Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

“The reason I sealed a small part of your memory is also tied to this trial,” the Witch said softly, her calm gaze fixed on Lynn.

“What kind of trial?” Lynn asked, sensing a slight heaviness in the air. His expression grew serious.

To be honest, the previous trials set by the Witch had seemed rather trivial to him.

Destroying the faith of the Divine Order Church, hunting down the Extraordinary, or even pleasing Her Highness, the Princess, to escape from her side—none of these tasks had presented any significant challenge for him.

Of course, this was by his own standards.

For an average Extraordinary, those trials would have been comparable to the difficulty of a Second-Rank task or higher.

Now, however, with the Witch taking the initiative to propose a new trial, Lynn couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. Perhaps the real challenge was about to begin.

The Witch noticed Lynn’s gaze but didn’t immediately answer his question. Instead, she lowered her head slightly, her attention drawn to the chains binding her body.

Though most of the chains that once restrained her had shattered, a few stubbornly remained.

These chains hadn’t even shown the slightest crack during the fate-defying inertia Lynn had unleashed.

It was as if these Chains of Order possessed a divinity and strength far surpassing the gods of the Pantheon.

Lynn had noticed this as well.

Thanks to absorbing the core traits of the Wishing Jar in place of Her Highness, he had ensured that she—ten millennia ago—neither required slumber nor was hindered by the traits of the Demon of Creation or the Sealed Artifact.

After all, her growth rate was essentially as if she were “cheating.”

Thinking along these lines, it seemed her slumber in the original story had been the World’s Will adjusting the narrative flow.

If Yveste grew too quickly, Hero Xiya would struggle to keep pace, creating a mismatch in strength.

Thus, the World’s Will arranged for Yveste to endure a slumbering fate to allow the protagonist group time to catch up.

But now, that balance had been disrupted.

This meant that Yveste was bound to become far stronger at this point than she had been in the original story.

Although a time span of ten thousand years was vast enough for such deviations to gradually correct themselves, they couldn’t be entirely erased.

For the Witch, sealed here and locked in a stalemate with the gods, even the slightest boost in power could tip the scales in her favor.

After all, the gods in the latter stages of the original story weren’t particularly formidable; otherwise, they wouldn’t have needed to band together.

Thus, Lynn could see that most of the chains binding the Witch had already vanished.

However, there was still a long way to go before she could truly break free.

The entire Pantheon itself was one colossal seal, and the Chains of Order were merely one part of its intricate layers.

For now, though, Lynn’s focus turned to the remaining Chains of Order wrapped around her body.

He had a faint inkling of their significance.

The Witch slowly raised her hand, her fingertips lightly brushing over the chains, as if feeling their cold texture.

Then her hand hovered over her pale, slender neck.

It was there, fastened with one of the chains.

Under Lynn’s watchful eyes, the Witch’s delicate fingers tightened as if trying to crush the Chain of Order.

Yet it remained unyielding, utterly unshaken.

The surrounding temperature seemed to drop without anyone noticing.

Lynn instinctively pulled his cloak tighter around himself, only to realize that her crimson eyes were now gazing directly at him.

“This Chain of Order comes from my sister, Shirina, who is destined to become the Mother of All Living Beings and the ruler of the universe’s feminine forces.” ṞÃＮΟꞖĘṨ

Her voice was calm, lacking the icy malice or hatred Yveste might have displayed when mentioning her enemies.

In fact... it was almost too composed.

She paused briefly, then gently held her right wrist, revealing another chain.

“This Chain of Order belongs to Tia, the second-generation Moon Goddess.”

Next, she lifted one of her small, pale feet from beneath her tattered black gown, revealing a delicate ankle and soft pink sole.

Food-grade perfection... Lynn almost wanted to joke, but the seriousness of the moment made such thoughts impossible.

“This chain around my ankle comes from Lilith, the Queen of the Aberrant.”

“And this one...”

One by one, she displayed the remaining Chains of Order binding her, explaining their origins with meticulous detail.

It was as if she were merely an observer, yet Lynn couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath her calm gaze lay a deep and oppressive weight.

Also, these names... they sounded way too familiar.

Weren’t these the most vividly depicted heroines in the original story?

Lynn suddenly had a realization.

“As you can see,” the Witch finally said, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt after the display, “these are the last few shackles restricting my freedom.”

“And your task is to help me break them, one by one.”

Lynn took a deep breath upon hearing this. “So, what exactly do I need to do?”

In that instant, a flash of overwhelming killing intent swept over him.

It was so intense that he broke into a cold sweat, as if he’d suddenly found himself in a hellish landscape of corpses and blood.

The Witch turned her gaze toward him.

Within her crimson eyes burned a flame that seemed eternal, one named hatred.

