Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 72: Lynn! What Have You Done?!

Orne City was a melting pot of faiths, where the doctrines of many gods managed to take root and spread.

Although their teachings often clashed and the churches were rife with conflicts, one principle was universally upheld:

Every deity, when writing their scriptures, would guide their followers to be kind and generous.

This served as a positive reinforcement of human nature, ensuring that order could persist and that the power of faith the gods received would remain pure.

As the final banner was hung by the Augusta family guards, everyone present fell into silence.

Though they still couldn’t figure out why these people chose to organize a donation drive so publicly, the sight stirred an urge in many of the churchgoers present.

After a long pause, an elderly man, walking with difficulty, slowly approached.

From his pocket, he retrieved a handful of small copper coins, intending to drop them into the glass box designated for the Divine Order Church.

Just as the old man was about to tiptoe and place his savings into the box, a guard stepped forward.

“Sorry, sir,” the guard said politely, “we don’t accept donations from regular believers.”

The old man froze for a few seconds. “W-why not?”

“Because Master Lynn said he doesn’t take money from the poor,” the guard explained curtly.

After escorting the old man away, the guard, perhaps fearing that the distant crowd hadn’t heard, loudly reiterated:

“If anyone wishes to donate, they must provide deeds to at least three properties within Orne City or proof of an annual income exceeding 5,000 gold coins!”

This statement left everyone stunned.

In previous donation drives, every effort was made to squeeze money from people’s pockets.

But this time, it was the complete opposite.

Not only were their donations declined, but proof of substantial wealth was also required?

How bizarre.

A strange emotion arose collectively in the crowd.

Still, the herd mentality prevailed, and after satisfying their curiosity about the commotion at Municipal Square, the crowd gradually dispersed.

Despite it being a rest day, many left to continue their struggle for a living, driven by the need to put bread and milk on the table for their families.

Soon, the once-bustling square was left with only a handful of onlookers.

By late afternoon, hours had passed uneventfully.

Every so often, devout followers who happened to pass by the banners felt compelled to donate, only to be turned away for their impoverished circumstances.

As a result, by evening, all twelve glass boxes in the square stood empty, as quiet and unremarkable as if they had never been part of a bustling city.

Yet, in reality, the day’s events had spread like wildfire.

Within just one night, word of the Augusta family and Duke Tyrius joining forces to raise funds for disabled soldiers had become the talk of the town.

And the intended donors? The local nobility and churches.

“They held another donation drive? And did it publicly again?”

Inside the Divine Order Church, Bishop Mozel was stunned upon hearing his subordinate’s report.

“Yes, and they also hung up several banners.”

The subordinate proceeded to recount the slogans displayed on the banners.

Mozel instinctively stood, pacing the room as he mulled over the situation.

After a while, a cold sneer appeared on his face.

“So, this whole charade was just for this? I overestimated them.”

“Heh, Tyrius, you and your people don’t seriously think you can rob us of our money with this little stunt, do you?”

“Fools!”

“Notify the surrounding churches: if they still want a share of the pie, now is the time to set aside grudges and rivalries.”

“This is an offensive move by Duke Tyrius. If we don’t push back decisively—and painfully—our future leverage will suffer.”

“Tell them it’s not just a request from me but a demand.”

“Any church or noble who dares donate to this absurd event will henceforth be the Divine Order Church’s sworn enemy!”

Days passed swiftly.

Four days later, the donation drive in Municipal Square remained a hot topic, its buzz showing no signs of dying down.

Instead, it had become the subject of explosive gossip, cropping up daily in conversations across the city.

Large crowds regularly passed through the square, pausing to stare curiously at the glass boxes.

Because… it was simply too strange.

Even after four days, the boxes marked for the various churches contained not a single coin.

It was as if all the churches had collectively chosen silence.

To those without faith, this wasn’t particularly shocking, and some even saw it as Duke Tyrius shooting himself in the foot.

But to most believers, this move seemed to carry deeper implications.

“Let’s see which religion is truly the kindest and most generous.”

Ironically, the donation boxes below the banners remained utterly empty.

The stark contrast left a deep impression.

Every time followers of various faiths saw the words on the banner, a vague sense of unease crept into their hearts, prompting them to leave hastily, almost as if fleeing.

When they later brought up the subject during prayers and confessions at their respective churches, the clergy would invariably respond with cryptic and evasive expressions.

Unbeknownst to most, an undercurrent began to stir within Orne City.

Meanwhile, the instigator of this entire affair was leisurely enjoying afternoon tea in the garden.

Lynn reclined comfortably, sipping hot red tea as the sun bathed him in warmth.

The past few days had been delightfully tranquil, thanks in no small part to Yveste.

She didn’t seem to possess any exceptional leadership qualities, but one thing she excelled at was delegating authority.

To fulfill her agreement with Duke Tyrius, Yveste had generously granted Lynn complete control over the estate’s operations.

As for herself, she had been conspicuously absent.

Since the night of her private discussion with Duke Tyrius in the study, Yveste had been consumed by some unknown task.

She was often nowhere to be found in the estate, and on the rare occasions she returned to rest, she appeared haggard and weary.

There was even one instance when Lynn noticed fresh blood smeared on her face that she hadn’t bothered to wipe off.

It was hard to say who the unlucky victims of her endeavors were.

Afia, Morris, and the others were similarly scarce these days.

Only Greya, ever the idler, stayed around to keep Lynn company and entertain him.

“Next, I’ll show you a magic trick that’ll leave men utterly baffled,” Greya said with a grin.

“What kind of trick?”

“Success.”

As Lynn watched Greya’s face darken, he burst out laughing.

Just then, Kesha, the butler, approached from behind and spoke softly, “Master Lynn, Duke Tyrius has arrived.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Lynn replied lazily.

“Don’t you dare!”

Before he could react, Duke Tyrius’s bellow echoed behind him.

Turning, Lynn saw the burly, broad-shouldered man storming toward him, his face clouded with anger. It was evident that the duke was in a foul mood.

Uh-oh.

Caught slacking.

Lynn hastily set down his delicate bone china teacup. “Good afternoon, Your Grace!”

“Good? Good, my a**!” Duke Tyrius snapped.

“Come on now, let’s hear it. What exactly have you been up to these past few days?!”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!