65 - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

### Chapter 65: Anyone Who Wants to Share My Cake is My Enemy **A sharp sound of shattering glass pierced through the air.** Irvette didn't immediately lift her head upon hearing it. Deep in her emotions, she was enveloped by a whirlwind of madness and disdain, so much so that she was oblivious to the world around her. It's exactly as she had said before. She had seen this type of scene countless times. Yet certain experiences remain the sort one never truly grows accustomed to, regardless of how often they are repeated. The scars from the past, instead of fading, amass over time, lingering atop one another, ready to bleed afresh at the slightest touch. In her younger days, before her powers were fully realized, Irvette's siblings did not yet fear or shun her. They would secretly torment her, not out of guilt but because her appearance was displeasing to them. Even Pope Saint Laurent VI held no affection for her back then. Bullying a little girl like her didn't stir the slightest remorse in them. Despite their blood ties, they never regarded her as family. During grand royal banquets, they would "accidentally" remove her mask and scatter, snickering at the terrified and repulsed reactions of the guests. All she could do was cover her face and cry, surrounded by whispers and judgment. Yet, Saint Laurent VI never punished the pranksters in any substantial way. The only time he scolded them was for frightening the guests. Reflecting on it, perhaps it was those shadows from the past that caused her to feel oppressively restricted, even now when she had newfound power. However, she knew it was impossible to kill everyone who loathed her. It was all apathy by now. Irvette took a deep breath, trying to stifle the destructive desires within her. After all, from the beginning to the end, she had always been the same. Always... "Excuse me, Duke," a familiar voice cut through the air, "you seemed to be discussing something rather intriguing just now. Would you mind if this outsider joined in for a lively discussion?" Hearing that voice, Irvette instinctively raised her head, and upon seeing the masked figure of the young crow, the heavy stone weighing on her heart inexplicably vanished. The Duke, Tilus, was momentarily stunned when he heard the young crow's unexpected response. The mention of the "last piece of cake"? At first glance, it seemed like a showy, trivial answer. But on further reflection, it held a kernel of truth. As he had said before, human greed is endless. Those who control the cake's distribution naturally seek to benefit themselves, much like the Church of Heavenly Principles did, seizing most of a city's taxes. But if they were last in line, they would have to be unprecedentedly fair; otherwise, only the scraps would remain. It's an intriguing concept but impractical in reality. Once things reached such a point, it wouldn’t just be about those dividing the cake, but also those wanting a piece, and their varying statuses. Despite this complexity, for an informal debate over tea, the young man's answer was flawless. Tilus observed him, neither pleased nor angered, "Is this your answer? An idealist in his own world?" "Indeed," replied the youth with a smile, "this answer pertains solely to the concept of dividing cake. The actual situation is different." Duke Tilus, intrigued, asked, "Then how would you handle a similar real-world dilemma?" At this, murmurs buzzed among the guests. They couldn't miss that the Duke seemed to be testing this young man—perhaps deciding on a nightly study companion. Eyes brimming with jealousy and curiosity, the crowd listened in anticipation. The young man replied without hesitation, "In reality, I would first distinguish between friends and enemies." "Oh?" Duke Tilus leaned in, "And how do you tell?" With a chuckle, the youth said, "It's simple… anyone looking to take a piece of my cake is my enemy; everyone else is a friend. As you said before, why should I leave them anything if the cake isn't entirely finished? I'll just pack it up to go." The room fell into a stunned silence. Even the Duke was taken aback by this unexpected shift, studying the youth with newfound interest before bursting into hearty laughter. "An amusing young lad indeed," the Duke remarked, clearly entertained, "What is your name?" "Lin En, Your Excellency," the youth raised his glass. "Very well, Lin En, your response pleases me. Come to my study after the banquet; I'd like a thorough chat." The tense atmosphere that had just charged the room dissipated, and Lin En felt a small relief. These people didn’t know how close they were to courting disaster. Had they truly enraged that madwoman, escape would have been impossible for any of them. Even at this point in the original storyline, Irvette was undeniably powerful, rivaling or even surpassing the deceased previous Archbishop of the Church of Heavenly Principles. Eventually, she would become unstoppable, divine obstacles mere playthings, until she met her downfall to the plot's main protagonists. Yet, with her strength, claiming the insignificant lives here would be a trivial matter. For his own safety, Lin En felt compelled to intervene. "You just said you wouldn't be a sitting target," Greta, from beside Lin En, commented suddenly. Lin En retorted, "What do you know? This was just me showing off. Didn't you see how the Duke was captivated by my charm?" "Are you sure there wasn't a hint of impulse because the Princess seemed isolated?" "You're overthinking," Lin En rolled his eyes. Greta refrained from arguing, watching him with a knowing smile. Men often say one thing but mean another. Unfortunately, Lin En hadn't grasped this reality, continuing to inwardly scoff at the notion. Because of sympathy for her? Don't make me laugh. She could kill everyone here with one hand! Looking at the woman in the red dress standing quietly in the distance, Lin En's eyes met hers mid-air. Expecting recognition for his help, he was met by her unwavering stare, revealing no warmth or emotion. Eventually, she closed her eyes. Who knew what thoughts occupied her mind now? Under her piercing gaze, Lin En felt uneasy. Was she harboring resentment for him ruining her chance for a rampage? But weighing it over, if such a major event were to occur, the original work wouldn’t have omitted mentioning it. Lin En's head spun with these thoughts. Just then, he felt a strong, almost irate pat on his shoulder. Turning quickly, he saw a vaguely familiar presence—someone he recalled as the steward placed in Olne City by his family, named Sherlock? Lin En furrowed his brows as uncomfortable memories of his predecessor surfaced. The mansion servants had only dared treat him with disdain because of this man's tacit approval. And here he was, thought Lin En, ready to settle unfinished business, astonished to see him approaching first. "You! What are you doing here? Return with me immediately!" Sherlock, the steward, remained oblivious to Lin En's reaction, his brow furrowed and gaze icy, laced with a hint of disdain. Lin En's mind went blank for a few seconds upon hearing Sherlock's commanding tone. For a fleeting moment, the arrogance in the steward's voice almost made Lin En doubt himself, as if he were the servant instead. How has this guy thrived until now? Lin En was perplexed. Yet even before finishing this thought, his body moved on instinct, fluidly drawing a revolver from his pocket. He aimed. "Bang!" [The text cannot automatically load the next page in reading mode. 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