Though she often emphasized the distinction between herself at different points in time, at this moment, Lynn couldn’t help but feel her presence overlapping with the image of the villainous princess etched in his memory.

Memories could be updated, but one’s essence was not so easily altered.

Even after ten thousand years of refinement, transforming her into someone cold and detached, far from her past extremes of madness and fury, deep down, she was still Yveste.

The Witch harbored a fire of hatred that would never extinguish, one that grew fiercer with time. One day, that flame would ignite both herself and the entire world.

Lynn’s heartbeat quickened.

It was happening.

Since Yveste had taken him under her wing, he had long anticipated this moment.

As the right-hand man of the villainous faction, he knew he was destined to clash with Xiya Asolant, the male protagonist of the original story, and the numerous heroines depicted alongside him.

This was the last thing he wanted.

But life rarely followed his plans.

Somehow, he had become so deeply intertwined with both Yveste and the Witch that there was no turning back.

Sensing the oppressive emotions hidden beneath the Witch’s gaze, Lynn felt a chill run down his spine.

For the villainous princess Yveste, her feelings toward Shirina were likely nothing more than jealousy and hatred—natural for someone who had only lived 23 years.

But for the Witch, those minor grievances, coupled with all the future pain and despair she endured, had fermented over ten thousand years into something far more insidious.

Think about it.

The hatred from being impaled by the Holy Sword and nailed to the walls of Stillwater Dungeon for centuries alone was enough to haunt someone forever.

If it had been Lynn in her place, he would’ve wanted to flay his enemies alive, drink their blood, and eat their flesh.

And that was just one instance among many in ten thousand years.

The blood-deep vengeance within her couldn’t even be described in words.

She hated.

She sought revenge.

During the countless years of her imprisonment in the Pantheon, she endured endless torment and agony.

And now, she had found hope.

Unlike Yveste’s violent and extreme ways of expressing emotion, the Witch’s hatred was subdued, repressed.

Her pale, slender fingers clenched tightly as if to crush the seething hatred that had momentarily risen to the surface.

Then, as if snapping back to her composed, noble demeanor, she returned to being the Witch—aloof and elegant.

“Apologies,” she said softly. “Did I scare you?”

Lynn shook his head, signaling his understanding.

He spoke again. “Witch, if I need to break these chains, does that mean I must affect them in the current timeline?”

“Precisely,” she replied, stepping gracefully down the stairs until she stood before him. “You are an ‘anomaly,’ someone fundamentally incompatible with this world.”

“And through my recent observations, I’ve confirmed something.”

“Not only I, but Shirina and the others as well—thanks to your presence as an anomaly—are fated to have their destinies altered.”

“The timeline you’re currently in, the Succession Ceremony, has just begun. There’s a ten-thousand-year gap between now and my era.”

“At this moment, Shirina, the others, and even Hero Xiya are still weak.”

“They’re far less established than they will be in ten thousand years, meaning their fates are more malleable?” Lynn interjected, catching on quickly.

In other words, it would be far easier to increase the storyline deviation now.

He suddenly understood.

Perhaps only changing Yveste’s destiny was the wrong move.

Even if her storyline deviation hit the maximum, the Witch’s progress would only rise by 10%.

The remaining 90% likely hinged on those other major characters tied to the original narrative.

After all, Her Highness wasn’t the only S-tier storyline character in this world.

“Do I need to kill them?” Lynn asked, feigning ignorance even though he knew the answer.

The Witch’s response would determine his path forward.

Given the existence of the World’s Will, Lynn had no doubt that if he genuinely attempted to kill the original heroines while they were still weak, even just harboring the thought would provoke the world’s corrective forces.

Unimaginable consequences would ensue.

A Fifth-Rank Legend, a Sixth-Rank Demigod, or someone even more powerful could suddenly appear and strike him down without warning.

Even with Yveste’s protection, he doubted he would survive.

Moreover, in this world, Divine Descent was real.

If things spiraled out of control, it wouldn’t be surprising if a god descended and crushed him with a single blow.

So, killing those main characters from the original story was absolutely out of the question.

Fortunately, the Witch seemed to have never entertained such a reckless idea.

“Fate is not so easily altered,” the Witch remarked, her gaze calm as she glanced at Lynn. “Moreover, as I mentioned earlier, I will not allow you to take on dangerous tasks in the future.”

“Your life no longer belongs solely to you—it belongs to me as well.”

Lynn let out a subtle sigh of relief. “Then what should I do?”

The Witch didn’t answer immediately.

She slowly raised her wrist, and with a familiar ripple of spatial energy, a conical spike glowing faintly with dark energy materialized in her palm.

The spike, about the size of a hand, had a handle at the top. Though it resembled a weapon, its aura carried a sickening, dizzying sense of malevolence.

