely a means for her to smear the Witch’s reputation.

But now? What was this about?

For a moment, Lynn felt a confusion unlike anything he’d experienced before.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

Yveste’s calm voice broke through his thoughts, and he finally snapped back to reality. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the stone and placed it in her palm.

Without hesitation, Yveste crushed the Recording Stone into fine powder.

“You’ve seen the contents on it, haven’t you?” she asked casually.

Lynn remained silent for a moment before nodding. “Your Highness, the contents on that stone… what were they, really?”

Given Yveste’s personality, even if the recordings were fabricated, she would likely double down and insist they were real, forcing him to believe her.

But what came next caught Lynn completely off guard.

“Fake,” Yveste admitted calmly, openly acknowledging everything. “The footage was forged by me. It was originally meant to smear that b*tch, but since I’ve already lost to her, little tricks like this are useless.”

“Besides, don’t tell me you couldn’t figure out its authenticity on your own?”

“After all, I, the Princess, have always been nothing more than a despicable and unscrupulous villain.”

She casually brushed back the strands of meticulously styled hair from her ear as she spoke.

She’s lying.

The footage on that Recording Stone was real.

Almost instantly, the Lie Eater ability within Lynn activated, revealing the hidden lie.

His expression grew complicated.

To him, Yveste’s current demeanor screamed stubborn pride.

It was as if she couldn’t bear to lose both the fight and her dignity to the Witch. So, she was forcing herself to endure the pain, ripping open her own wounds and parading them around as if she didn’t care.

But the more she denied the authenticity of the footage, the more she devalued herself in front of him, and the deeper Lynn’s doubts about the Witch grew.

Could it be... she really did alter his memories?

That his first meeting was with Yveste, not the Witch?