Chapter 159 The Princess and the Witch's First Meeting - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

When Lynn heard these words, he was instantly struck with a sense of numbness. Although Evester's breath was as fragrant as orchids, and the warmth against his ear intoxicated him, what she said was terrifying. The state of his Tameshine was on the brink of collapse. Simultaneously, the words of Her Highness the princess echoed repeatedly in his mind. Did she want to contact the Witch? Seriously? At this moment, Lynn felt a tingling at his scalp. As a follower of the End, he had methods to communicate with the Witch—something Evester had long suspected. He never thought he could hide this from her. Yet, in order not to provoke the emotionally unstable princess, Lynn never mentioned these matters. Even Evester herself, due to her profound distaste for the existence of the End Witch, had repeatedly ordered it not to be brought up without her permission, especially when it concerned the future. Lynn had always complied, striving to avoid any potential conflict between them. Despite this, there remained a buried premonition of danger deep within him. He knew Evester's personality well. With her insatiable possessiveness, how could she possibly share her beloved pet with another woman for long? Hence, Lynn always felt that this metaphorical bomb would explode sooner or later. He just never expected it to be now. He wanted to dodge the issue or, as a last resort, feign ignorance and play dead. The problem was, he was under hypnosis. And a hypnotized person must unconditionally obey the commands of the hypnotist. Otherwise, his previous façades would crumble, possibly enraging Evester to extremes with unforeseeable consequences. What could he do? At this moment, Lynn was sweating profusely. He had no idea why Evester wanted to contact the Witch, but it certainly wouldn’t be to sit down for a calm chat over afternoon tea, like sisters. Just then, when a long silence lingered, Evester frowned. She glanced at the mark of the Mind’s Eye on her palm, muttering to herself, “Why isn’t there a response?” Oh no! Lynn internally cried out as he quickly put on a dull expression and slowly said, "I communicate with the Witch through a sealed parchment." "Take it out." Evester wasn't curious; she merely extended her slender hand. Damn it. Damn it! Lynn couldn't think of any reason to stop her at that moment. Rationality told him that if he jumped into her arms and attempted to be intimate, Evester might be pleased, but it would hardly cover the anger of betrayal. After all, this had nothing to do with the Witch. His decision to conceal it from her was of his own volition. If discovered, the consequences would be unimaginable. He felt Evester's undeniable crimson eyes on him, and after much mental deliberation, he could only grit his teeth and reluctantly take out the parchment he used to contact the Witch, presenting it to her. Perhaps Her Highness simply encountered a problem and wanted to seek advice from the Witch? Upon further contemplation, it wasn't entirely out of the question. After all, the Witch had lived for a hundred thousand years, with perspectives and knowledge far beyond the ordinary. As a young girl, Her Highness seeking guidance wasn't entirely inconceivable. Lynn consoled himself with this thought. "Carry me to the desk." Seeing the parchment in Lynn’s hand, Evester showed no surprise but instead spread her arms, gesturing for him to carry her. Soon, they arrived at the desk. Lynn sat on the chair, while Evester perched on his lap. Though the pose was intimate, Lynn had no romantic notions. He awaited Evester's final "judgment" on him. "I’ll dictate, you write." Evester planted a gentle kiss on Lynn's face before placing a fountain pen in his hand. Lynn mentally took a deep breath. "Wretched woman, this time I’ve won." Evester’s voice, tender yet with a hint of provocation, reached him. Merely the first sentence had Lynn barely holding it together, almost dropping the pen from his trembling hand. Fortunately, Evester sat on his lap, cradling his chin as if admiring some rare treasure, her sienna eyes fixed intently on him. With her back to the desk, she didn't notice anything amiss. Lynn bit his lip. After much thought, he could only steel himself and write down Evester's dictated words. In the Pantheon. As usual, the cold woman in a black dress with white hair lay supine on the temple floor, her eyes half-closed, cradling a half-read book. It had been days since her follower last left this place. Though she never mentioned it during the day, in moments of leisure, the Lady Witch invariably found her thoughts drifting, spontaneously conjuring the image of the young man. "Crack." At that moment, a barely audible fracture sound reached the Witch's ears. She instinctively opened her eyes, gazing coolly toward the order chain on her right wrist. Seen closely, a hairline crack had appeared on the wrist area, barely perceptible unless scrutinized. Such a minuscule fracture naturally did nothing to compromise the chain's solidity. Nonetheless, a glimmer of intrigue appeared in the Witch's eyes. How many days had passed? She hadn't expected her follower to prove so capable, causing a significant destiny shift from the Moonlit Goddess's past. It seemed he had taken her advice to heart. Pondering this, the End Witch sat up slightly, leaning back on the supporting pillar, her fingers lightly brushing her hair. A faint, almost imperceptible smile graced her tender lips, suggesting good spirits. If she could break the shackle on her right hand symbolizing the Moonlit Goddess, her power and authority would further resurrect. Yet, as it stood, such a minor fissure couldn't liberate her from the cuff. If the crack were expanded several times over, that would presumably facilitate matters. Even as she continued to muse, the Witch, in tandem, gently massaged the fine crack on the manacle with her forefinger. Opportunities to meet Lynn were exceedingly rare, and she wasn't one to wear her emotions openly. Thus, now she seemed to peer through the crack, spanning a hundred thousand years, to feel Lynn's heartbeat and trace the trajectory of his fate. But unexpectedly, a sudden foreboding filled her mind. She instinctively lifted her hand, and with