“This is a Sealed Artifact called the Mark of Corruption,” the Witch said, tossing the spike into Lynn’s arms. “Its sole purpose is to etch an indelible mark on others.”

“Once marked, the individual will be unknowingly subjected to mental corruption, gradually turning into a puppet of the artifact’s wielder.”

Feeling the cold, sinister touch of the Mark of Corruption, Lynn instinctively sensed trouble.

Surely, she couldn’t mean...

The Witch’s eyes gleamed faintly as if catching his unspoken thought. “You guessed correctly.”

“This artifact can only be used when the target has opened their heart completely.”

“So, once you return to the Imperial Capital, I want you to approach Shirina and the others. Gain their trust, make them let down their guard entirely.”

“And then...” The Witch’s voice paused for a moment, her gaze flickering, “use the Mark of Corruption to turn them into your obedient slaves.”

Her tone was calm, but Lynn could feel the intense turmoil within her words.

He took a deep breath.

Even ten thousand years hadn’t dulled the Witch’s twisted and extreme emotions. Instead, her unresolved hatred had grown even more profound over time.

“Is this your revenge against them?” Lynn asked softly.

The Witch slowly lifted her gaze, as if looking past the ceiling of the Pantheon and across the boundaries of time, focusing on some distant existence.

“Revenge against them?” she replied faintly. “Perhaps.”

“But that is not my primary purpose.”

Her voice carried a subtle undercurrent, leaving Lynn momentarily speechless as he gazed at her incomparably beautiful figure.

After a pause, she spoke again. “Who do you think I, having been imprisoned here for tens of thousands of years, hate the most?”

A name instantly surfaced in Lynn’s mind.

The one who had repeatedly destroyed her plans, defeated her countless times, and ultimately sealed her in this place to endure millennia of loneliness and despair.

The true culprit.

And the male protagonist of the original story...

“Xiya Asolant.”

“Correct.”

The corner of the Witch’s lips curved slightly.

“Imagine this: the future Mother of All Living Beings, the pure and radiant Moon Goddess—what happens when such lofty, untouchable figures become nothing more than slaves who obey another man’s every word? Wouldn’t that be the most profound, most perfect revenge against the shining, powerful Hero Xiya?”

In an instant, Lynn felt an overwhelming and chilling aura emanate from her.

It was so heavy, so oppressive.

Yet, at this moment, the Witch’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“So, my sole believer, I leave this matter... in your hands.”

Can I refuse?

Lynn felt sweat trickling down his back.

But he also understood.

If Her Highness, the Princess, was obsessed with winning the Succession Ceremony, then revenge was the Witch’s very reason for existence.

It was her sole purpose for living, forged and reinforced over ten thousand years. Nothing, and no one, could sway her from it.

Thus, he could only accept.

The silver lining was that this point in the timeline still lay in the early stages of the original story. Xiya and the heroines had barely interacted, with some of them not even having met him yet.

This reduced the difficulty considerably—for now.

But a nagging question lingered in Lynn’s mind.

“Witch, there’s something I still don’t understand,” he said, looking at the black-dressed woman who had returned to her calm demeanor. “What’s the connection between this trial and sealing my memories?”

The Witch replied softly, “If you were to return openly, you’d never have the chance to move freely again for the rest of your life.”

What the f**k?

A chill ran down Lynn’s spine.

But recalling the hint of pleading he’d seen in Yveste’s eyes before he’d faked his death, it all made sense.

Given that woman’s obsessive and pathological possessiveness, experiencing the pain of loss might only make her even more extreme.

If Yveste were to experience the joy of regaining something she thought she had lost, how would things unfold?

She’d likely leash her most beloved “puppy” with a dozen chains, keeping him tethered to her side, never letting him out of her sight.

That was absolutely the kind of thing that insane woman would do.

D*** it.

In the end, it’s my handsome looks that doomed me, Lynn thought bitterly, gritting his teeth.

But on the other hand, would sealing his memories really grant him more freedom from Yveste?

Lynn couldn’t quite wrap his head around the reasoning.

From his perspective, it seemed more likely that things would spiral into utter chaos—or even end in tragedy.

Still, he couldn’t claim to fully understand the thoughts of these two women, nor did he feel qualified to judge them.

After all, this was the Witch’s plan, and she undoubtedly knew herself far better than he ever could.

Perhaps sensing the confusion in Lynn’s heart, the Witch fell silent for a moment before offering a quiet explanation:

“She... needs a chance to re-evaluate you.”

“If you wish to evolve from a mere ‘dog’ into a ‘man,’ this is a necessary step.”

Her voice was cold and detached, as though she were describing someone completely unrelated to herself.

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