Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 143: Hello, I’m Here to Kill

“......”

Eleanor sat quietly before the vanity mirror, her expression numb. She held her long, jet-black hair in one hand, brushing from root to tip in repetitive, mechanical motions.

Dressed in an elegant gown, she looked every bit the refined and noble lady. If she were to attend a banquet, she would undoubtedly become the center of attention.

And indeed, tonight she was slated to attend one such event—the send-off banquet hosted by the Royal Extraordinary Academy, a tradition spanning centuries.

The occasion was to bid farewell to the academy’s fourth-year students, who would soon embark on missions at the demon battlefield. On this final evening, the girls would don luxurious dresses while the boys dressed in issued military uniforms. After the cold buffet concluded, they would share a final dance in the ballroom.

For many, this would likely be their last meeting, as the cruel battlefield claimed countless lives.

Even though the Bartleon family had fallen, and Eleanor disliked such occasions, she couldn’t defy the academy’s regulations. She no longer possessed the privilege to be willful.

“Knock, knock...”

The sound of knocking pulled Eleanor from her daze. She frowned slightly before speaking.

“Come in.”

When the door opened, Eleanor saw a freckled maid with braided hair timidly step into the room.

Relieved, Eleanor let out a soft sigh, though her eyes remained dull.

“Celine, it’s you?”

The maid put a finger to her lips, whispering, “Shh, Miss Eleanor, keep your voice down. I came here secretly without the head maid noticing.”

Celine quickly approached, and upon seeing how Eleanor’s once-cherished, delicate face had grown gaunt, a trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes.

Taking the brush from Eleanor’s hand, she began combing her hair gently while speaking in a low voice.

“Miss Eleanor, I just received news that Viscount Wilson’s family seems willing to provide you shelter. He once served as an adjutant under the Marquis, so he should be trustworthy.”

“Uncle Wilson?”

Eleanor’s eyes lit up briefly.

Currently under tight surveillance by the Mosgra family, she was surrounded by unfamiliar servants clearly planted by them. Her movements were stifled, her life reduced to that of a prisoner rather than a noble heiress. Even buying a book required prior inspection by the head maid, Maria.

They feared any potential connections she might reestablish with her father’s old allies.

But today, her longtime personal maid, Celine, had brought her a glimmer of hope.

“Did he say when?”

Eleanor instinctively gripped Celine’s arm, like a drowning person clutching their last lifeline.

She was confined to the Bartleon Estate, with her unconscious father as the perfect hostage. If Viscount Wilson could rescue both her and her father, it would keep the family’s flame of hope alive.

Celine’s expression turned serious.

“Tonight. After the academy banquet, he’ll arrange for someone to intercept your carriage midway. As for the Marquis, he assured me he has a plan.”

Eleanor’s eyes flickered with excitement.

She had been trapped in this cage woven by the Mosgra family for so long that she’d almost lost all hope of freedom.

Now, an old ally was extending a helping hand—how could she not be overjoyed?

Still, the hardships of the past year had taught her caution.

Secrecy ensures success.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her gaze was as dull as before, as though her earlier excitement had never existed.

“Leave now. Be careful not to arouse suspicion.”

Half an hour later, Eleanor, fully dressed, left her room and parted ways with Celine. Accompanied by two unfamiliar maids, she made her way to the head maid’s quarters.

The room, a master bedroom, was far larger and more lavishly decorated than Eleanor’s own, exuding an air of inversion and overreach.

Maria, the head maid, was already waiting inside.

“You’re late,” Maria said coldly, glancing at her pocket watch. “Punctuality is a virtue of nobility, but it seems you lack such qualities. Perhaps the Bartleon family’s lax upbringing is to blame for this unbecoming behavior.”

“No matter. The future is long. I’ll make sure to teach you these lessons one by one so you’ll never forget.”

Closing the watch, Maria scrutinized Eleanor as though she were inspecting an object. For a mere head maid, she exuded an air of superiority unbecoming of her position.

Eleanor, however, remained silent, standing stoically.

Maria frowned at her unresponsiveness.

