Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 62: The Neglected Princess

“This is so embarrassing.”

In the luxurious banquet hall, Greya hung her head low, overwhelmed by the strange gazes directed their way.

However, Lynn, who stood beside her wearing a pointed raven mask, didn’t seem to share her concern.

Holding a drink, he inserted the straw through the eyehole of his mask and began sipping audibly.

“Well, I’m wearing a mask. If anyone’s embarrassed, it’s the Augusta family, not me,” he said cheerfully.

At the same time, his gaze discreetly swept across the room.

The banquet had officially begun.

The grand hall was bustling with guests. On the central stage, musicians were performing a melodious waltz. Alongside, a long dining table covered in an intricately patterned cloth showcased an array of dishes: steaks, desserts, fruits, and other cold delicacies. The guest count, excluding the attendants, had already exceeded two hundred.

The entire Tyrius estate exuded opulence. The chandelier bathed the hall in warm golden light, and the floor tiles gleamed with intricate gilded patterns.

Though the dance segment had yet to begin, small groups of guests were scattered throughout the hall, sipping champagne and chatting.

As for Her Highness, the Princess, she had been promptly surrounded by several young ladies and noblewomen from the Tyrius family as soon as she entered.

Contrary to what one might expect, she wasn’t ostracized.

After all, these women were from a duke’s family, and Yveste belonged to the imperial family. As long as she didn’t remove her mask, decorum would be maintained.

“That man over there is the bishop responsible for the Orne City parish of the Divine Order Church,” Greya whispered suddenly, lowering her voice. “His name is Mozel Brandy. He’s one of the most influential figures in the region, rumored to have deep ties with many prominent nobles in the capital.”

Lynn’s eyes fell on the middle-aged man in the clergy robe, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

At that moment, the lights in the manor dimmed slightly before focusing on the third-floor balcony.

The guests all looked up.

Standing at the edge of the staircase was a middle-aged man with a commanding presence, dressed in a military uniform.

He looked to be in his forties, his jet-black hair slicked back. His broad shoulders and chest were adorned with an impressive collection of medals.

This was Bail Tyrius, the host of the banquet and head of the Tyrius family.

His sharp gaze swept across the room.

Seeing that everyone had fallen silent and was staring at him with bated breath, the Duke of Tyrius suddenly broke into a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this charity gala,” he announced in a booming voice. “I hope you enjoy this long night—drink, feast, and be merry.”

“And for those of you still single,” he added with a sly grin, “I have only one piece of advice: stop being single!”

“Enjoy the banquet, and don’t miss out on the upcoming dance!”

With that, he raised his glass and downed his drink in one go.

The atmosphere in the hall instantly grew livelier, and the event reached a new peak of excitement.

Afterward, Duke Tyrius descended the staircase, picked up another glass of wine from a tray held by an attendant, and began weaving through the crowd.

He paused occasionally to exchange pleasantries with a lady, engage in hushed conversations with a noble, or share a knowing smile with someone.

Though he was a soldier, his upbringing in the empire’s upper echelons had clearly prepared him for this social dance.

But as Lynn observed for a while, he noticed something was off.

By all logic, the most distinguished guest tonight—if not Yveste—would at least rank among the top few. Yet, that old fox, Duke Tyrius, had already downed several glasses of wine, warmly chatting with many nobles from Orne City. Even those he wasn’t familiar with received a courteous greeting.

Except for one person.

Not once had he approached Her Highness, the Princess.

Lynn glanced over at Yveste, who stood among the noblewomen. While she occasionally chimed in on their conversations, Lynn, well-acquainted with her personality, could detect a chill in her crimson eyes.

It was clear that Yveste had also grasped the unspoken message in Duke Tyrius’s behavior.

Sending her an invitation and maintaining decorum was a matter of noble politeness and respect for the imperial family.

But as a soldier, he clearly didn’t want to involve himself in the succession battle too early by taking sides.

Or perhaps he simply didn’t think much of Yveste’s chances.

Either interpretation was enough to ruffle her feathers.

“Do you feel like it’s gotten a bit colder in here?” Greya murmured suddenly.

“Heh.”

...

Time flew by, and the banquet reached its halfway point.

As the donation box was wheeled to the center of the hall, the chatter quieted.

It was clear to everyone that the evening’s main event had arrived.

They all understood that the Tyrius family wasn’t truly incapable of affording compensation for disabled soldiers. This was merely a pretext to gauge certain things—or perhaps to pressure some individuals into declaring their allegiance.

As silence fell over the crowd, Duke Tyrius acted as if he didn’t notice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve now arrived at the charity donation segment. I deeply appreciate your generous attendance tonight. On behalf of over twenty thousand disabled soldiers of the military, I offer you my heartfelt gratitude.”

Saying this, he gave a slight bow in front of everyone.

A heavy silence followed. Many guests began glancing around, gauging each other’s reactions.

No one wanted to be the first to step forward.

Orne City was a tangled web of power dynamics, where even two seemingly unrelated families could have deeply intertwined interests.

Everyone understood that this was Duke Tyrius’s way of demanding their pledge of loyalty.

But whoever acted first would immediately become a target. Once the duke left, the local forces would undoubtedly retaliate, ostracizing the outlier.

After all, the accumulated unpaid taxes over the years amounted to an astronomical sum. If they were forced to pay it all back, the damage would be devastating.

Rather than bleeding themselves dry, they’d rather band together and show this “dragon crossing the river” just how tough the local snakes could be.

And besides, it wasn’t their place to step forward first.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Duke Tyrius’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he had gained some insight into the situation.

Clap, clap, clap!

Suddenly, a round of applause broke the silence, drawing everyone’s attention toward the source of the sound.

The middle-aged man in the clergy robe was clapping.

The sight of him made many in the crowd exhale in relief.

Bishop Mozel stepped forward through the crowd, his hands still clapping, his expression filled with respect.

“I’ve long heard of the duke’s deep compassion for soldiers. Seeing it firsthand today, I must say it is truly admirable and deserving of my utmost respect,” he said.

“Though Orne City lies on the border, and the Divine Order Church faces many challenges here, out of humanitarian concern for the soldiers who defend our nation, I will personally represent this parish in donating 5,000 gold coins to the military.”

As he spoke, he placed an envelope into the donation box.

“Thank you for your generosity,” Duke Tyrius replied coolly.

For a donation, this was an undeniably substantial amount. Yet the duke’s demeanor betrayed no trace of joy.

Meanwhile, the hall filled with a round of approving applause.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Mozel gestured for silence, his face earnest as he turned back to Duke Tyrius.

“In addition, I have a gift I wish to present to you, Your Grace, as well as to all the distinguished guests here tonight.”

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