Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 127: Sorry, I Belong to the Witch

The idea of clashing across the River of Time was nothing more than a fantasy, nearly impossible to achieve.

Even though Yveste was monstrously powerful, at this moment, she was still a patient who relied on a wheelchair to move.

The terrifying aura left behind from their brief confrontation earlier gradually dissipated as time went on.

In the dimly lit room, everything began to settle into silence. Yet, Lynn’s plan was far from over.

Tonight, he intended to heal Yveste’s deepest scars completely.

“She... what kind of person is she?”

After a long pause, Yveste’s trembling voice broke the silence, asking softly.

Her tightly clenched, pale hands betrayed the turmoil in her heart.

“She’s you—the future you who has already become a god, beautiful and powerful,” Lynn said, leaning on Yveste’s lap as he gently stroked her delicate hands.

“Not only that, but she saved me—a man possessed by two great demons—from the brink of death.”

“Speaking of which, you and the future Witch are already quite similar, especially in your hair color.”

“Every time I see your calm expression, I can’t help but think of her.”

“Of course, there are subtle differences in things like your aura and gaze. For instance, the curse mark on your face—the future you seems to have broken free from its influence, becoming—”

“Shut up!”

Yveste suddenly covered her face and bowed her head deeply, screaming hysterically as if Lynn’s words had struck a nerve.

She forcefully shoved his hands away, seemingly desperate to push him as far from her as possible.

Yet in the next moment, as though battling a split personality, she pulled him tightly into her embrace, murmuring to herself like a hypnotic chant:

“You’re mine. You’ll always be mine... no one can take you away from me...”

Her silver teeth gently nipped at Lynn’s cheek and earlobe as her hot, sweet breath caressed his skin.

She planted kisses on him, as though branding him as her own by force.

But unknowingly, a glimmering tear slid down Yveste’s cheek. Her trembling breaths seemed to beg for this night’s events to fade from memory.

She hoped that when tomorrow came, her adorable "puppy" would still be lying on her bed, waiting for her to feed him as usual.

I’m sorry, Your Highness.

Feeling the intense unease radiating from her, Lynn wanted to embrace her, to comfort her.

But now was not the time for such things.

He suppressed the inexplicable guilt rising in his chest and steeled himself.

This isn’t enough.

If he wanted to completely cure Yveste of her inner affliction, there was only one path left to take:

He had to ignite her twisted jealousy and possessiveness.

Only by presenting her with a rival—a far superior, overwhelmingly powerful opponent—could he instill in her the sense of crisis and drive she needed to reclaim her former majesty as the imposing and resolute Princess.

Of course, this gamble carried the risk of utterly destroying both him and her.

But Lynn could wait no longer. This was his only option.

At that moment, amidst Yveste’s struggling and writhing, a Recording Stone suddenly slipped from her grasp.

Lynn instinctively picked up the small object.

In the next instant, a projection appeared in mid-air.

It displayed an image of him strapped to the Chair of Torment, his face twisted in pain.

It seemed Milanie had taken the opportunity to secretly record this scene while he was unconscious.

Next time, I’ll have to spank her hard for this, Lynn thought silently.

As he stared at his own agonized expression on the screen, mumbling something incomprehensible, Lynn furrowed his brows and fell into silence.

But Yveste seized the moment like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline.

“Look! Look!” she cried out desperately.

“This happened before you lost your memory! Listen carefully—whose name were you calling out?”

Lynn’s gaze shifted back to the projection.

“Your Highness,” the boy’s voice croaked, suppressing his pain as he uttered the title.

A glimmer of joy appeared in Yveste’s crimson eyes as she tightly gripped Lynn’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

But in the next moment, the boy on the screen spoke again, his lips forming another, barely discernible name.

A name that should have been incomprehensible and unnoticed.

But after everything that had just transpired, the two of them understood its true meaning instantly.

“Witch... Miss.”

For a moment, Yveste felt as if her heart had stopped beating. Then came a sharp, needle-like pain that made her breath hitch.

What had just unfolded before her eyes revealed only one thing:

He and that woman must have known each other long before now.

Perhaps… even before she did.

Blood trickled down Yveste’s pale skin, where her nails had already pierced through.

Seeing this, Lynn knew it was time to deliver the heaviest and most devastating blow of the night.

“Your Highness,” he began, his voice suddenly gentle, “it seems you’ve always thought of me as your pet. But I’m sorry to tell you—I’m a living, breathing human being, not some little dog to be toyed with at will.”

“I hope you can understand that.”

“Shut up!” Yveste cried out, unable to bear hearing him speak in such a tone. She instinctively reached out to cover his mouth. “Don’t… don’t say anything more.”

“Let’s pretend nothing that happened tonight was real... please?”

Her breath was uneven and trembling, her voice tinged with a faint note of pleading.

Gone was the imposing and dignified villainess Princess of the past; in her place was a lost little girl, devastated by the loss of something precious.

But Lynn ignored her resistance.

Like an unyielding executioner, he delivered his final judgment, ruthlessly striking at her nearly shattered spirit.

“Let’s take a step back,” he said coldly. “Even if I am just a dog—”

“—then I’d still be… the Witch’s dog.”

Within the Pantheon.

The Witch, shackled by countless chains, sat as always at the base of the grand staircase, quietly reading the book spread across her lap.

Her expression was utterly cold, like a glacier that had remained frozen for millennia.

No matter how intense the emotions, none seemed capable of stirring her in the slightest. Her entire being appeared wholly subsumed by divinity.

At least, that was how it should have been.

But in that moment, her crimson eyes lost focus for a fleeting instant, as though seized by a memory fragment that had traversed tens of millennia to reach her.

The faint disarray in her gaze and the slight quickening of her breath betrayed her inner turmoil.

After a brief pause, she slowly closed her eyes.

To hide her shaken expression, she lifted the book from her lap and lightly used it to shield her face.

Time passed—how much, no one could say.

In the eternally silent hall, a soft murmur echoed faintly.

“…So cute.”