Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 163 --

"Your Highness!" Ken’s voice finally broke through the static, sharp with urgency. "Don’t try to move. Just—just breathe. I’m getting help."

She wanted to respond. Wanted to tell him about the danger, about the logical certainty that this was a setup, that someone was going to strike while she was helpless.

But her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Words dissolved before reaching her tongue.

The room spun faster. Her heart stuttered—one beat too fast, the next sluggish, rhythm collapsing into chaos. Magical energy sparked along her skin, visible even through her blurred vision as faint blue-white traces that danced like static electricity.

Ken lowered her onto the bed, his movements careful despite obvious exhaustion. She could see sweat beading on his forehead—or was that just visual distortion? Everything bled together, reality and hallucination mixing until she couldn’t distinguish between them.

"I need—" He turned toward the door. "I need to get the healer. You’re—this is getting worse."

Elara’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist with strength that surprised them both. The magical contact flared brighter, blue sparks jumping between their skin.

Ken hissed in pain but didn’t pull away.

"Don’t... leave," she managed to force out. Each word was a battle. "Not... safe. They’re... coming."

"Who’s coming?" Ken’s voice gentled, the tone you’d use with someone delirious. "Your Highness, no one can get past the guards—"

"Poisoned me. Will... finish..." Her grip tightened, nails digging in. "Not... stupid. Strike now... while..."

She couldn’t finish. The thought slipped away like oil on water.

But Ken’s expression shifted—from concerned caretaker to something sharper. Combat awareness. He’d spent enough time around Elara to recognize her tactical instincts, poison or no poison.

"You think this was a setup," he said slowly. "Incapacitate you, then strike while you’re vulnerable."

She nodded, the movement making the room spin worse.

Ken’s jaw set. "Then I’m not leaving. Marcus and Iris are outside the door. No one gets through them."

"Not... enough," Elara gasped. "Need... more. Need—"

Her body convulsed suddenly, back arching off the bed. The magical discharge intensified, sparks becoming small arcs of blue lightning that jumped from her skin to the sheets, the bedframe, Ken’s arm where he still held her.

He gritted his teeth against the pain but didn’t let go.

"Fuck. Okay. Okay." He reached for the communication crystal on the nightstand with his free hand. Spoke quickly into it: "Code black. Fourth floor, Princess’s chambers. I need every available knight. Now."

Static crackled back, then a voice: "Sir, we’re already spread thin covering the—"

"I don’t care where you pull them from. Get them here. The Princess is having a medical crisis and she believes we’re about to be hit."

A pause. Then: "Understood. Three minutes."

Ken set down the crystal and turned back to Elara, who was still trembling, still sparking with uncontrolled power. "Three minutes. Can you hold on for three minutes?"

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Her consciousness was fragmenting, awareness flickering in and out like a candle in wind.

But she heard footsteps. Multiple sets. Running.

The door burst open—Marcus and Iris rushed in, followed by three more knights Elara didn’t recognize through her failing vision.

"Sir!" Marcus took in the scene: Elara convulsing on the bed, magical energy arcing off her in visible waves, Ken looking half-dead from proximity exposure. "What do you need?"

"Perimeter," Ken ordered, his command voice cutting through despite exhaustion. "Full lockdown. No one in or out except the healer. And someone get Lord Demerti—his Master’s magic is out of control and I don’t know how to stop it."

The knights moved immediately. Two took positions flanking the door. One went to the window, checking the exterior approach. Marcus pulled out his sword, the blade inscribed with anti-magic runes that began glowing in response to Elara’s power.

"The discharge is getting worse," Iris observed, keeping her distance. Smart—she could see what prolonged contact was doing to Ken. "She’s burning through magical reserves like they’re limitless."

"They might be," Ken said grimly. "Royal bloodline. Enhanced by whatever poison is in her system. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it."

Elara’s hand was still locked around his wrist, grip unconscious but ironclad. Every few seconds her power would pulse, and Ken would flinch as another wave of drain hit him.

But he didn’t pull away.

The knights looked at Ken, waiting for his response. Ken’s eyes were fixed on Elara, who writhed on the bed, her body wracked with tremors, magical energy sparking erratically across her skin. He could see it—the way her consciousness was flickering, dimming like a candle in its final moments before going out completely.

And then it hit him. Like being struck with a stone.

"Oh no," he breathed.

The knights looked at him with confusion, hands still on their weapons, eyes darting between him and the slowly opening door.

Ken’s expression shifted—from exhaustion to sharp realization. "I know what this is."

He moved quickly despite his depleted state, laying Elara back on the bed with careful urgency. Then he turned to face the assembled knights, his voice snapping into command mode.

"All of you—out. Seal this wing completely. No one is allowed to enter. And I mean ’no one’—not ministers, not nobles, not even if the God of Death himself shows up at that door. This place locks down. Now."

The knights exchanged glances, uncertain. Marcus stepped forward. "Sir, with respect, if Her Highness is in danger—"

"She ’is’ in danger. That’s why we’re doing this." Ken turned to Iris specifically, his golden eyes intense. "You. Wear Her Highness’s clothes and act as her for the next few days."

Silence.

Iris stared at him like he’d lost his mind. "What? You know that’s a royal crime, right? Impersonating imperial blood is—"

"It’s of royal order, so we can do it," Ken interrupted.

"No." Iris’s voice was firm, though her ears flattened nervously. "Her Highness is unconscious right now. Out of her mind. She hasn’t said anything, hasn’t given any orders. So how would I—how could this possibly be authorized?"

Ken reached into his pocket—yes, he’d managed to put his pants back on before the crisis escalated—and pulled out a folded document. The imperial seal was clearly visible even in the dim light, pressed in red wax that caught the lamplight.

He held it up. "This is something Her Highness gave me weeks ago. She said that if there was ever a moment when she collapsed, or something catastrophic happened to her, I was to follow the orders written here exactly. I just read it."

He unfolded the paper, revealing Elara’s precise handwriting—that distinctive, efficient script with no wasted flourishes.

’’CONTINGENCY PROTOCOL: MEDICAL INCAPACITATION’’

’’Imperial Authorization: Fourth Princess Elara Blackwood, Acting Regent’’

’’Effective immediately upon my incapacitation or loss of consciousness during crisis:’’

’’1. Dame Iris of the Beast Knight Guard is hereby ordered to assume my physical appearance and act as public stand-in for official functions.’’

’’2. Dame Iris is granted temporary authority to attend meetings, sign non-critical documents, and maintain public presence ONLY. She has NO actual decision-making power.’’

’’3. Administrator Demerti and Deputy Administrator Mira are granted emergency joint authority to make governance decisions in my absence. All major decisions require both signatures.’’