Chapter 113 I want to withdraw from the royal election - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

"It's been a month," Greya glared at the guards in front of the manor, his eyes seemingly burning with anger, "It's been a month since that incident!" "He was a living, breathing person who caused such a commotion—it’s impossible for him to just disappear into thin air!" "But why have none of you found even the slightest clue?!" "S-sorry, Young Master Greya," one of the guards stammered, drenched in sweat from the heat of his wrath, "We've searched every corner of the Solon Mountains and the surrounding areas, but there's truly no hint of him." "Even using sealed items was useless; Young Master Lynn has vanished as if evaporated from the world." "Keep looking for him! I said I want him found, dead or alive!!!" Greya roared. Though he was the second son of the Augusta family, he had always been gentle and modest, never before showing such a volatile side. "Don’t be too upset," Morris suddenly stepped forward, gently patting his shoulder, "We should have prepared ourselves for this possibility, shouldn’t we?" Upon hearing these words, Greya's expression turned somber and defeated. He didn't want things to be this way, but Lynn was one of his few friends in this world. Moreover, Lynn had saved them all, yet the imperial honor roll and military awards bore no trace of him. This last scion of the Bartleon family had been erased from existence by the invisible hands of those damned nobles. Looking at the bronze medal of honor hanging on his chest, Greya let out a soft sigh. After the chaos of the Wishing Jar incident, every participant including himself was bestowed honors by the empire. The range was so broad that it even sparked discontent in the distant imperial capital of Glostein. Nobles argued vehemently that such quick promotions were improper, as those honored had not even set foot on the battlefield against the demon race. In the end, it was Duke Tyrus himself who penned a strongly worded letter to Saint Laurent VI to settle the matter. It was ridiculous, really. Had the central figure of the incident been any prince, the capital wouldn't have reacted with such intensity. Their reaction stemmed solely from their allegiance to the Third Princess, Evester. "How is Her Highness doing now?" Greya suddenly asked. Morris gently shook his head, "She's regained consciousness, but she's not doing well." "It's as if she's completely shut down emotionally. Apart from speaking a few words to Afiya, she doesn't respond to anyone." Physical wounds can heal easily, but those of the mind. . . are much harder to mend. Honestly, being in the service of Evester, he never imagined that one day the royal princess he served would be reduced to such a state. And all because of one man. That man clearly meant something far different to her than anyone else. Both of them fell into silence. The incident with the Wishing Jar had taught them a great deal. Greya was no longer content to simply marry a baron's daughter and live out a peaceful life. He had come to terms with his own inadequacies, leading him to follow his father and brother Rhine’s guidance to join the Church of the Bountiful, becoming an extraordinary individual. His aspirations now reached beyond retiring to a plantation in the south. Greya suddenly yearned for a glimpse of the imperial capital. To see those self-righteous nobles, and to understand the twisted growth of their hearts. Why were they capable of such filth? As the two stood in introspective silence, a maid’s voice unexpectedly interrupted from behind. "Y-young Master Greya, Young Master Morris, there are two guests outside the manor, claiming to be members of the Sacred Oak Institution, requesting an audience with Her Highness!" The Sacred Oak Institution?! Morris and Greya’s eyes met with shared astonishment. Though they had anticipated their arrival, they hadn’t expected it would be so soon. "Let’s go and see what’s going on." Afiya gently pushed the wheelchair while walking down the corridor. Some sunlight streamed faintly through the windows, casting its warm embrace upon her. As she glanced at the woman seated in the wheelchair, Afiya felt a pang of emotion. Over the past month, she had cried countless times in secret. Sometimes for Lynn, sometimes for Her Highness, and sometimes for herself. The woman in the wheelchair was astonishingly beautiful, yet curiously, her hair was as white as snow. Yes, ever since Evester woke from her comatose state, her once dark hair had turned into pristine white. This change imparted a colder air to her already distant demeanor. The harsh, cutting aura and the air of arrogant majesty were completely gone. Even a hint of sharpness was absent. To Afiya, in just a month, Her Highness had become someone completely unfamiliar. She seemed interested in nothing at all. Her sole daily routine was to sit by the window, silently gazing towards the Solon Mountains. She ignored everyone and everything around her, only breaking her silence at dusk to inquire if there was any news of Lynn. Each question was met with disappointment. But now, even the expression of disappointment was hard to discern on Evester's face. This was terrifying. Afiya wished desperately that Her Highness would express anger, hatred, anything—even commit violence. Anything was better than this icy apathy. For the Crown Princess to have such a reaction, Afiya could vaguely understand why. Evester was like a small girl bereft of everything, shunned by her father, bullied by her siblings, surrounded by those who held her in contempt. A life destined to lack any semblance of hope or light. Yet Lynn’s presence changed everything. His exceptional capabilities and captivating charisma. To a girl who had nothing, Lynn was like a rare treasure illuminating her desolate world. Her siblings scoffed at this, having had access to opulence and toys far beyond her reach. To them, such a "toy" was easily