Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 170: All You Need to Do Is Trust Me

Plot deviation... decreased?

When Lynn heard the system notification in his ear, he froze on the spot.

This was something he had never encountered since his transmigration.

It meant that the thread of fate, which had originally deviated, had now been forcibly pulled back onto its predetermined track, likely due to the intervention of the World’s Will or some other intangible force.

A chill ran down Lynn’s spine.

If the plot deviation could be reduced, did that mean everything he was doing was ultimately meaningless?

Could it be that the World’s Will, by not punishing him with some overwhelming, dimension-lowering strike for altering Yveste’s fate or raising Tiya’s plot deviation, was simply mocking him, a mere “impurity”?

No—that couldn’t be right. The World’s Will was like a program. It wasn’t supposed to have emotions or thoughts like a person.

Lynn took a deep breath, suppressing the unease rising in his chest. Slowly, he reached out and grasped Yveste’s slender, cold hand.

It seemed the plot deviation had shifted when Yveste was about to act against the Enforcers.

Although he didn’t understand the exact mechanism, the first priority was to calm her down.

Interlocking their fingers as if they were lovers, Lynn held her hand tightly.

In an instant, the overwhelming aura of a Sixth-Rank Demigod—terrifying like a collapsing skyscraper—vanished into thin air. The crimson Extraordinary power that had suffused the air disappeared, and the suffocating killing intent that had everyone trembling faded like smoke.

A faint blush appeared on Yveste’s cheeks. She didn’t say anything, but her fingers lightly tightened around his hand in response, as if to silently reassure him: Don’t be afraid. Your master is here.

Seeing that Yveste had regained her composure, the Enforcer Squad remained rooted to their positions, their expressions solemn. No one dared to step forward.

Lynn exhaled softly in relief, his mind already racing.

The reduction in plot deviation must have been the result of a correction by the World’s Will.

Was it triggered because he intervened in the original female protagonist’s actions, prompting the World’s Will to react?

Or was it because Yveste’s previously high plot deviation of 12.07% had already begun to disrupt the main storyline, potentially derailing the entire Imperial Capital arc?

On closer thought, the latter seemed more likely.

After all, the Imperial Capital arc was still early-to-mid in the novel, with most of the power levels focused below Fifth Rank.

Aside from the hidden, semi-retired Sixth-Rank demigods held in reserve by the major churches and the enigmatic Seventh-Rank Saints who had never shown themselves, Fifth-Rank Legends were already considered top-tier combatants.

In the original storyline, Yveste was so overpowered in this arc that she was forcibly written out of the plot.

Ultimately, the intervention of the World’s Will in lowering the plot deviation was likely to address this imbalance caused by her current unsuppressed presence.

A Sixth-Rank Demigod was simply too much of a game-breaking existence. How could the plot move forward with her around?

Based on the change in the plot deviation, Lynn could deduce that if Yveste had killed the entire Enforcer Squad here, it would have triggered a series of chain reactions.

The end result of these reactions would likely have been something the World’s Will desired.

For example, it might force her to be written out of the story again, granting the original protagonists time to grow.

Alternatively, her power might be weakened in some way, rendering her far less dangerous than she originally was.

Neither of these outcomes was acceptable to Lynn.

He couldn’t let her act rashly.

Taking another deep breath, Lynn steadied his resolve.

It had only been two days since his return to the Imperial Capital, yet he could already feel the sheer malice directed at him from Glostein.

But so what?

He had never taken these fools seriously—neither before, nor now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go with you,” Lynn said softly, giving Yveste’s delicate hand a light squeeze before stepping forward. He extended his wrists toward the Enforcer holding the cold metal restraints.

“No!”

Yveste stepped forward in her crimson heels, grabbing Lynn’s wrist as she tried to stop him.

If the Enforcers took him away, he would undoubtedly be sent to some dark, sunless prison. Once there, he’d be at their mercy, and it was impossible to predict when—or if—he’d ever come out again.

Besides, Lynn couldn’t possibly be the "Grafting Butcher.” A simple investigation would reveal that.

Even the timeline didn’t align. Having just returned to the capital, he couldn’t have been connected to the series of murders.

To Yveste, Lynn’s decision to surrender himself was completely unnecessary.

She feared they might fabricate false charges against him, ensuring he would never escape their clutches.

But Lynn had already made up his mind.

To keep Yveste from jeopardizing herself and to maintain the plot deviation at a manageable level—ensuring the Witch’s story wouldn’t be derailed ten years down the line—this was something he had to do.

Noticing her intense anxiety and lack of a sense of security, Lynn smiled gently. He leaned close to her ear, lowering his voice to reassure her.

“Relax, Your Highness. I never do anything I’m not confident in.”

