Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 86: Lynn, You Must Stay Alive

Please me?

Lynn froze for a few seconds before shaking his head internally. I'm no comedian. I’m the cold-blooded, decisive soldier type, not someone who’d stoop to groveling for laughs.

Besides, pleasing this emotionless Witch, who resembled a corpse more than a person, seemed far less likely than making Yveste fall in love with him. Sure, that madwoman didn’t understand love at all and only saw him as a toy or a pet, but even that seemed more achievable than dealing with the nihilistic detachment of the Witch.

Lynn didn’t believe for a second that he could leave a lasting impression on a god who had lived for 100,000 years.

Sensing his doubt, the Witch of the End turned around. As she lifted her tattered gown slightly, Lynn said nothing. At this moment, she exuded a fleeting elegance, temporarily shedding her divine aloofness. For a brief instant, she resembled the noble villainess princess she had once been.

“When I said to please ‘me,’ I wasn’t referring to the current me,” the Witch explained, her crimson eyes gazing down at him. “I meant the ‘me’ from your era.”

Oh, so that’s what she meant.

But this only left Lynn more perplexed. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing every day already?

It might feel a bit humiliating, but in a strict sense, it was true. Everything he had done recently—earning Yveste’s unprecedented trust, becoming her most relied-upon subordinate, gaining maximum freedom and authority—had been for the ultimate goal of escape. While building his strength in secret, he bided his time for the right moment to flee.

Lynn genuinely didn’t know what else he could do to “please” the lunatic Yveste.

He frowned and asked, “What’s the purpose of this trial?”

He couldn’t fathom why the Witch would suddenly urge him to win over her past self. It didn’t seem like something a god would do.

The Witch’s expression remained impassive. “You’ve always wanted to escape from the past, haven’t you?”

Lynn chuckled sheepishly but didn’t respond.

“On the last day before my return to the Imperial Capital, the ‘me’ of your era will receive a sudden mission,” she explained, adjusting her gown before sitting on the steps. “This mission... will take a long time to complete. Other than the personnel required for combat, everyone else will be sent back to the capital early.”

A mission?

Hope gleamed in Lynn’s eyes, like the first light of dawn signaling long-desired freedom. To Yveste and her entourage, Lynn was currently perceived as an Extraordinary devoted to “Holy Insight,” someone without combat ability. The odds of her taking him along seemed slim.

If that were the case...

“Save your wild fantasies for after you leave here,” the Witch interrupted coldly, seemingly reading his thoughts. “Do you really think the me of that time would let you escape so easily?”

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head, and Lynn’s hopeful expression crumbled.

She’s right.

Given Yveste’s suspicious nature, there was no way she’d let him go, knowing he had recently been scheming to escape. More importantly, Yveste was well aware that someone of his caliber, if returned to the capital, might be recruited by another prince—or, worse yet, by Shirina, her mortal enemy.

With that possibility in mind, there was virtually no chance she’d let him leave her side. A woman like Yveste would rather destroy something herself than let it fall into someone else’s hands.

“That’s why, before she embarks on her mission, you must do everything you can to please her and leave her with a precious memory,” the Witch continued. “Only then will you have a chance to seize the one and only moment in her life when she might let her guard down.”

“Understood,” Lynn nodded after a long silence.

No one knew Yveste better than herself. If the Witch said this was his best chance, he had no choice but to comply. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was withholding some critical piece of information.

There was also something strange about today’s interaction. Given the Witch’s cold demeanor, why was she so invested in his escape plan? Why was she, of all people, offering advice to aid him?

Lynn didn’t understand. He could only chalk it up to the inscrutable machinations of a God.

Not that asking her would guarantee an answer, anyway.

In the end, he’d just be making a fool of himself.

The outcome is what matters. As long as I can escape from that woman, who cares about the process?

"Then, how should I please you?" Lynn asked after some thought.

"This has nothing to do with me," the Witch replied coldly.

Heh.

You're the one who told me to win over your past self, yet now you’re acting all tsundere, pretending it’s none of your concern?

Lynn couldn’t help but ridicule her inwardly.

For a moment, an awkward silence descended between the man and the god. Lynn assumed, given her personality, that she’d simply kick him out of the Pantheon once the conversation reached an impasse.

But unexpectedly, after a long silence, she spoke again.

"There’s one more thing," she said softly.

"Go ahead," Lynn replied.

"If you have the chance, tell Afia and the others... thank you," the Witch murmured.

For some reason, a fleeting daze crossed her crimson eyes, as though she was recalling a memory from a distant past.

"Understood. I’ll pass it on," Lynn nodded.

It seemed that even a being with such a long lifespan could feel wistful when looking back on bygone days.

The Witch of the End didn’t say anything further. She raised her hand, and behind Lynn, the spatial rift began to fracture. Feeling the familiar pull of the portal, Lynn didn’t resist and allowed his consciousness to be drawn into the passage.

The grandiose sight of the Pantheon faded before his eyes, along with the white-haired woman in the black dress, who turned away from him without another glance.

Moments later, the temple fell silent once more, save for the faint clinking of the chains of order as the Witch moved.

She raised her slender wrist and traced shapes in the air, as though drawing invisible patterns.

Gradually, images materialized before her, flickering like projections.

If Lynn had still been there, he would have instantly recognized the figures. Afia, Milanie, Morris, Rhine, Greya, and even the residents of Augusta Manor—all were present, frozen in the cold clarity of the visions.

The Witch’s gaze lingered on the images, her expression betraying a complex, indescribable emotion.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, addressing the illusions. "He’s too weak... and he came too late. In the end, nothing will stop what’s to come."

It was unclear whether she was speaking to the shadows or murmuring to herself. Unfortunately, the phantoms, lifeless as statues, offered no reply.

After a long silence, the Witch waved her hand, and the projections dissolved into nothingness.

She lifted her gaze, looking past the Pantheon’s dome toward the sky, where the massive, planet-sized Sword of Damocles loomed.

"The past cannot be undone, but the future can be changed. Those were your words to me."

"Though I don’t know why you possess the power to stir the inertia of fate, you are undoubtedly the key to altering what lies 100,000 years ahead."

"So, you cannot die."

"Even if everyone—including me of that time—cannot escape the worst outcome, at the very least... you must leave Orne City."

Her crimson eyes glinted with resolve.

"Lynn Bartleon, you must stay alive."

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