Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 186 --

Elara had been working for exactly two hours and thirteen minutes when the knock came—not at her chamber door, but at the entrance to the small administrative office she’d claimed three weeks ago.

"Enter," she called without looking up from the supply requisition she was annotating. The numbers didn’t match the actual delivery logs, which meant someone was either incompetent or embezzling. She’d determine which.

The door opened. Demerti’s voice, familiar and efficient: "Your Highness, Lord Castor and Lady Revine have arrived for the scheduled meeting regarding the eastern trade routes."

Elara glanced at the timepiece on her desk. "They’re four minutes early."

"Lord Castor’s habit, Your Highness. Shall I have them wait?"

"No. Show them in. I’m nearly finished here." She made two final marks on the document, set it aside in the "investigate further" pile, and straightened in her chair.

Demerti stepped aside, and two nobles entered—Lord Castor, a portly man in his fifties with elaborate silver embroidery on his coat, and Lady Revine, younger, sharper-eyed, dressed in deep green silks that probably cost more than most families earned in a year.

Both bowed. Castor’s bow was deep and respectful. Revine’s was technically correct but carried the barest hint of condescension—old nobility looking at a "minor" princess who’d suddenly started interfering in trade policy.

"Your Highness," Castor said warmly. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. The eastern merchants have been quite concerned about the new inspection requirements—"

"The inspection requirements are non-negotiable," Elara cut in smoothly. "Three poisoning attempts on palace officials in the past four months. Two successful. Security takes precedence over convenience."

Castor’s smile wavered. "Of course, Your Highness, no one would argue with security measures. However, the delays are costing—"

"Approximately six thousand gold marks per week in delayed shipments," Elara said. "I’ve reviewed the numbers. However, the cost of successfully poisoned officials is significantly higher when you factor in replacement training, information loss, and political destabilization." She tilted her head slightly. "Unless you’re suggesting merchant profits outweigh human lives?"

"No! No, of course not, Your Highness." Castor was flustered now, hands fluttering. "I only meant—perhaps there are ways to streamline the process while maintaining security?"

"I’m open to proposals," Elara said. "Present them."

Lady Revine spoke for the first time, voice cool and measured. "If Your Highness would consider exempting certain... established merchant houses from the full inspection process. Families with generations of loyal service, verified histories. They could receive expedited clearance, freeing resources to focus on unknown traders."

"Creating a two-tier system," Elara said. "Privileged houses with minimal oversight, everyone else subjected to full scrutiny."

"Precisely, Your Highness." Revine’s smile was polished. "Efficient allocation of limited resources."

"And when one of those ’trusted’ houses is bribed or infiltrated, who takes responsibility for the breach?" Elara asked. "You? Lord Castor? Or will it be the dead official who trusted your family name?"

Revine’s smile tightened. "Your Highness is suggesting noble houses cannot be trusted?"

"I’m suggesting trust is not a security protocol," Elara replied. "Everyone gets inspected. Equally. The process can be streamlined through additional inspectors, better scheduling, and improved logistics. But there will be no exemptions based on bloodline or political connections."

Demerti, standing quietly by the door, made a small notation in his ledger. He was tracking something—probably which nobles would complain to the Emperor about this meeting.

Castor tried again, voice placating. "Your Highness, surely you understand that some flexibility—"

"I understand that the Third empress’s favorite merchant house requested this meeting," Elara said flatly. "That Lady Revine’s family stands to lose significant profit if inspections continue at current rates. And that you’re both here to pressure me into creating loopholes your faction can exploit." [1]

The room went very quiet.

Revine’s face went pale, then flushed. "Your Highness, I would never—"

"You just did," Elara said. "The answer is no. Security protocols remain unchanged. If you wish to improve efficiency, submit detailed proposals to Administrator Demerti outlining specific logistical improvements. He’ll review them with the security council. Anything that maintains safety while reducing delays will be considered."

She picked up the next file on her desk, the gesture a clear dismissal. "That’s all."

Castor bowed quickly, mumbling something about "of course, Your Highness," and backed toward the door. Revine hesitated a moment longer, eyes cold, then bowed stiffly and followed.

The door closed behind them.

Elara waited five full seconds, then set down the file she hadn’t actually been reading. "Assessment?"

Demerti moved from his position by the door to the chair across from her desk—a privilege he’d earned through months of competent work. "Lady Revine will report this conversation to the Third empress within the hour. Lord Castor will likely do the same, though he’ll frame it as ’the Fourth Princess was surprisingly firm’ rather than ’we failed completely.’" He consulted his notes. "The Third empress will interpret this as you blocking her economic interests. Escalation probable."

"Expected," Elara said. She rubbed her temple briefly—the headache was back, faint but persistent. "How many more meetings today?"

"Two, Your Highness. But—" Demerti’s gaze sharpened. "Your Highness should rest. You’ve been working for over two hours, and you’re showing signs of fatigue."

"I have forty-seven minutes remaining in my allocated work window," Elara said.

"Which you will spend productively by eating lunch and reviewing documents here, not entertaining more nobles who want to waste your time." His tone was still respectful, but firm. "The next meeting can be rescheduled. The one after that is a formality—I can handle it myself."

Elara started to argue, then stopped. Because Demerti had been managing her schedule since the poisoning, had seen her collapse twice, and had probably slept less than she had while coordinating security overhauls and poison investigations.

He knew exactly how much capacity she had left today. And he was right.

"Reschedule the next meeting," she conceded. "But I’ll attend the formality. If you handle it alone, they’ll assume I’m still incapacitated."

"Your Highness—"

"Thirty minutes," Elara said. "Purely ceremonial. I sit, smile minimally, sign whatever document requires royal approval, and leave. You do all the actual talking."

Demerti was quiet for a moment, then inclined his head. "Acceptable. But lunch first. Master Cullens was quite specific about regular meals."

"Cullens is always specific about something," Elara muttered, but she didn’t argue further.

Demerti moved to the side table where a covered tray had been waiting—he’d anticipated this, then. Had probably coordinated with Mira to have food ready the moment Elara’s work block ended.

Efficient. She approved.

He set the tray in front of her: light soup, bread, sliced fruit. Easy to digest, nutritionally balanced. "Your Highness should eat while reviewing those documents," he said. "Multitasking. Efficient."

The System mouse materialized on the edge of her desk, grinning. "He’s managing you like you manage everyone else. Using your own logic against you."

Elara picked up the spoon. "I noticed."

"And you’re allowing it," the System said. "Character growth. I’m so proud."

She ignored it and took a sip of soup. Warm. Well-seasoned. Her body responded with that same greedy relief—it had needed this and hadn’t bothered to inform her.

Demerti returned to his seat and opened his own ledger. "While Your Highness eats, shall I brief you on the surveillance reports?"

"Go ahead."