Chapter 128 When did I become like this? - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

A puppy is just a puppy. So adorable. How could it possibly change into a human just because it doesn’t want to be a puppy anymore? Humans are so filthy and detestable. It's much better to be a carefree puppy. All it needs to be satisfied is to snuggle in its owner's arms for hugs and kisses. Hey, where is my little puppy? Where has my adorable little dog gone? Come back quickly! If it accidentally runs outside and gets taken by some wicked woman, the owner will be very upset! What? You're already someone else's puppy? No, no way! The owner is really going to be angry! At this moment, Evester felt a chaotic tide of thoughts and voices surge into her mind. She didn't know what expression she wore as she left Lynn's room. She only remembered her mind buzzing upon hearing his cold and unfeeling words, as if fleeing reality, shutting out all external information. When she came to her senses, she found herself holding a dagger, sitting quietly by the window of the study. Gazing at the sharp blade in her hand, she remained silent. All the scenes that had just occurred flooded her mind. That cute little dog, it turns out, didn't belong to her alone. And it's quite possible that long ago, it had already become another woman's plaything. Realizing this, Evester's slender wrist trembled slightly as she tried to grip the handle tightly, yet she couldn’t suppress the pain and exhaustion within her body. Few situations had made her feel so powerless. Aside from the few times processing sealing objects had put her into a deep sleep, it was akin only to when Lynn died before her eyes. And now, yet again. Moreover, this unprecedented feeling of powerlessness and disgust even far exceeded any previous experience. Even in the most desperate of past setbacks, a faint glimmer of light was always visible. But this time, Evester found no possibility of victory. Her future self, the ultimate witch, Evester. Just thinking of that cold, white-haired woman she saw through the long river of time in Lynn's spirit world, Evester felt a strong surge of hatred and jealousy. That was her, yet not entirely her. She possessed far greater power, enough to rival godhood. She had richer life experiences, far more mature and reliable than herself. Her personality seemed more likable, at least even her puppy had been so taken with her. Of course, the most crucial, despair-inducing point for Evester was this: Her future self seemed to have cured the curse mark on her face. That "sinful" curse was Evester's psychological shadow since childhood. It could be said that the primary reason she had ended up in her current situation was largely due to this curse. Even before Lynn came into her life, the black curse mark on her face was a scar buried deep in her heart, one she never wanted to touch. She lived wearing a mask, like a mouse unwilling to see the light. Pitiful and sad. And now, her future self had somehow cured this curse, becoming so beautiful and noble. In comparison, she felt like an ugly duckling loathed by everyone; nobody, except Lynn, found her attractive. No. Perhaps even her puppy’s comment of "so beautiful" wasn't heartfelt. In retrospect, there were doubts everywhere. It's very likely he had met her future self much earlier. If that's the case, who was truly the recipient of "so beautiful"? The answer was self-evident. This was the last straw that broke Evester’s composure. In careful comparison, she found herself lacking even the slightest feature that could match up to that future woman. What was even more despairing was that she had no chance of surpassing her. Even if Evester wanted to change, every bit of progress and improvement she gained in the process only made her more like her future self. This was a thought that filled her with immense fear and breakdown. To her, the witch was an endpoint, possessing everything she had. But to the witch, she was merely a painful memory, an insignificant moment in the river of time. The gap was insurmountable. She couldn’t even seek vengeance or hope to kill the other. No. In fact, she could do something. This was the only thing she, who was overshadowed in every way by that wretched woman, could accomplish. A dim light flashed through the crimson depths of Evester's eyes. Her breathing grew rapid. She lowered her gaze to the dagger in her grip. If she ended herself here, that cursed woman in the future would cease to exist. Evester slowly raised the knife, but then her eyes revealed a hint of confusion. But if she were to die, what would happen to her little puppy? Without its owner’s company, it would surely whine in distress, wouldn’t it? Moreover, being so adorable, it might get taken home by another woman. If that's the case, then it’s better to kill it alongside her. Even in burial, they would be together, never to be separated again. Pale moonlight flowed in like water through the window, casting a silver sheen on the sharp dagger. In a daze, Evester found herself seeing a reflection in the mirror-like blade, a disheveled, obsessed, and gloomy white-haired woman. That face felt both familiar and alien to her. It was weary, desperate. Is this me? Evester instinctively turned her head towards the wall beside her. There hung an oil painting, depicting a spirited woman in military attire, her gaze sharp as a knife, her posture regal and commanding, a noble and proud royal woman. Even with a mask, she inspired awe. No. That is truly me. The third princess of the Holy Roland Empire, Evester Roland Alexandri. Destined to rise from the unlikely, to emerge victorious from the royal selection, to become the next empress of this decaying empire, bringing the nation hope and rebirth. Looking at her vibrant and captivating self in the painting, Evester's hand trembled slightly, causing the sharp dagger to slip and fall to the ground. Staring blankly at her pale hand, she noticed. What should have been flawless and tender skin had been marred with scars from her recent self-abuse, marked with nail prints everywhere. These were the marks of obsession and madness. Acts past self would never have done. The old her, when faced with undesirable people or things, would have just killed. Since when did she start suppressing these emotions inside, moving towards self-destruction in such a destructive manner? Evester stared vacantly at the dagger on the ground, seemingly searching for an answer for herself.