Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 29: Reporting to HQ—I Think I’ve Discovered Perpetual Motion!

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

As the blood-red text emerged on the paper, Lynn raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Carefully, he took the paper from the box, scrutinizing it. He tried tearing it, crumpling it, and even folding it repeatedly, but nothing seemed capable of damaging it.

This was undoubtedly a high-sequence cursed relic. According to the novel’s lore, ancient cursed items with indestructible properties often possessed terrifying and dangerous abilities.

However, compared to some world-ending relics, this one seemed relatively safe. The rules etched on the paper suggested that as long as the conditions were adhered to, the relic’s behavior would remain predictable and non-lethal.

Glancing at the puppet lying motionless on the ground, Lynn noticed the thin streams of blood trickling from its head, which had been blown apart by two close-range bullets.

An idea struck him.

It didn’t specify whose blood.

Acting on this thought, Lynn returned the paper to the box, grabbed the puppet by its wooden leg, and hoisted it upside down. After a few shakes, a single drop of blood dripped into the box.

“Clink!”

The blood vanished instantly, replaced by a shiny imperial coin bearing the visage of Saint Roland VI.

Lynn’s jaw dropped.

Without hesitation, he pocketed the coin, his gaze toward the box now filled with newfound interest.

Predictably, the transaction wasn’t over.

The paper inside the box absorbed the completed message, and a new line of blood-red text appeared:

“Give me two drops of blood, and I’ll give you a coin.”

A swindler, huh? Lynn thought with amusement.

Still, he shook the puppet again, extracting two more drops and letting them drip into the box.

“Clink!”

Another coin materialized.

The next message appeared shortly thereafter:

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

Lynn repeated the process.

---

Ten minutes later.

With his pockets now jingling with gold coins, Lynn grinned from ear to ear.

Jackpot!

However, as the transactions progressed, the paper’s demands escalated to a staggering degree:

“Give me one thousand drops of blood, and I’ll give you a coin.”

The box had initially operated on a linear scale, but after a few exchanges, the requirements grew exponentially. The puppet’s diminutive body clearly wouldn’t last much longer.

Staring at the bloodless puppet, Lynn felt an urge to use it as a yo-yo, swinging it around to wring out every last drop of value.

But after a moment’s thought, he refrained.

The box’s transactions seemed endless, Lynn deduced. Human effort, however, had its limits. No one could feasibly drain all the blood from the world’s living beings just to meet the box’s demands.

What happens when the requirements exceed the provider’s capacity? Lynn wondered.

Still relying on the puppet’s blood and using it as the transaction’s subject, Lynn decided to observe.

---

As he waited, just as his internal clock ticked to about a minute, an abrupt change occurred.

“Pffft—!”

A muffled noise echoed as the puppet suddenly deflated like a leaking balloon. Its body shriveled rapidly until it crumbled silently into fragments.

Lynn stared at the pile of broken parts and offered the puppet a second of silent tribute.

Turning back to the box, he noticed a fresh line of text appearing on the paper:

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

So, my theory was correct.

The box’s behavior mirrored age-old creditor tactics. From his past life, Lynn had read countless novels with similar mechanics.

If the transaction terms weren’t fulfilled, the box would forcefully extract its payment. Should the subject exceed their capacity, they’d be consumed entirely, resetting the cycle.

Just like the unfortunate puppet—it couldn’t meet the one-thousand-drop requirement and was drained dry.

Still, this alone is a little dull, Lynn thought, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

His musings were interrupted by a faint noise. Glancing back, he saw the puppet’s fragmented remains shifting on the ground.

Under an unseen force, the broken pieces began to reassemble. Even the damaged areas seemed to reverse time, restoring to their original state.

In moments, the puppet was whole again, its body full and intact.

Right. It did say it revives after ten minutes, Lynn recalled, inhaling sharply as his eyes lit up with excitement.

I take it back. This isn’t dull at all.

Watching the puppet come back to life, Lynn felt an overwhelming urge to address his previous world:

"Reporting to HQ—I think I’ve discovered perpetual motion!"

Feeling the intensity of Lynn’s greedy gaze, the newly revived puppet shivered, still disoriented.

“Y-you Trickery-believing scum, what are you trying to—”

Before it could finish, Lynn seized its head and slammed it into the wall.

---

In the observation room, Morris winced as he watched Lynn’s brutal actions.

“Wow... Uh... He really held back that night, didn’t he?” Morris murmured, beads of sweat on his forehead.

The blood-soaked Lynn now wore an innocent grin, his pockets jingling with coins, evoking dread in Morris.

Had he inadvertently brought a burgeoning psychopath into the manor?

Meanwhile, Milanie, clutching her stomach, burst into laughter.

“Haha! I knew it—this kid’s a genius!” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

No one had anticipated such an approach. To them, the Deadly Marionette had always been a containment tool rather than a resource for exploitation.

Rhine, on the other hand, was livid.

“This isn’t over yet,” he muttered darkly. “That box has a mind of its own.”

---

“Don’t kill me! I give up! I GIVE UP!”

By its fifth revival, the puppet had completely broken down. Squatting in a corner, it hugged its knees and wailed in defeat.

At this point, Lynn’s table was piled high with coins.

“Don’t quit now! You’re doing great!” Lynn said, grinning devilishly as he lifted the puppet once more.

“I—I know secrets about the Prisoner of Fate!” the puppet shouted, trembling.

Lynn paused.

At that moment, the puppet’s suppression field finally activated, nullifying all supernatural phenomena within five meters.

Lynn promptly tossed it into the corner, stepping back from the box’s effective range.

“Stay there and don’t move,” Lynn ordered.

The puppet obeyed, curling up tightly and muttering, “I’m so stupid. I should’ve known Trickery believers are all psychos…”

Ignoring it, Lynn turned his attention back to the box.

This time, the blood-red text on the paper had changed:

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

Lynn smiled.

Now this... This is getting interesting.