a spatial ripple, an ancient, worn parchment materialized in her palm. Was it him? The End Witch mused, her lips slightly curving upward as she unfurled the parchment. Sure enough, familiar handwriting began to materialize on its surface. Yet upon reading the meaning behind the script, the Witch's expression turned frostily cold. Though the handwriting was his, the tone and implication of the words were unmistakably familiar. "Wretched woman, this time I’ve won." Just the first line caused her fingers to tighten upon the flimsy parchment. With her memory of the past, the Witch knew precisely whose nickname this was. Although, in a sense, it insulted both the addresser and herself, it nonetheless held a contempt worth noting. The Witch frowned, her stunningly beautiful face turning cold as ice. She continued reading. "At tonight’s banquet, that adorable little Eleanor called me her sister-in-law in front of everyone." "I’m thrilled. I’m curious what your side is feeling now." "And don’t reassure yourself with ‘I’m just a past you’—because it was this princess that Eleanor hailed as her sister-in-law, not the you ten thousand years in the future." "This is an acknowledgment from his kin—something that the you ten thousand years later can never possess." "Since you’re trapped there like a prisoner, you should have the mentality of a beaten dog rather than doing needless things repeatedly. Lynn has me by his side, and that's enough." "I hope you can understand this and refrain from disturbing our family life." The letter ended here. At some point, the Witch had straightened herself, her pale arm beneath her sleeve trembling slightly, causing the Order Shackle to emit a faint sound. Clearly, she was suppressing unprecedented anger at that moment. As one of the most powerful deities through the ages, never since ascending to divinity had she suffered such humiliation. And all of it came from the past version of herself that she utterly loathed. In an instant, a surge of red light engulfed the entire Pantheon, threatening to pierce through the place that imprisoned her! As her power raged uncontrollably, the Witch's chest heaved rapidly. Though her face remained expressionless, an unquenchable icy coldness underlay her gaze. She was genuinely angry. Should she attempt it? The Witch raised her right hand, gazing at the minuscule crack on the manacle. Even though it was just a sliver, it hinted at a gap she could exploit. She had yet to attempt such a maneuver, but it seemed possible she could achieve things previously unconsidered. While the Witch hesitated, an abrupt memory flash eradicated her rationality. "You dare court death!" It was over. Completely over. Reflecting on the words he'd penned on the parchment, Lynn appeared lost, as though just subjected to the torment and humiliation of an elder sister. Fortunately, in his hypnotized state, Evester hadn’t noticed the peculiarity. As the letters faded from the parchment, Evester revealed a wicked, amused smile. It seemed her message had indeed reached ten thousand years into the future. How, she wondered, would the woman react? Evester’s silence caused the atmosphere to become oddly disconcerting. Lynn, while contemplating potential consequences, quietly observed Evester's movements. He was curious about everything that had transpired tonight. Since leaving the Elloher Palace, Her Highness had been noticeably troubled. Returning, she inexplicably provoked the Witch. Lynn theorized her change might relate to Saint Roland VI. Damn old monarch—could he still be plotting behind the scenes? His mind raced with conjectures. A brief silence enveloped the two. For the next few minutes, Evester remained seated on Lynn’s lap. Not only that, she casually kicked off her high heels, revealing her tender, white feet, gently swaying and relaxing like a cat curled up in his embrace. Occasionally, she even pressed her ear against his chest to listen to his rhythmic heartbeat. As if waiting for something. At last, after a few moments, Evester glanced at the clock, puzzled as to why events did not unfold as she expected. "Was the provocation insufficient?" She frowned, murmuring to herself. Moments later, she shook her head, pitying her future self. To endure such affront—as if she were a turtle. Were she in such a situation, she'd risk half her life to immediately reclaim her beloved pet and eliminate every woman who dared approach him. With that thought, her gaze fixed on Lynn's handsome face, her pink tongue lightly touched her lips. If the provocation wasn’t enough, she'd add more. In his azure eyes, reflecting her image, Evester gently cupped his face and kissed him hard. All the while, she stared unblinkingly into Lynn’s eyes. She wasn’t merely looking into his eyes. They served as a mirror for her, reflecting the self she imagined. That reflection was her, yet not solely her alone. If the woman with shared memories were present, she’d easily grasp Evester’s intention. Through Lynn's reflections, Evester established eye contact with the End Witch ten thousand years hence. It was her way of saying, "No matter how strong any man may appear, his lips remain soft." So sweet, so delicious! Engrossed, Evester coyly and tenderly caressed his palate with her tongue, traversing back and forth playfully. Lynn's heart raced wildly, as he mentally pleaded. Please, not again! For mercy! At this moment, his mind devoid of romantic notions. All Lynn desired was to beseech the gods to stop her antics in front of him. He couldn’t fathom why she continued to engage in this endless battle of wits with thin air. The Witch was ten thousand years in the future—how could she possibly... However, as that thought formed, an unprecedented power surged from the End Goddess's anchor mark into his mental realm, shaking his very soul. Lynn had no capacity for resistance; his vision plunged into darkness instantly. As his consciousness slipped, he realized the truth of his situation and comprehended Evester's prior actions. Indeed. Who understands oneself better than oneself? Even after ten thousand years, the pathological possessiveness buried deep within remained unchanged. This was a truth Evester had long known. At this moment, within the confines of the Bartleon estate. Using Lynn’s body as a vessel. The End Witch had descended.