Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 17: Keyboard Warrior and Truck Accident

“What kind of trash ending is this? I’ve followed this novel for months, and this is what I get?”

Standing at a street corner, a young man held a fried dough stick in one hand, scrolling on his phone with the other, muttering as he ranted about the novel he’d been reading. The light was red, so he used the pause to check the latest chapter. Soon he had a psychology final to take, and if he scored well, he’d get a chance at a prestigious internship, thanks to his professor’s recommendation.

But the novel’s ending left him bitterly disappointed, and all his thoughts were now directed toward venting his frustration online.

Biting down on his breakfast, he typed furiously, his thumbs dancing across the keyboard, forming a detailed critique that soon appeared in the comment section.

“Absolute garbage! I spent money every month to read this, only to be let down by an ending like that?”

“The second half was pure filler. If I didn’t care about certain characters, I would’ve dropped it ages ago.”

“Not to mention, do you even understand consistency? The protagonist’s character completely collapsed!”

“And the female characters… please, they’re all the same. Every one of them exists just to blush and fawn over the main guy. If I wanted that, I’d read romance in other genres!”

“The only memorable character was the villainous princess. Despite her tragic ending, at least she stayed true to her beliefs without being turned into another love interest.”

“As a veteran reader, this is my honest feedback. If you disagree, feel free to argue.”

After his long tirade, he posted his comment, feeling completely satisfied. As expected, within seconds, replies began flooding in, most of them insults.

“Supporting the villain? Your morals are messed up!”

“If you don’t like it, leave!”

“Think you can do better?”

Laughing at the anger he’d stirred up, he fired back at each comment, enjoying the online sparring match as he crossed the street. A notification popped up—a private message from a fellow reader.

He opened it, expecting another argument, but it was a single, simple question:

“If you had the chance to change the story, to make the ending what you wanted, would you?”

“Of course I would,” he replied without hesitation. He’d genuinely enjoyed the first half of the story, and if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be arguing about it in the first place.

In the next second, the screech of a truck’s brakes filled his ears. He barely had time to react before everything went black.

---

Lynn awoke slowly, lying on a soft bed. He’d had a strange, muddled dream, glimpses of memories from another life.

As he sat up, he took in the room around him, very different from the dim, damp underground cell he remembered. He was now in a spacious, elegantly decorated room with a dressing table, wardrobe, and washroom—all more luxurious than anything he’d seen in weeks.

After weeks in a cramped, run-down inn room, sinking into the softness of a real bed felt surreal.

Feeling completely refreshed, he looked around, guessing he was likely at the Augusta estate. He must have passed Evester’s test that night in the lab. She probably believed the hypnosis experiment had worked on him.

Quietly, Lynn got out of bed, dressed in the clothes prepared for him, and washed up before ringing the bell by the bed. Within seconds, a maid entered, smiling politely. Ｒ𝖆ℕǒＢÊŞ

“Sir, you’re awake…”

She paused upon seeing him fully dressed.

“You can just ring the bell if you need anything,” she said, bowing hesitantly. “Washing up, getting dressed—those tasks are what we’re here for.”

“It’s fine. Just lead the way,” Lynn replied calmly.

The maid blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I’d like to meet Her Highness,” he explained patiently.

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Flustered, she led him out of the room, clearly unsettled by his unexpected readiness.

Following her through long, ancient hallways adorned with statues and paintings, Lynn couldn’t help but admire the understated luxury of the Augusta estate. As he pondered what to say when he finally met Evester, two other maids passed by, casting haughty glances.

It was a look Lynn recognized well; they carried the same arrogance as the estate’s eldest son.

However, these maids seemed professional enough and respectfully bowed to him without causing any trouble.

“Her Highness is taking her afternoon tea on the lawn,” his maid informed him.

“Understood,” Lynn nodded, continuing down the hall.

He had barely taken a few steps when he overheard whispers behind him.

“Have you finished your cleaning? Did you mop the floors? Always slacking off—typical low-class behavior. The ones from the slums are all the same,” one maid sneered.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll get to it right away!” the young maid stammered.

“What did I tell you about using that smile to brush us off? It’s infuriating!”

“Your sister’s still sick, isn’t she? She must need money now more than ever. But given the state of your work, don’t expect a paycheck this month.”

“But… but last month’s salary was already—”

“Smack!”

A sharp slap echoed through the hallway.

Lynn sighed, stopping in his tracks. His system screen showed:

[Name: Nina Bellamy]

[Plot Level: E]

[Plot Deviation: 0.00%]

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, turning around. “I seem to have lost my way. Could you have the young lady who showed me here continue guiding me?”

The two haughty maids froze, fear flashing across their faces as they realized he hadn’t left.

Once they scurried off, the young maid, Nina, hesitated, looking away in an attempt to hide her tears. But a stray tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it, offering him a forced smile.

“Sir, I’ll guide you,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t often he saw such a submissive smile. Only those who’d been hurt and forced to comply wore that look—a mask of self-preservation that only encouraged the cruel to exploit them further.

Since Lynn considered himself a good person, he pretended not to notice her tears.

The estate was massive. After nearly ten minutes, they finally arrived at a side door on the first floor, where sunlight poured in.

“Sir, Her Highness is just beyond the door enjoying tea. I’ll take my leave now,” Nina said softly.

Lynn nodded and moved to open the door, but something held him back. Turning back to Nina, he said, “There’s a saying where I’m from—‘You are what you eat.’ I don’t entirely agree with it, but I’ll share this with you anyway.”

“Endlessly enduring suffering won’t make you stronger. If you want to rise, don’t just swallow bitterness—learn to conquer it.”

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