Stop Hypnotizing Me, Antagonist Princess!

A dog is just a dog.

So cute.

How could it become human just because it said it didn't want to be a dog anymore?

Humans are so filthy and loathsome, it's better to be a carefree dog.

Just cuddling and kissing in the master's arms is enough to feel content.

Hey, speaking of which... where is my little dog?

Where has that adorable puppy gone?

Come back!

If you carelessly run outside and get taken away by those bad women, Master will be very angry!

What?

You're already someone else's dog?

No, that's not allowed!

Master is really going to be angry!

At that moment, Ivyst felt a torrent of disordered thoughts and voices surge into her mind.

She didn't know what expression she had worn as she left Lynn's room.

She only remembered that after hearing his cold, heartless words, her whole head buzzed, as if she was escaping from reality, blocking out all external information.

And when she came back to her senses, she found herself holding a dagger, sitting quietly by the study window.

Looking at the sharp blade in her hand, she said nothing.

All the scenes that had just happened flooded back to her mind.

That cute little dog didn't belong just to her alone.

And it was very likely that long before, it had already become another woman's plaything.

Realizing this, Ivyst's slender wrists trembled slightly, wanting to tightly grasp the handle of the dagger, but she couldn't suppress the pain and fatigue coming from within her body.

There were not many situations that could make her feel so powerless.

Apart from a few instances of deep sleep while dealing with Sealed Objects, there was only the time when Lynn died before her eyes.

And now, there was one more.

Moreover, this unprecedented feeling of weakness and disgust even surpassed any experience before.

Past setbacks, no matter how desperate, always allowed one to see a glimmer of light, albeit faint.

But this time, Ivyst could find no possibility of victory.

The future her, The End Witch, Ivyst.

The thought of the cold, white-haired woman she had seen through Lynn's spiritual world, crossing the river of time, filled Ivyst with intense hatred and jealousy.

That was her, but not only her.

She possessed far greater power, enough to rival the gods.

She had a wealth of life experiences, much more mature and dependable than herself.

Her personality even seemed more likable; at least her own little dog was so enchanted that he lost his way.

Of course, the most important point, and the most despair-inducing point for Ivyst,

was that her future self seemed to have healed the Curse Mark on her face.

That "evil" curse had been Ivyst's psychological shadow from childhood to adulthood.
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It could be said that most of her current plight was thanks to this curse.

Even before Lynn's arrival, the black curse mark on her face had always been a scar buried deep in her heart, one she didn't want to touch, living a life wearing a mask, like a rat that could not be exposed to light.

Pitiful and sorrowful.

And now, her future self had actually cured this curse, becoming so beautiful and noble.

By comparison, she was like an ugly duckling despised by everyone except for Lynn; no one else thought she was good-looking.

No.

Maybe even her own little dog's comment that she was "truly beautiful" wasn't heartfelt.

Because now that she thought about it, there were doubts in every aspect.

He might have already met his future self much earlier.

So who was the subject of that "so beautiful"?

The answer was self-evident.

This was also the last straw that plunged Ivyst into collapse.

Upon careful comparison, she found she didn't have even a single trait that could match the woman of the future.

What's more despairing was that she didn't even have a chance to catch up with or surpass that woman.

Even when Ivyst wanted to change, every bit of progress and improvement she made only made her more like her future self.

This was a thought that filled her with unspeakable fear and breakdown.

To her, the Witch was the endgame, possessing everything she had.

But in the Witch's eyes, she was merely a sorrowful past not worth mentioning, or even just an inconsequential moment in the river of time.

The gap was just too vast.

She couldn't even take revenge or kill that person...

...No.

Actually, she could.

This was the only thing she could do, being thoroughly outdone by that despicable woman in every aspect.

A glimmer of light momentarily passed through Ivyst's crimson yet dim eyes.

Her breathing quickened slightly as she gazed down at the dagger she held in her hand.

If she killed herself here, that despicable woman of the future would cease to exist.

Ivyst slowly lifted the blade, but then a trace of confusion passed over her eyes.

But if she were to die, what would become of her little dog?

Without its owner's company, it would surely cry out in distress, wouldn't it?

Moreover, her pet was so adorable that it could likely be taken home by another woman in the future.

If that were the case... might as well kill it too.

Even if buried, they would be buried together, to have it accompany her forever.

Never to part again.

The shallow moonlight flowed in like water from the window, coating the sharp dagger with a silver luster.

In a daze, Ivyst saw in the mirror-like blade the reflection of a white-haired woman with disheveled hair and a paranoid, dim gaze.

That face was both familiar and strange to her.

Somewhat haggard, somewhat despairing.

Is this... me?

Ivyst instinctively turned her head to look at the wall beside her.

There hung a portrait of a dashing woman in military attire, exuding vitality, with eyes sharp as a blade and a majestic, dignified poise – a noble and proud woman of the Royal Family.

Even with a mask on, she inspired awe.

That's not right.

This is who I am.

The Third Imperial Princess of the Saint Laurent Empire, Ivyst Laurent Alexini.

Despite being underrated by everyone, she was destined to emerge victorious from the King's election, rising against the odds to become the next Empress of this decaying Empire, bringing hope and renewal to the nation.

Looking at her own striking reflection in the portrait, Ivyst's hand involuntarily trembled, and the sharp dagger fell to the floor.

She stared blankly at her own pale palm.

Her skin, which should have been flawless and tender, was covered in scars from her recent acts of self-harm, all over were nail marks.

These were the marks of obsession and madness.

They were also things her past self would never have done.

In the past, whenever she encountered people or things that displeased her, she would simply kill them.

Had she ever suppressed those emotions and gradually walked towards self-destruction in this way of self-harm?

When exactly did I start to become what I am now?

Ivyst stared blankly at the dagger on the floor, as if trying to find an answer for herself.