“Your style leans more towards purity rather than faux maturity. Your current hairstyle doesn’t suit tonight’s banquet; it reflects poorly on the Bartleon family’s reputation. Don’t you think it should be changed?”

Eleanor’s face remained expressionless.

“Do as you see fit.”

Maria nodded.

“Bring her.”

Two maids stepped forward, undoing Eleanor’s carefully styled hair and redoing it into something less striking, as per Maria’s instructions.

Perhaps the true purpose was merely to ensure Eleanor wouldn’t outshine the true star of the evening.

It didn’t need to be said who that star was.

“Eunice Mosgra will also attend tonight’s banquet,” Maria remarked nonchalantly as the maids worked on Eleanor’s hair.

“As one of the hosts and a prominent socialite in Glostein, you should learn from her behavior and demeanor.”

“Additionally, I hear the Fourth Prince will also make an appearance. He’ll use the royal name to send off the departing students. You’re to close the event by dancing the final waltz with him.”

“Understood, Miss Eleanor?”

Though phrased as a question, Maria’s tone brooked no argument.

Since the Mosgra family had taken over the Bartleon Estate, they had seized indirect control. With the Marquis comatose, they had little fear of Eleanor rebelling.

Eleanor instinctively hid the pinprick marks on her wrist with her sleeve as a hint of anger flickered in her sapphire-blue eyes.

Ever since her altercation with Eunice, the Fourth Prince’s bloodletting demands had increased—from a single vial to ten.

But she wasn’t foolish enough to let herself be exploited further. She had already severed the deal.

Eleanor’s bloodline—more precisely, the Bartleon family’s blood—seemed to hold a particular fascination for the Fourth Prince.

To force her compliance with his demands, numerous pressures had been heaped upon her recently, including the Grand Court’s reopening of investigations into the Bartleon family.

It left Eleanor utterly despondent, to the point where death seemed an acceptable escape.

But today, at least, Celine’s news had been a rare glimmer of hope.

“I understand.”

After a moment of silence, Eleanor replied softly.

Hearing this, a faint trace of surprise flashed in Maria’s eyes.

“Miss Eleanor seems particularly obedient today. Did something good happen?”

Her tone was laced with subtle implication.

Eleanor’s heart clenched, but outwardly she maintained her composure.

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

Maria narrowed her eyes, studying Eleanor for a moment before nodding.

“Your compliance makes our job much easier.”

She patted Eleanor’s shoulder.

“The carriage is ready outside. You may leave now.”

Without a word, Eleanor lifted her skirt and, accompanied by Maria, walked slowly out of the Bartleon Estate.

As the carriage drew near, Celine’s earlier news echoed in Eleanor’s mind, causing her heartbeat to quicken.

Almost there.

Tonight, I’ll finally escape this cursed cage and break free from the Mosgra family’s surveillance!

And then, I will—

Her thoughts were abruptly shattered by the sharp sound of breaking glass.

Eleanor instinctively turned to see a figure plummeting from above.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and she read terror and despair in their gaze.

Thud!

The sickening impact of a body hitting the ground reverberated in her ears, followed by a faint cloud of dust.

A vivid splash of crimson began spreading outward from the twisted, unrecognizable form.

Eleanor stared blankly at the scene before her. It was as if her once-burning heart had suddenly frozen, her blood turning to ice.

Moments ago, Celine had been brushing her hair. Now, she was nothing more than a lifeless corpse.

“Perhaps an unruly maid couldn’t endure her punishment,” Maria’s detached voice drifted over, as though she had long anticipated this outcome.

“You see, only by learning obedience can one have a brighter future.”

“Oh, by the way, Miss Eleanor,” Maria continued casually, “I believe this was your former personal maid. A habitual liar, if I recall correctly. I reassigned her for your sake. Surely you didn’t believe any of her absurd stories when you spoke with her?”

Eleanor’s eyes welled with tears, her already hollow gaze plunging into despair.

Everything she had done had been under their watch.

You… vile demons.

