Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 178: The Scapegoat Hero

The Imperial Council’s schemes?

After Tiya left, Lynn pondered her words while rhythmically tapping the table with his finger. It seemed a noble councilor would arrive early the next morning to question him directly. Representatives from the Three Great Churches, the military, and several princes and princesses with vested interests would likely attend as witnesses.

Out of fear of Yveste’s growing power, the Imperial Council appeared to be employing a strategy of gradual suppression, like boiling a frog slowly. The goal was to force her into making unfavorable choices, presenting her with options that led inevitably to failure.

In this current scenario, Lynn, trapped in the Decreers' prison, surmised that Her Highness might be losing her composure. He just hoped she wouldn’t act rashly, as everything thus far remained under his control.

The earlier “little detour” with Tiya was merely a whimsical indulgence.

As for solving the case in three days?

Leaning back in his chair, Lynn mused. Normally, even a straightforward case would take weeks to resolve. The Grafting Butcher case, on the other hand, had been unsolved for a year and a half. Resolving it in three days was sheer fantasy.

Such a task would be impossible even for him—unless there was deliberate sabotage.

Given the efficiency and capability of the empire’s machinery, failure could only mean one thing: broken parts.

Lynn suspected certain council families might already know the truth about Borchumann and were even colluding with the demonic forces to shield his movements. Such corruption was hardly surprising.

To demand the capture of Borchumann in three days was simply absurd. It was all a calculated facade, meant to appear legitimate while targeting Yveste.

Her Highness had never played a winning game in the Imperial Capital. Even Lynn’s public display of power in the Council Hall hadn’t improved her position significantly.

Lynn sat alone in the interrogation room for hours, lost in thought.

Surprisingly, no inquisitors from the Divine Order Church arrived during this time. It seemed Connor, the wily old fox, was more cunning than Lynn had anticipated.

By Lynn’s estimation, it was nearing evening when the silence was broken.

The door creaked open, revealing the elderly Decreer who had escorted him earlier. The man’s piercing, almost mocking gaze rested on him.

"Time to return to your cell," the old man rasped.

Despite his frail appearance, Lynn was certain the man’s strength surpassed that of a Fourth-Rank Extraordinary—perhaps far beyond.

Given the sparsity of guards in this vast prison, Lynn could only assume this old man’s immense power was one of the reasons.

With his own Extraordinary powers suppressed, Lynn had no chance of resisting. Even at full strength, his Second-Rank abilities would be no match for this unknown force.

Without protest, Lynn stood and followed the man.

The Decreers’ Prison resembled a labyrinth plunging deep underground. Its size dwarfed that of the Augusta Estate, an architectural feat difficult to fathom.

"Which councilor will be attending tomorrow?" Lynn asked idly as he walked behind the old man.

The Imperial Council consisted of twelve seats, held by the heads of ancient and powerful families. Even the Mosgra family didn’t qualify, being nouveau riche without deep roots.

Knowing which family the councilor represented could shed light on his adversaries.

The old man chuckled darkly. "You seem quite confident. Counting on the Third Princess to back you up?"

Shrugging, Lynn replied nonchalantly, "Just making conversation."

The old man’s smile widened unsettlingly. "Blake Cortes."

Unfamiliar name.

"Who is he—" Lynn began but stopped as the old man came to a halt.

Under his watchful eye, the old man slowly opened a cell door.

"We’re here. Get in."

Lynn frowned at the sight before him.

"A communal cell? Isn’t this for common criminals? I’m a special detainee who hasn’t been convicted yet. Why am I not in a private cell?"

"Get in."

The old man’s unnerving grin didn’t waver, nor did he answer the question.

Lynn’s expression darkened. "I demand to see Her Highness."

"I said, get in."

The old man’s smile finally disappeared, replaced by a chilling aura of malice.

A suffocating pressure, like a blade against his throat, washed over Lynn, making his body tremble. His face turned pale, and anger flickered in his eyes.

"I’ll remember you," Lynn said coldly.

The old man’s smirk deepened, his eyes filled with foreboding intent.

Lynn muttered his words softly before turning and stepping into the communal cell.

As his figure disappeared behind the bars, the elderly Decreer’s sinister voice echoed faintly behind him:

"Welcome to... Glostein."

Boom!

The heavy door slammed shut, reverberating through the air.

…

The next moment, the anger and helplessness lingering on Lynn’s face vanished, replaced by a calm and composed expression.

It was as though his earlier reaction before the Decreer had been nothing more than an act.

Ridiculous.

Someone who could keep his composure in the presence of demons—how could such a pitiful attempt at intimidation faze him? He’d only acted flustered to avoid arousing suspicion and ensure his placement in the communal cell.

Now, in the spacious but filthy cell, over thirty ragged inmates turned their predatory gazes on him.

"Newcomer?"

A burly man slowly rose to his feet, his eyes glinting dangerously.

But upon seeing that the newcomer was nothing more than a frail-looking youth who seemed incapable of putting up a fight, the man chuckled.

The rest of the thirty-odd prisoners laughed along with him.

They had assumed that the commotion—the promise of reduced sentences offered as bait—was meant to bring down some highly dangerous target.

Who would have thought it would turn out to be a scrawny kid who looked like he couldn’t even kill a chicken?

In their eyes, he wasn’t a threat but a new plaything.

The tension in the room eased, and the inmates' laughter filled the cell.

Lynn, too, began to laugh.

What a stroke of luck, he thought.

He had just thrown a bucket of mud at Xiya, and now these fools were handing him the evidence he needed on a silver platter.

He could almost love the shadowy figures pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Almost.

To ensure Tiya couldn’t find a single flaw in his story and to maximize the storyline deviation, these men couldn’t be allowed to leave this cell alive.

Clenching his fists, Lynn’s smile grew wider, his gaze steeling with resolve.