Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 73: My Method to Break the Deadlock

Watching Duke Tyrius in a fit of rage, Lynn remained perfectly calm.

It was clear that the events at Municipal Square had already spread throughout the city, and Lynn was undoubtedly aware of the situation.

In fact, when the banners were put up, he had specifically noted that the initiative was Duke Tyrius’s idea.

This essentially threw the duke into the fire, making him the target of public scrutiny.

To outsiders, the mighty Duke Tyrius, whose family seemed so formidable, now looked like a leader whose call to action had gone entirely unheeded.

This perception was a severe blow to the duke’s reputation and authority.

Unable to bear it any longer, Duke Tyrius had rushed to the Augusta Estate in a fury, eager to confront Lynn.

“I understand you’re upset, Your Grace,” Lynn sighed. “But please, calm down. Let’s take a moment to think this through.”

“You think I’m the one who should calm down?” Duke Tyrius snorted. “The churches are uniting against us. Why should they be the ones panicking?”

Lynn shook his head.

“If you look at the situation from the perspective of the public and the believers, you’ll see a completely different picture.”

“What do you mean?”

Although Duke Tyrius had stormed in with anger, Lynn’s measured words gradually cooled his temper.

Taking a seat on an empty chair, the duke straightened his posture, his hands resting firmly on his knees.

Seeing this, Lynn continued, “Let me give you an example.

Imagine, Your Grace, that you are a devout follower of the Church of Abundance. One day, while passing through Municipal Square, you see those donation boxes and the banners above them. Wouldn’t you feel compelled to contribute to your faith?”

“I… I suppose I would,” Duke Tyrius began, only to find himself at a loss for rebuttal.

He realized that Lynn’s argument held merit.

The glass donation boxes had been deliberately designed to be transparent, allowing passersby and onlookers to clearly see the amounts inside and associate them with the respective churches.

This setup touched upon a crucial issue:

The poorer a person—or the more disillusioned they were with life—the likelier they were to cling to their faith as a lifeline, like a drowning man grasping at straws.

When that faith deepened into devotion, it often brought out a fervent side, driven by a universal human trait: vanity.

Vanity wasn’t limited to the wealthy; even the impoverished could engage in competition.

For some believers, preserving the dignity of their faith could push them to extremes, particularly since they genuinely believed that their god was watching over them.

With the transparent donation boxes in place, devotees were bound to start competing, eager to prove their faith by contributing more than others.

For the faithful, this was a blatant chance to display their loyalty publicly.

Furthermore, rivalry between churches and their followers—already rife with tension—would intensify to an unprecedented degree.

No believer would want their church to donate less than others.

In the end, this would escalate into a citywide frenzy, a pathological competition to out-donate each other.

But Lynn had anticipated all of this.

That’s why, from the very beginning, he had ordered the guards to prohibit ordinary believers from donating.

As a result, the donation boxes, which should have been overflowing by now, remained completely empty.

“Think about it,” Lynn said with a faint smile.

“The banners on those boxes, paired with their emptiness, are the perfect irony for the believers.”

“While it’s not a fatal blow, it’s enough to make them question their faith in their idle moments.”

“Questions like: ‘Why have I donated so much to the church, yet they refuse to contribute a single coin when it matters most?’”

“...”

At this, Duke Tyrius fell into deep thought.

In truth, he had begun to grasp Lynn’s reasoning from the outset.

What a peculiar and ingenious plan.

His lingering dissatisfaction dissipated entirely.

After a moment of silence, Duke Tyrius posed another question.

“But what if they decide to start something of their own?”

The duke was referring to the possibility that the churches, led by the Divine Order Church, might resist by organizing their own donation event.

To save face and reassure their believers, they could easily set up an alternative donation drive—a mere symbolic gesture of transferring funds from one hand to the other.

“What then?” he asked.

"In the end, it would just be another instance of exploiting the public while reimbursing their own with full pockets."

“It’s too late for that,” Lynn said with a smile. “Your Grace, today marks the fourth day.”

“If my predictions are correct, starting tomorrow, the power dynamics in this contest between the Crown, the churches, and the nobles will reverse.”

For some reason, the young man before him exuded an unshakable aura of confidence, as if he could turn the tide at any moment.

“So, what exactly are you waiting for now?” Duke Tyrius asked, narrowing his eyes at Lynn.

Raising a single finger, Lynn replied, “I’m waiting for the breaking point—a spark, a ‘bold outlier.’”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Kesha, the butler, returned and whispered a message in his ear.

“Master Lynn, the parish bishop of the Slann Sect has requested a meeting with you.”

“Ah, there it is.” Lynn’s smile deepened.

Led by a maid, Ivo Traore stepped cautiously into the garden, his heart heavy with tension and trepidation.

As the parish bishop of the Slann Sect in Orne City, he had taken a significant risk in coming here. By meeting with the mastermind behind the recent events, he risked incurring the wrath of the Divine Order Church.

Such was the plight of a minor church.

The Slann Sect had little to boast about. Ivo himself was not a native of Orne City but hailed from a small nation nestled between the Saint Roland Empire and the Tutkhamun Empire. His homeland, devoted to the God of Earth, was predominantly populated by followers of the Slann Sect.

Thanks to the nation’s abundance of magical stone mines, its wealth flourished through trade.

However, the saying "an innocent man with a treasure invites his own ruin" proved true.

Their amassed fortune soon attracted the attention of the Tutkhamun Empire, a nation devoted to the War God and steeped in a culture of conflict and violence.

Inevitably, an all-too-common tale of invasion followed.

Ivo managed to escape the devastation of his homeland. Determined to ensure the Slann Sect’s survival, he embarked on a journey to spread his faith. His travels eventually brought him to Orne City, a bastion of religious freedom and fertile ground for nurturing new congregations.

Over the years, the sect grew steadily.

Though it remained far from rivaling the Divine Order Church or similar institutions, it managed to attract nearly ten thousand devout believers within the city.

However, with growth came challenges.

First, the doctrine of the God of Earth clashed with the established teachings of the Church of Abundance, resulting in repeated warnings from the city council and law enforcement. They demanded that the Slann Sect alter its teachings—a ludicrous notion, as Ivo had no authority to amend divine scripture.

Second, the War God Cathedral, an arm of the Tutkhamun Empire, established a presence in Orne City a few years ago and aggressively recruited followers.

Given the sect’s history of enmity with the Tutkhamun Empire, peaceful coexistence was never an option.

Under pressure from both sides, the Slann Sect’s foothold steadily eroded.

Now, it teetered on the brink of irrelevance, a shadow of its former self.

Desperate to preserve his faith, Ivo ultimately found his way to the Augusta Estate.

As he looked at the young man who was even younger than he had imagined, seated beside the silent yet imposing Duke Tyrius, Ivo had a gut feeling: this might have been the right decision after all.

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