After watching the distraught Eleanor board the carriage, Maria turned back toward the estate, accompanied by several maids.

It seemed Eleanor Bartleon’s will to resist had been thoroughly crushed.

For now, she would pose no further obstacle.

With this, the last vestige of resistance from the Bartleon family was as good as eliminated, fulfilling the Mosgra family’s orders perfectly.

Maria allowed herself a faint smile.

The estate now housed only an unconscious Marquis Bartleon and Eleanor herself.

The eldest son had long since died in battle. His widow, though currently missing, carried a child with legitimate claims to the Bartleon title—a potential threat that the Mosgra family was undoubtedly searching for.

But Glostein was vast, and results would take time.

Fortunately, that wasn’t Maria’s concern.

Her task was to keep the estate firmly under control, awaiting further instructions from the Mosgra family.

Pausing mid-step, Maria turned to the maid accompanying her.

“Any news about the second son, the one exiled to the frontier?”

“None. He’s likely already dead.”

Maria nodded.

Moments later, a servant approached.

“Head maid, dinner is ready. Shall I serve it now?”

“Go ahead.”

Minutes later, Maria sat alone at the head of the dining table in the Bartleon Estate’s grand hall.

Under the flickering candlelight, she surveyed the dishes being served one by one. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to revel in the illusion of control, as if she truly were the head of the family.

Even if she wasn’t, did it matter?

Even Eleanor, once the Bartleon family’s most cherished daughter, had been forced to bow before her.

Such was the intoxicating power of authority.

Maria smiled at the thought.

But just as she was savoring the pleasant atmosphere of her dinner, an abrupt, violent sound shattered the peace.

Bang!

The estate’s main doors had been kicked open.

Startled, Maria rose from her seat and hurried toward the entrance.

There, she saw a group of rugged men with frontier features storming into the Bartleon Estate. They lined up in formation in the main hall, as if awaiting the arrival of some distinguished figure.

“Who are you people? This is Bartleon territory! Without the master’s permission, you have no right to intrude!”

Maria tried to project an air of authority, signaling the estate guards to intervene.

But the intruders ignored her entirely, not even sparing her a glance.

Then came the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps from the doorway.

The real instigator had arrived.

Maria frowned deeply, wondering who could be so audacious as to challenge the Mosgra family, currently at the height of their power in the Imperial Capital.

Whoever it was, they would pay dearly for their insolence.

Or so she thought—until she raised her eyes and froze in place.

A black-haired, blue-eyed youth stepped into the hall, backlit by the faint light of the setting sun. Though he wore a gentle smile, his eyes held no warmth, and a chilling aura surrounded him, like a storm of ice and snow.

“It’s… you?”

Her voice was filled with shock.

Not long ago, she had heard from the servants that the Bartleon family’s second son was likely dead at the frontier.

And yet, here he was, standing alive before her.

It felt like a surreal dream.

Recalling the chain of events between him and the Mosgra family, Maria realized that much of the strife had stemmed from the conflicts involving Miss Irina and this very second son.

For some reason, as she stared at the youth before her, an unsettling premonition stirred within her.

“Been over a year since I’ve been home, and now it’s full of strangers,” the young man said, brushing dust off his shoulder.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Lynn Bartleon, the only legitimate and lawful heir to this estate. You may call me Master or Young Master Lynn.”

Trouble had arrived.

Suppressing her chaotic thoughts, Maria took a deep breath.

“Apologies, Young Master Lynn, but I have received no prior notice of your return,” she said, her voice even.

“So before you enter, I must ask that you provide proof of identity to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings.”

It wasn’t an intentional provocation; she had already sent word to the Mosgra family. Buying time until their arrival was her only option, as she lacked the authority to deal with Lynn directly.

However, Maria had miscalculated one crucial detail.

Upon hearing her words, Lynn sighed for some inexplicable reason.

“It seems the whole ‘politeness first’ approach just doesn’t suit me… Fine, no more formalities.”

He shook his head and gestured to his frontier retainers.

“Take them out. No—capture them alive for now.”

“Then find out where Eleanor is for me.”