SSS Hypnosis: I Made the Heroines Beg for Forgiveness-Chapter 39: Cain Coolus

"BASTARD!"

"FILTHY BASTARD!"

"TRASH!"

"YOU’RE NOT FIT TO BE A DUKE’S SON!"

Benedict simply stared at the crowd of nobles hurling insults at him.

He had no idea what to do. How was he supposed to make these people follow Jack the Ripper’s orders now?

At this moment, every one of them saw him as an accomplice to Jack the Ripper.

Bam!

(You have taken 2 damage!)

A stone smashed into the side of his head, blood instantly dripping down his temple.

Benedict turned his gaze toward the man who had thrown it.

His eyes sharpened, cold and focused. Making the noble flinch and step back.

There was nothing in Benedict’s eyes now, no warmth, no emotion. If not for the hypnosis he’d placed on himself, his expression would have been shattered beyond repair.

Make them regret it.

Make them regret it!

MAKE THEM REGRET IT!

The voice inside him roared, the real Benedict seething with rage.

Warm blood slid down from his forehead, reaching his lips. Salty.

He turned his head and found Jack the Ripper.

Jack stood with his arms folded, casually shifting his appearance like a man trying on clothes.

From a white-haired, red-eyed man dressed in immaculate white, he became a brown-haired, black-eyed commoner in plain garb—then changed again and again, as if mocking Benedict.

Benedict’s lips twitched. Even with his hypnosis suppressing his emotions, he could still feel the storm brewing inside.

After a while, the girl with black hair beside Jack nudged him with her elbow.

Jack chuckled and patted her head.

Benedict let out a bitter laugh.

This had all been planned. Jack knew Benedict was the most hated noble here. He knew Benedict didn’t have the money for a private carriage. He knew... everything.

So what now?

Benedict turned back to the crowd. Dozens of nobles stared daggers at him.

"Did you not hear what he just said?" Benedict’s voice was deep, cold.

"You think we’re deaf?! Of course we heard it!" one of them spat.

"Then get moving! Gather up and form a line, now!" Benedict barked.

"WHY DON’T YOU STAND IN FRONT OF HIM AND GET CHECKED FIRST?!" another noble shouted, voice sharp with fury.

Benedict’s anger rose, but his hypnosis held it in place.

"He told all of us to gather and line up. All of us," Benedict shot back, his tone firm.

A small figure shuffled out from the crowd—a short boy with green hair and green eyes, head lowered like he wished to vanish.

Hand trembling, he raised it.

Benedict recognized him instantly.

"U-uhm... may I speak?" the boy asked, so softly it was nearly lost in the noise.

The nobles frowned in confusion, their stares making the boy shrink even further.

"M-my name is Cain. Cain Coolus. F-from the Coolus family," Cain stammered.

Benedict kept quiet, letting the boy talk. He had a feeling this could turn into a very useful miracle.

"Well? Spit it out, moss-head!" an older noble snapped.

"Let him speak, you fossil!" Benedict cut in sharply.

The old man’s face flushed red, teeth grinding in anger.

"You have five minutes left," Jack the Ripper called from behind, sounding as if he were enjoying the show.

Benedict’s eyes locked onto Cain. "Quickly. Speak."

"U-uh... I think we should listen to this man," Cain said quietly, pointing at Benedict.

Benedict smiled without realizing it. One ally.

"What nonsense is that, boy?!" the older noble barked.

"Shut it! No one needs to see your disgusting yellow teeth," Benedict shot back, shielding Cain.

He tapped his foot impatiently. No backup had arrived yet.

"My skill tells me... if we follow his words, we’ll survive," Cain murmured, still pointing at Benedict.

That made a few eyebrows rise. For the first time, the crowd gave Cain their full attention.

Benedict’s smile widened. This was exactly what he’d been waiting for. Cain—just a side character in The Chronicle of Enzo.

On the surface, Cain was a timid kitten. But his skill... it was invaluable.

"Raise your head, Cain," Benedict said gently.

Cain looked up, meeting not hostility but a warm smile.

"Would you explain your skill to them?" Benedict’s tone was courteous.

"U-uh... my skill is like... a glimpse of the future. A déjà vu. And in that glimpse, I saw us all gathering and lining up. Then... I saw myself sleeping in my room like normal," Cain explained, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Inside, Benedict celebrated. Cain had seen them all gather in front of Jack the Ripper, and then himself safe in his bed.

That meant Cain would live... and the rest of them probably would too.

"Is that clear enough?! Did you hear him? Or are your brains in your knees?" Benedict called out.

Some still glared, but more and more looked uncertain. Doubt was replacing defiance.

"Alright," a young noble stepped forward, confident and strong.

He had black hair, violet eyes, and carried a sword as tall as he was strapped to his back. Broad-shouldered, muscular, yet clearly young.

"I believe you," the man said to Cain.

"Th-thank you, Regy Smith," Cain replied with a timid smile.

Benedict nodded in satisfaction. So they were friends.

After Regy stepped up, the others followed.

"I trust Cain Coolus. He once told me where my cat had gone missing," a young noblewoman said.

Step by step, more nobles moved forward.

In less than two minutes, nearly all fifty nobles—low and mid-ranked alike, stood beside Cain and Regy.

Only the old nobleman remained.

Benedict’s stare burned into him until the man snarled and ground his teeth, but eventually he stepped forward too.

Now, fifty nobles stood before Benedict, waiting.

Pride swelled in his chest. There was just one thing left to do.

He turned toward Jack the Ripper.

For the first time, Jack wasn’t smiling. His expression was serious, as if he hadn’t expected Benedict to pull it off.

Ha. Got you, Benedict thought.

"They’ve gathered. Do your inspection, Jack the Ripper," Benedict said firmly.

"Before that..." Jack began walking toward him.

He stopped three meters away, then turned his gaze to Cain.

His eyes were like pools of fresh blood, sharp and terrifying.

"...Come here, Cain Coolus," Jack said, his voice heavy and cold, gone was the playful tone from before.