Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 77: Good Evening, Bishop

Who is trying to destroy me?!

Mozel gritted his teeth in fury as the thought churned in his mind.

Gazing at the crowd of enraged citizens before him, he realized he stood at a pivotal crossroads that would determine his fate.

One thing was certain: everything that had transpired tonight would spread like wildfire—not just throughout Orne City, but across the southern province and even as far as the Imperial Capital itself.

If he failed to handle this crisis properly, he was utterly doomed.

His legs felt slightly weak, but years of weathering storms had honed his resilience.

Though his mind raced with chaotic thoughts, his expression betrayed only a trace of stiffness. He knew that if he lost his composure, the situation would spiral beyond recovery.

Taking a deep breath, Mozel straightened his back.

His voice, infused with Extraordinary Power, reverberated across the square.

The forceful command stunned the crowd into an uneasy silence. Though still skeptical, the citizens, clinging to a sliver of hope, decided to hear what he had to say.

As the noise subsided, Mozel exhaled slightly in relief.

“You must all be thinking,” he began coldly, “that Mozel is a greedy man. That I’ve hoarded vast sums of money—donations and offerings meant for the Lord—for my personal use. Isn’t that right?”

“In your hearts, am I truly such an untrustworthy figure?”

His stern, angry tone caught many by surprise. The image of their usually kind and generous bishop being so severe made some subconsciously avoid his gaze, their doubts momentarily shaken.

After all, could the benevolent, compassionate Mozel they had always known truly be a greedy, corrupt man?

A wave of uncertainty rippled through the crowd.

The truth is, the masses are easily swayed.

In the face of authority and seemingly credible words, even the most outrageous actions can be explained away.

For the citizens, Mozel wasn’t just a representative of the Divine Order Church.

In their eyes, he was a tangible, accessible figure—far more real than the distant and unseen Master of a Billion Stars.

Their faith wasn’t solely in the god they worshipped. It was also in the institution and the people who embodied it.

And as part of this vast institution, Mozel had become a trusted figure in Orne City, a cornerstone of their belief.

This trust, in itself, was a tool to sustain faith.

Seeing the crowd lapse into silence, Mozel inwardly relaxed.

The hardest part was over.

He continued, “Since you’re all so curious about why the Divine Order Church didn’t participate in the donation drive for disabled soldiers, allow me to explain.”

“The Lord has taught us to be good people, to perform good deeds, and never turn a blind eye to the suffering of others.”

“In adherence to His teachings, we have been quietly working to help those soldiers who sacrificed themselves to protect our homeland.”

“The silence you’ve seen these past few days isn’t a sign of indifference—it’s because we’ve been mobilizing all our resources behind the scenes to raise funds.”

“As you can see,” Mozel gestured to the scattered gold coins on the ground, “these coins, those crates, and everything contained within them…”

“All of this was prepared under the name of the Divine Order Church for charity, not for personal gain, as you might have assumed.”

“Do you understand?”

Mozel’s voice was solemn, his tone deliberate.

It was, of course, a lie.

Donating all that money would ensure he wouldn’t live to see another day.

This was nothing more than a stalling tactic.

Mozel believed the masses had short memories.

In the days to come, he could orchestrate a series of distracting events across Orne City to shift their focus and bury the current controversy.

“Is that… so?”

“A million gold coins! That’s more than all the other churches combined!”

“Does this mean some of my donations are part of that?”

“Truly remarkable, the Divine Order Church never disappoints!”

Hearing the excited chatter of the crowd, Mozel felt a weight lift from his chest.

He thought, perhaps this ordeal had been narrowly resolved.

But the ordeal was far from over.

Before Mozel could fully regain his composure, an unwelcome voice cut through the crowd like a blade.

“Oh? So what you’re saying, Bishop, is that the one million gold coins behind you are entirely meant as donations for the Empire’s disabled soldiers?”

The speaker paused, pushing through the crowd. “If that’s the case, allow me to thank you and the church on behalf of Duke Tyrius for your generosity.”

The moment Mozel heard the voice, his skin prickled with goosebumps.

That lunatic!

He instinctively looked up to see a striking young man with black hair and blue eyes, striding toward him confidently, flanked by several guards.

It’s him...

Recalling their first encounter at the charity banquet a few days ago, Mozel clenched his teeth in fury.

It was this young lunatic who had shot and killed the Mosgra family heir on the spot, earning Mozel a harsh reprimand from the Second Prince.

And now, it seemed this boy was also behind tonight’s chaos.

No—perhaps everything, starting from that night, had been orchestrated by him and the Third Princess to pull Duke Tyrius into their scheme and set the stage for this donation frenzy.

A sworn enemy!

Cold killing intent flickered in Mozel’s eyes.

“Good evening, Bishop,” Lynn greeted, his expression calm as ever.

As if suddenly remembering something, Lynn reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, firing a shot into the air.

“Everyone, go home! Can’t you see the Bishop is busy dealing with important matters? Show some respect!”

The citizens, startled by the sudden gunfire, scattered quickly, their murmurs fading into the night.

“Good,” Lynn said, enjoying the newfound silence as he returned the pistol to his pocket. His tone was light but laced with menace. “Now that the crowd is gone and the fire is mostly under control... shall we discuss the details of this donation?”

“You’ve been waiting here for me, haven’t you?!”

Mozel’s face darkened as he glared at Lynn.

At this point, it was all too clear—the entire evening’s events had been orchestrated by the young man standing before him.

First, Lynn had planted seeds of doubt and dissatisfaction in the minds of the church’s followers through public sentiment. Then he had arranged for the fire to expose Mozel’s hidden stash of funds. Finally, he had orchestrated this moment to detonate those seeds of discontent before the congregation.

Cunning and shameless!

Lynn shrugged casually. “Don’t answer my question with a question, Bishop.”

Mozel let out a cold laugh. “Do you think you’ve won? That you can manipulate public opinion to corner the church and roast me alive?”

“Just wait and see, you little b****** from the Bartleon family!”

With that, Mozel spun on his heel to leave.

But before he could take a step, Lynn’s voice drifted lazily through the night air.

“By my calculations, the Second Prince should be arriving any moment now.”

Mozel froze mid-step.

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