Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 30: Lynn Kills the Game

“The blood text on the paper has changed?”

Morris exclaimed as he observed the scene through the enchanted mirror.

Seeing this, the gloom on Rhine’s face melted away, replaced by a cold, triumphant smirk.

As expected, the Greed Box’s intelligence is leagues above that clownish Deadly Marionette.

Lynn, oh Lynn, your arrogance will be your downfall.

The moment the box considers a transaction complete, its priority overrides the Deadly Marionette’s suppression rules. That means Lynn was now stuck between two options:

1. Surrender enough blood to satisfy the box.

2. Beg for Her Highness’s intervention.

If he chose the former, the result was inevitable. The Greed Box had no limits to its demands, and it wouldn’t stop until it drained every ounce of Lynn’s blood and marrow.

If he went for the latter, that would be even better from Rhine’s perspective. Her Highness seemed oddly invested in this cunning upstart. Whatever had transpired between them, it clearly didn’t bode well for the Augusta family. Should Lynn grovel for help, her trust in him would surely plummet—or she might discard him entirely.

This time, I’ve won.

Rhine basked in his perceived victory, his arrogance returning as he regained his sense of superiority.

“Morris, you’re the fastest. Go inform Her Highness to come clean up this mess,” he commanded casually.

Beside him, Milanie rolled her eyes. Rhine’s sudden shift in demeanor screamed of delusions.

Does he seriously think he’s back in control?

Just then, Morris gasped again, this time more dramatically.

“Wait, what... What is he doing?!”

---

Interesting.

Lynn stroked his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the fresh blood text on the paper:

“Give me one drop of Lynn Bartleon’s blood, and I’ll give you a coin.”

Based on the box’s behavior, transactions had to be completed within a minute. If not, the box would forcibly collect payment without providing compensation. 𝙍Âɴ∅ВЕš

What’s more, the box’s demands escalated after each exchange, yet the reward—a single coin—remained constant.

The initial "one drop of blood for a coin" was clearly bait, designed to lure victims into its trap.

Grinning, Lynn pulled a thin wire from his sleeve. After the handcuff incident, he had taken precautions, always carrying such tools in case of emergencies.

Instead of pricking his finger, however, he dipped the wire into the blood still pooling around the fallen puppet.

Why follow its rules?

As the seconds ticked by, Lynn acted decisively. Using the wire as a pen, he wrote directly on the paper:

“Give me two coins, and I’ll give you one drop of Lynn Bartleon’s blood.”

After placing the altered paper back into the box, he sat back, watching intently.

Worst case scenario? The box tries to forcibly collect a single drop of blood. No harm done.

Moments later, the text on the paper vanished, and a new line appeared:

“Give me three drops of Lynn Bartleon’s blood, and I’ll give you two coins.”

Gotcha.

Lynn chuckled, his suspicions confirmed. The Greed Box was intelligent, on par with humans, and capable of negotiating.

If it’s a trade, there’s always room to haggle.

He continued testing, upping the stakes:

“Give me four coins, and I’ll give you three drops of blood.”

The box responded promptly:

“Give me five drops of blood, and I’ll give you four coins.”

A bizarre back-and-forth ensued. With each proposal, Lynn’s demands grew bolder, while the box adjusted its requests accordingly.

---

Ten minutes later.

The negotiation spiraled into absurdity. The escalating demands left Lynn grinning ear to ear.

He realized that as long as he continued writing, the box wouldn’t finalize any transaction. Yet he also knew this couldn’t go on forever.

If he stopped, the box would default to the last agreed-upon terms, likely demanding an impossible quantity of blood.

Why does it only request blood? Lynn pondered.

Could the consciousness inside the box be using it to restore itself?

Additionally, its rewards—Saint Roland Empire coins—felt oddly specific.

Would it offer the same if someone from another country found it? Or... are its rewards even limited to coins?

Testing this theory, Lynn wrote:

“Give me a steam locomotive, and I’ll give you eighteen drops of blood.”

The request lingered on the paper, as if the box was deliberating. Moments later, the text vanished, replaced by the familiar:

“Give me one drop of Lynn Bartleon’s blood, and I’ll give you a coin.”

So, it resets when a request exceeds its capabilities, Lynn deduced.

Pushing further, he wrote:

“Give me a smartphone, and I’ll give you one drop of blood.”

Again, the box reset.

It can’t manifest items that don’t exist in this world.

Satisfied, Lynn stretched lazily.

“I’ve learned enough. Time to wrap this up,” he murmured, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Someone’s watching.

Lynn turned toward the invisible audience, raising the paper to display his latest message:

“Give me one coin, and I’ll give you a promise: Rhine Augusta will set you free.”

If submitted, the box would enforce the deal without fail.

Your move, Rhine.

---

“...”

Morris was drenched in cold sweat, utterly speechless.

This guy... he’s insane!

Lynn’s reckless manipulation of the Greed Box made Morris shudder. If he could come up with such schemes, what else was he capable of?

Across the room, Milanie was doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

“I knew it! This kid’s a genius!” she cackled, wiping tears from her eyes.

Meanwhile, Rhine’s face turned ashen.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening!

He had planned to humiliate Lynn, but the tables had turned spectacularly.

Enraged, Rhine stood abruptly, intending to leave.

But as he did, Lynn’s eerie smile through the mirror froze him in place.

His unease grew as Lynn held up the paper, revealing its message.

Milanie’s laughter stopped abruptly.

“Quick! Summon Her Highness immediately!” she shouted. “If he submits that paper, we’re in deep trouble!”

“...He’s trying to release what’s inside the box!”