Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 193 --

She could become the Fourth Princess who lost control and killed herself—and anyone standing too close—through sheer magical incompetence.

Cullens leaned forward, his expression pained. "Your Highness, please. You must consider what I suggested before. It’s the only reliable way to discharge that much excess magic safely."

Elara’s clouded mind struggled to remember. What had he suggested? Something about—

Oh.

*Oh.*

Her eyes focused on him more sharply. "You mean..."

"Yes, Your Highness." Cullens’ face was carefully neutral, professional, but she could see the discomfort beneath. "The poison was designed to cause uncontrolled arousal specifically *because* that kind of... physical release... naturally discharges large amounts of magic. It’s the body’s emergency valve. For mages with normal control, it’s simply uncomfortable. But for someone with Your Highness’s power levels, poisoned and destabilized..." He paused. "It’s not just about the lust, Your Highness. It’s about survival. If you complete the cycle the poison is trying to force—if you allow the physical release it’s designed to trigger—your magic will discharge naturally. Safely. Without destroying everything around you."

The System mouse made a strangled sound. "He’s saying you need to have sex or you’ll literally explode."

"I gathered that," Elara thought back acidly.

Cullens continued, voice low. "I understand this is... deeply inappropriate. Invasive. Not something Your Highness should ever be forced to consider. But the alternative is death, Your Highness. Sudden, violent death. And possibly taking others with you when your magic detonates." He met her eyes. "The beast knights can ground your overflow temporarily, as they did today. But that’s not a solution—that’s life support. It drains them dangerously, and it doesn’t address the root cause. The poison needs to complete its cycle. If you fight it, if you try to suppress it, the pressure just builds until something catastrophic happens."

Silence filled the destroyed office.

Elara stared at the cracked ceiling, at the shattered windows, at the evidence of what her uncontrolled magic had done. Ken and the others had barely stopped her from killing herself. Next time, they might not be fast enough.

"So my options," she said slowly, "are to find someone to... satisfy the poison’s effects during episodes. Or die."

"In the bluntest terms, yes, Your Highness." Cullens looked miserable. "I’ve sent urgent requests to every alchemist, healer, and magical scholar I can contact. Perhaps someone will find another solution. But until then..." He trailed off.

The System mouse floated closer. "Host, he’s not wrong about the magical mechanics. I can see your readings. The pressure is still dangerous even now, after the discharge. It’s like... like a boiler with too much steam. You need to vent it properly, or it’s going to explode."

"And having sex vents it," Elara said flatly.

"The physical release triggers a magical cascade that naturally discharges excess power," the System confirmed. "It’s actually a well-documented phenomenon in magical theory. Usually irrelevant because mages don’t carry this much uncontrolled power. But in your case..." It gestured helplessly with tiny paws. "You’re a walking magical bomb, Host. And the poison specifically engineered the fuse."

Elara closed her eyes. Her head throbbed. Her body ached. And somewhere in the palace, nobles were plotting, consorts were scheming, and an empire was pretending its Emperor wasn’t in a coma.

And now she had to add "find a sexual partner or explode" to her list of problems.

"The beast knights," she said, eyes still closed. "They can absorb the magic through the collar bonds."

"They can stabilize you during a crisis," Cullens corrected gently. "But Your Highness... they’re already being drained to dangerous levels. And that method only addresses the symptom, not the cause. The pressure will keep building. The episodes will keep getting worse." He hesitated. "And... Your Highness should know. If you continue to rely solely on the knights to ground your discharge, eventually it will kill them. Their cores are strong, but not infinite. Today nearly destroyed Sir Ken. Next time might succeed."

Elara’s eyes snapped open. "Unacceptable."

"Then Your Highness must consider alternatives."

"Alternatives like allowing myself to be... used... while mindless with poison-induced lust." Her voice was flat, clinical. "Losing all control and dignity while someone—" She stopped. "Who would you even suggest? A stranger? A servant? One of the knights themselves?"

Cullens looked pained. "That is not my place to suggest, Your Highness. But... it would need to be someone trustworthy. Someone who wouldn’t take advantage. Someone strong enough to withstand proximity to your magic during an episode." He paused meaningfully. "The beast knights are already bonded to you through the collars. They’re loyal. They’re strong. And they’re... equipped to handle the magical overflow."

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

"You’re suggesting I use my own guards," Elara said.

"I’m suggesting Your Highness consider all options for survival," Cullens said carefully. "Before the next episode kills you. Or them. Or everyone in this wing of the palace." [1]

The System mouse was very quiet.

Elara stared at the ceiling for a long moment, processing through the fog in her mind.

Her choices: Die. Let the beast knights die trying to save her repeatedly. Or surrender to the poison’s design and find a way to... complete the cycle.

All bad options.

But some were worse than others.

"How long do I have?" she asked finally. "Before the next episode?"

"I don’t know, Your Highness," Cullens admitted. "Hours. Days. I truly don’t know."

"Then you’d better figure it out," Elara said quietly. "Because I’m not making that decision until I have more information. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed, gathered his materials. "I’ll continue researching. And I’ll have the knights prepare emergency protocols in case—"

"Go."

He went.

The door closed.

Elara lay in the ruins of her office, staring at nothing, while the countdown to her next potential explosion ticked invisibly onward.

And outside the door, three beast knights stood watch—loyal, devoted, and utterly unaware that their princess was being forced to choose between her dignity and their lives.

The System mouse waited until Cullens’ footsteps faded down the corridor before speaking.

"Host," it said quietly. "We need to talk about this."

Elara didn’t open her eyes. She was still lying on the floor where she’d collapsed, too drained to move to the sofa or bed. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been pulled apart and reassembled incorrectly.

"There’s nothing to talk about," she said. "The options are clear. The outcomes are predictable. I just need more data before making a decision."

"No." The System’s voice was firmer than she’d heard before. "You need to stop treating this like a logistics problem."

"It *is* a logistics problem. Resource allocation. Risk management. Optimal outcome calculation given constrained parameters."

"It’s your *body*, Host. Your autonomy. Your—" The mouse made a frustrated sound. "This isn’t about efficiency. This is about you being forced into an impossible situation by a weapon someone used against you."

Elara finally opened her eyes. The mouse was hovering directly above her, small face creased with genuine concern.

"I’m aware of what it is," Elara said flatly. "Someone poisoned me with a substance designed to force sexual arousal and magical discharge. The poison is winning. My body is betraying me. These are facts." She paused. "Getting emotional about facts doesn’t change them."