“Just like before, all you need to do is trust me, support me, and wait for me with hope.”

“However, there’s one thing you must remember. After I’m taken away, if anyone comes to you with demands, attempting to trade my freedom for something—no matter what it is—don’t agree to it.”

“Remember this. No matter what, do not give in.”

“Who was it?!”

The next morning, the furious roar of Marquis Mosgra echoed throughout the Mosgra Estate.

All the family members had gathered in the conference hall, their expressions grim.

The shattered remains of various antiques littered the floor, a testament to just how enraged their patriarch was.

No one dared to breathe too loudly, let alone provoke him.

It was clear that, after a night of brewing and escalating tension, the serial killings at the eldest princess’s estate had become the talk of Glostein, spreading uncontrollably.

The Mosgra Family was among the last to hear of it.

If not for someone casually mentioning, “Marquis, you’re quite quick to act,” as he went to the Council Hall that morning to handle military affairs, he might still have been in the dark.

After all, since receiving Eirina’s letter, the family had been keeping a low profile, feigning sorrow over their heir’s tragic demise.

But now, upon learning the full story, the Marquis felt his mind unraveling.

Assassinate Lynn?

What kind of fool would do something so idiotic?!

The grudge had only just been formed two days ago in the Council Hall, and that was in front of so many witnesses.

To retaliate so quickly—did they have no respect for His Majesty’s pardon or the Empire’s laws?

Did they think the nobles’ intricate web of negotiations and compromises was all for show?

People like Lynn, who were so brash and unrestrained, were rare. The road awaiting him was bound to be one of self-destruction.

The Marquis had understood this and had begrudgingly resolved to bide his time, refraining from immediate revenge.

But now, this reckless act had thrown all his plans into chaos.

Marquis Mosgra was 100% certain that the assassination attempt, which was so transparently stupid that even a child could identify its instigator, had been orchestrated by one of his own incompetent family members.

What infuriated him even more was the fact that the assassin had ties to demonic forces.

A year ago, before Lynn Bartleon was exiled, he had accused Eirina of colluding with demons, leading to the total annihilation of his squad.

That incident had caused quite the stir in the Imperial Capital, and it had taken Chief Justice Nidro’s ruling of “not guilty” to settle things.

Even so, the stain of those accusations had lingered on the Mosgra Family. The Marquis had been trying to scrub it clean ever since.

He had thought people had forgotten about it, but now, thanks to someone’s idiotic actions, the accusation had come back to haunt them.

How could he not be furious?

Among the family members, a flicker of guilt flashed in Eunice’s mother’s eyes as she subtly lowered her gaze.

At the same time, her heart was filled with indescribable sorrow.

Why? Why is that little bstard so hard to kill?*

When… When will my daughter’s vengeance finally be avenged?

The black-veiled noblewoman’s features twisted with grief as she clenched her fists tightly, keeping her head down in utter silence.

Just as despair began to overtake her, a sudden question broke through her thoughts, snapping her attention upward.

“Father... what should we do next? Should we clarify that this matter has nothing to do with the family?”

In the crowd, a middle-aged man hesitated for a long moment before breaking the silence, tentatively offering his suggestion.

“Fool!” Marquis Mosgra slammed the table with his fist, his voice thundering through the hall. “When have the nobles or the common folk ever been gullible enough to believe such nonsense?!”

In truth, at times, any attempt at denial or clarification only served as confirmation in the eyes of the public.

Hearing this, the middle-aged man’s face turned pale with embarrassment, and he said no more.

As Marquis Mosgra continued to pace back and forth in the meeting hall, his steps uneven, a heavy silence settled over the room.

It was unclear how much time had passed before he abruptly lifted his head, his eyes sharp and menacing, a ruthless glint flashing in their depths.

“At this point, the black mark on the Mosgra family is inevitable. There’s no way to shake it off.”

“In that case, we’ll see this through to the end.”

“I want that little b*stard… to truly die in prison.”

“Tiya, do you know? That maniac who killed Sister Trina—the so-called 'Grafting Butcher, Borchumann’—has finally been caught!”

“They say the suspect is some young man. When they found him, he was standing right at the crime scene, his chest soaked in blood, with what appeared to be a wound from the victim’s last desperate struggle.”

“From what I’ve heard… his name is Lynn Bartleon, or something like that.”

Thud!

“Oh dear, our Saintess seems awfully distracted today. You can’t even hold onto the scripture properly. Haha, what’s the matter? Are you thinking about a man?”

“You—what did you just say? What was his name?”

“Lynn Bartleon. You know, the guy who earned the nickname ‘Disgrace of the Nobility’ about a year ago and got exiled to the frontier.”

“Tiya, why is your face so pale? You look… strange.”

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