obtainable. But to the girl, it was a cherished gem she held close, polishing tirelessly. Her fierce possessiveness wouldn’t allow anyone to take it, yet her excessive care left her overwhelmed. After all, it was her first precious possession. It might very well also be her last. Now, that singular treasure had been utterly destroyed. The girl returned to having nothing, back to that dark and shabby room. When she emerged again, who knew what she might become? Afiya didn't have the heart to imagine this fearsome future. As she pushed the icy, detached Evester, lost in contemplation, a maid approached from behind. She whispered a few words, and Afiya's expression shifted. "I understand. I'll bring Her Highness over now." After the maid left, Afiya bit her lip, contemplating over what she'd been told, and leaned toward Evester’s ear. "Your Highness... there's someone from the Sacred Oak who wishes to see you." Evester remained expressionless. From start to finish, she gazed impassively out the window. Ten minutes later, Afiya finally brought Evester into the drawing room. The room was already brimming with people, including Greya, Morris, and the other attendants of the Augusta manor. Even Duke Tyrus was present. His eyes briefly flickered with a hint of regret as he looked at the expressionless Evester sitting in the wheelchair. He had hoped that, with his and that young man’s support, she might make significant strides in the royal selection. But fate had other plans, turning their aspirations into mere illusions. Despite this, he never once suggested dissolving their alliance. "Since everyone is here, we can begin," Duke Tyrus cleared his throat, as the most senior figure present after Evester. Apart from the familiar faces, a young man with brown hair stood at the center of the room. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and a neat, stately noble attire, embroidered with a gold-thread insignia of an oak tree at the collar. He exuded an aura of holiness and solemnity, akin to a secretary of some great figure. This was the envoy from the Sacred Oak Institution, dispatched to Orne City. This institution was specifically established for the royal selection with a long history, handed down by an ancient family, dedicated to serving the royal household. They assessed candidates based on their everyday conduct, actions during the selection process, accomplishments, and public prestige to determine their scores. The ultimate victor would become the new emperor of the Saint Laurent Empire. The Sacred Oak was here now to announce the updated royal selection scores for Evester. At Duke Tyrus's words, the envoy slightly bowed, greeting both Evester and him with courtesy. Under everyone’s gaze, he pulled a parchment from his pocket. "Now, I will read the royal selection score for Her Highness, Third Princess, Evester Roland Alexini." "In the last round, Her Highness's score was -3,576 points, placing her last among the nine princes and princesses." "Topping the list was His Highness Ferit with 10,725 points; Princess Shirley came second with 8,014 points; third, His Highness Michael with 7,914 points; and so forth." "After this update, your sequence ranking remains unchanged, but your score has been adjusted." "For successfully resolving the Level 0 seal artifact riot, you gained 1,500 points." "Gaining the support of an Elector, you received 1,000 points." "Retrieving overdue taxes for the empire from Orne City and curbing the churches’ expansion efforts, you earned 500 points." "Your current royal selection score is -576 points." As the envoy's words settled, the entire room plunged into silence. Duke Tyrus felt his eye twitching slightly. Clearly, he hadn't expected Evester's baseline to be so low. Negative points? Was that even a possible score? Feeling the peculiar stares from the Augusta manor and Duke Tyrus, Morris hung his head in embarrassment. Generally speaking, the scoring system of the Sacred Oak was quite fair. But Evester’s infamous deeds in the capital. . . were just too notorious. Even with all the uncontrollable seal artifacts she managed, enduring countless slumbers, it still wasn't enough to plug that chasm. It was the old saying, comparisons are odious. The Second Prince had amassed over ten thousand points, and even the Second Princess Shirley had more than eight thousand, yet Evester remained behind the starting line. Nevertheless, the Sacred Oak envoy seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere. Or perhaps it was beyond his concern. "Starting this month, the royal selection ceremony will enter a new phase," the young man addressed everyone calmly. "Namely, the first elimination round is about to commence." "Before the end of the month, Her Highness must escape the negative score, or she will forfeit her right to participate further." This pronouncement was like a storm raging in everyone’s mind. Greya and Morris exchanged worried glances, their anxiety evident. There were less than two weeks remaining in the month. That meant in the coming weeks, they had to assist the Crown Princess in earning more than 576 points, or she would be excluded from the selection! How could that even be possible?! All at once, everyone’s spirits seemed to sink. But then, unexpectedly, a cold and clear voice reverberated from the white-haired woman in the wheelchair. In Afiya’s eyes, a glimmer of hope emerged instantly. But after hearing what was said, she stood frozen, bewildered. "It’s not necessary." Evester’s demeanor remained calm and indifferent, as if despondent, "Tell those in the capital, I’m withdrawing from the selection." Solon Mountains. With the opening of a silent space rift, a blanket-covered figure plummeted from the sky. "Witchy Miss! Next time, can’t you find a smoother landing spot?!" While clutching his bare bottom, the young man whined as he got up from the ground. He peered around with a look of puzzlement. The scenery was unfamiliar. Where on earth am I supposed to be now?