[Plot level character "Nina Bellamy" has deviated by 20.00%.]
After leaving the mansion through a side door and walking on the grass, Lynn suddenly heard the system prompt.
Those words he had just casually spoken, he hadn't expected them to cause a change in the plot deviation.
Moreover, the increase seemed a bit too large.
Lynn opened his system and checked his personal panel, only to find that his system points had not increased.
Upon reflection, it made sense.
If grades from F to S indicated the importance of the plot level, then naturally, the difficulty to raise the plot deviation would differ greatly.
Maid Nina's plot level was E, essentially the lowest, so changes could occur so easily.
In contrast, the other night, he had pulled out all the stops in front of Ivyst, and had even staged a grandiose death—it had only increased the plot deviation by 0.01%.
With this in mind, if he could raise Ivyst's plot deviation to 100.00%, he would earn 10,000 system points.
By the decreasing relationship, raising a plot deviation of an E-level character to 100.00% would give... 0.1 system points?
One point could only be gained by maxing out the plot deviation of ten E-level characters.
No wonder there was no reward for this increase.
Afterward, Lynn tried clicking on the roulette next to his personal attributes for a draw.
[Would you like to spend 10 system points to draw for an ability?]
The first draw only needed 1 point, and the next one went up tenfold.
By that logic, the third time would require 100 points, wouldn't it?
Lynn took a sharp breath.
While he was exploring and summarizing the system's rules, he suddenly caught sight of an umbrella in the distance.
Lynn immediately lost interest, his expression solemn as he closed the system and walked in that direction.
Under the umbrella, a woman clad in a black frilled long dress leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, gently sipping from a cup of hot tea.
Unexpectedly, today, the Princess had removed her mask, revealing her stunningly beautiful face.
Beside her stood the elderly housekeeper, silent as a statue.
Of course, if one were to only see such a scene, it would undoubtedly be tranquil and beautiful.
But, a few meters away from the umbrella, there was a glaring pool of fresh blood on the grass.
Two prisoners were seen completely pierced by numerous thorns, standing amidst the blood, resembling torture victims, their deaths exceedingly gruesome.
Seemingly nourished by the blood, a crimson rose was budding at the tip of the thorns.
Next to the two corpses, six more living prisoners were present.
From the strange tattoos on their necks, one could deduce that these were likely members of some cult, captured for reasons unknown.
At that moment, they were shivering, curled up on the ground.
Whether it was the negative effects of the Curse Mark on Ivyst's face, the sight of their dead companions, or both, it was hard to say.
Despite his trepidation, Lynn nonetheless approached as if nothing was amiss.
Facing Ivyst's calm and indifferent gaze, he was silent for a moment, with certain images unconsciously flashing through his mind.
Recalling the unjust treatment he had suffered at Augusta Manor and the humiliation of his fate being trifled with, Lynn bit down hard on his teeth.
He was a man, and he had to fight, to vent the bitterness and anger in his heart!
Thinking this way, Lynn took a deep breath.
Then with a thud, he kneeled on one knee and loudly said, "Respected and great Princess, future Saint Laurent VII, your loyal subordinate and inseparable family ally, Lynn Bartleion, reporting for duty!"
Ivyst, however, had not expected Lynn to find her during her interrogation of remnants from the Creationist School.
Seeing his readiness to face death, she thought he was going to make a fuss about leaving the manor, wanting his freedom.
Unexpectedly, the moment they met, he actually knelt down with a thud!
"Respected and great Princess, future Saint Laurent VII, your loyal subordinate and inseparable family ally, Lynn Bartleion, reporting for duty!"
His gaze was so sincere it almost sparkled with devotion, akin to a faithful believer beholding their deity, which was quite unnerving.
The elderly housekeeper next to her seemed to have never seen such a scene before. Although she maintained her composure, the corner of her eye twitched subtly.
Even Ivyst herself couldn't keep it together, and was momentarily choked by the warm tea.
She coughed lightly, then set down the bone china teacup.
For some reason, she felt a subtle, inexplicable pleasure in her heart.
The future Saint Laurent VII, this title deeply pleased her.
Typically surrounded by clumsily spoken subordinates who, despite their loyalty, inevitably made things dull with prolonged association, she had never met someone who could... speak .
It was as if a scheming, wily minister had suddenly mixed into a group of loyal retainers.
With this thought, she looked at Lynn playfully, "What, had a sudden change of heart?"
Lynn shook his head repeatedly, "I've suddenly reflected on my previous narrow-mindedness and stupidity and decided to stay by Your Highness's side, to listen to your teachings."
As he spoke, he stealthily surveyed Ivyst, then bowed his head again.
Seeing this small action, Ivyst couldn't help but frown deeply, her previously good mood instantly vanishing.
She hated being looked at the most.
Did he think that just because she spared his life, he could be so brazen?
The atmosphere abruptly grew colder.
But who would have known, Lynn spoke again in the next moment.
"Today, you are as beautiful as ever," he said eloquently and cheerfully, "I hope that every day in the future, I will have the opportunity to admire Your Highness's beauty as I do today."
Although she perceived them as likely flattery, Ivyst felt extremely comfortable at that moment.
The tenseness at the corners of her eyes relaxed a bit, transforming her usually grim expression into something much more radiant.
This time, it was the female housekeeper beside her who coughed.
Seemingly unable to tolerate the young man's sycophantic words any longer, she opened her eyes and looked towards Ivyst: "Princess, the interrogation has not yet concluded."
Upon hearing this, Ivyst nodded, then shifted her gaze, deciding not to focus her attention on him any longer.
Lynn could only maintain a kneeling position on the ground.
Meanwhile, he glanced from the corner of his eye at the cult members who were terrified to death in front of him.
What was going on here?
He was somewhat puzzled.
Soon, Ivyst reverted to her usual cold and formidable demeanor, her eyes seemingly devoid of any emotion, "Next one, heads or tails?"
Heeding these words, the prisoner on the far left trembled violently, wanting to lift his head to look at Ivyst, but the fear made him shiver uncontrollably.
Seeing his reaction, Ivyst's frown was imperceptible.
Indeed, any normal person who saw her would show the same expression.
Apparently, only that man was different from others.
The prisoner called upon, after seeing the miserable state of the two companions before him, couldn't help but swallow his saliva.
The previous two had both chosen tails; by probability, heads this time should have a greater chance, right?
This thought made him incredibly anxious.
Seeing this, Lynn suddenly understood.
It was a coin guessing game.
Ivyst did not pay attention to the prisoner; instead, she picked up her teacup and took another sip.
On the other hand, the elderly female housekeeper stepped forward, her expression placid, lifted her left hand with the back facing up, and flicked an ancient coin into the air with her right thumb, letting it spin upwards.
As the coin descended toward her hand, the housekeeper gently covered it with her hand.
Then, under everyone's watchful eyes, she slowly revealed the outcome.
"Princess, it's tails."
Before the prisoner, pale as a ghost, could react, countless thorns surged forward like a tide.
In an instant, they pierced countless bloody holes through his body!
And like the previous two prisoners, he was propped up by the thorns, standing erect while convulsing on the ground, his eyes filled with despair and unwillingness.
Simultaneously, a blood rose formed in the center of the thorns, bloomed a bit more.