Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 198 --

*Bzzzzzz...*

There. Left wall. The sound was clearer now that the curtains were drawn and the ambient noise reduced. Not just near the wall—*in* the wall. Or attached to something on the wall.

She walked slowly, eyes still closed, following the sound like a hunting cat tracking prey through grass. Four steps. Five. Six.

Stop.

She opened her eyes.

Directly in front of her hung a portrait. Landscape orientation. Pastoral scene—rolling hills, distant mountains, a stream cutting through green fields. Completely generic. The kind of painting you saw in a dozen palace rooms, mass-produced by court artists to fill empty wall space.

This portrait had been here when she’d first claimed this office. She’d never moved it. Never examined it closely. Just... accepted it as part of the room’s existing furniture.

*Bzzzzzz...*

The sound was coming from behind the frame.

Elara raised the vase in her right hand, positioning it like a hammer. With her left, she reached out and carefully lifted the portrait off its hook, tilting it forward to see the back side.

Something moved.

Fast.

A small shape detached from the frame’s backing and *launched* itself toward her face—

Elara swung.

*CRACK.*

The vase connected with the flying object mid-air. The impact jarred her arm, ceramic meeting something harder than insect chitin. The portrait fell from her other hand, frame cracking against the floor. The vase developed a spiderweb fracture across its base but held together.

And the thing—whatever it was—dropped.

It hit the floor with a metallic *tink* and the buzzing sound suddenly became *loud*—no longer muffled by distance or concealment. A high-pitched whine of tiny mechanisms struggling, damaged but not quite destroyed.

Then it stopped.

Complete silence.

Elara stood very still, vase raised, breathing controlled, and looked down at what she’d just killed.

It looked like a cockroach.

At first glance.

About the same size. Six legs. Segmented body. Antennae.

But the proportions were wrong. The legs were too articulated, jointed in ways that didn’t match biological design. The body was too uniform, too smooth, lacking the organic irregularity of living chitin. And the antennae—

Those weren’t antennae.

Those were *sensors*.

Elara crouched slowly, careful not to touch the thing, and examined it more closely.

Definitely not an insect. Not even a magical construct in the traditional sense. This was *technology*. Miniaturized, sophisticated, beautifully engineered. The body casing was some kind of lightweight metal alloy. The legs were articulated wire and ceramic joints. The "head" housed what looked like a small crystal—probably for recording sound, maybe even images.

And those legs... she could see tiny gears inside them. Clockwork mechanisms. This thing didn’t just sit in place recording. It could *move*. Run away if discovered. Reposition itself for better audio. Escape capture.

Someone had spent significant time and money creating this.

And it had been behind that portrait—in *her* office—for months.

Maybe longer.

Recording everything.

Elara’s expression didn’t change. No anger. No fear. Just cold, calculating assessment.

The System rematerialized, floating down to examine the device. "Host... is that what I think it is?"

"Surveillance device," Elara confirmed, voice flat. "Mechanical recording construct. Advanced design. Very expensive."

"How long has it been here?"

"Unknown. Minimum weeks. Possibly since I claimed this office." She straightened, still holding the cracked vase. "Which means whoever placed it has recordings of everything I’ve done, every conversation I’ve had, every document I’ve reviewed."

"That’s..." The System’s voice was small. "That’s really bad, Host."

"Yes."

Elara walked back to her desk, set down the vase, and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. She began writing in her precise, economical hand:

*Surveillance confirmed. Mechanical construct. Location: behind pastoral portrait, east wall. Duration unknown. Assume total information compromise.*

She underlined "total" twice.

"What are you going to do?" the System asked.

"Damage assessment first. Then countermeasures." Elara continued writing. "I need to identify what information was captured. Cross-reference against conversations and activities in this room over the past three months. Determine what strategic vulnerabilities have been exposed."

"And finding who placed it?"

"Secondary priority. The immediate problem is that someone knows—or will soon know—everything I’ve been planning." She set down her pen. "My merchant contracts. My Beast Knight reforms. My investigation into the poison. My conversations with Demerti, with Cullens, with Ken."

Her hand stilled.

"My conversations with you," she said quietly.

The System went very pale. "They know about me?"

"If the device records audio clearly enough, yes. They know I talk to something they can’t see. They know I’m receiving guidance from an external entity." Elara’s voice was clinical. "That’s either dismissed as eccentricity or recognized as evidence of cosmic intervention. Either way, it’s problematic."

She stood again, walked to the fallen portrait, and examined the frame more carefully. There—a tiny depression in the wood backing, perfectly sized for the surveillance construct. And something else. A small maker’s mark, barely visible: three interlocking circles.

Elara pulled out the memory crystal Ken had given her weeks ago—the one containing information about palace artisans and suppliers. She activated it, projecting the information onto her desk surface, and searched for that symbol.

Three interlocking circles. Guild mark. Belonged to...

Elara walked to a side table near the door. On it sat a vase—though calling it a vase was generous. Ceramic, yes. Decorative, nominally. But the thing was *dense*. Heavy. Thick-walled. The opening at the top was barely wide enough for a single flower stem.

Whoever had crafted it had either been an incompetent artisan or had deliberately designed a bludgeoning weapon disguised as décor.

Elara picked it up. Tested its weight. Approximately two kilograms. Center of gravity slightly low. Good for striking.

She closed her eyes again.

*Master Artificer Petran Cove. Workshop: Lower City, Merchant District. Specialty: Miniaturized magical constructs. Notable clients: Imperial Court, Noble Houses, Merchant Guilds.*

Notable clients. Multiple categories. Which meant this could have been commissioned by almost anyone with money and access.

"Dead end," the System observed.

"Not quite. But close." Elara dismissed the crystal projection. "Master Petran creates these for wealthy clients. Finding who commissioned this specific device will require direct interrogation. Which means I need leverage over the artificer."

"Can you get that?"

"Probably. The merchant guild contacts should provide options." She made another note. "But that’s secondary. First priority is determining if there are more devices."

She looked around her office with new eyes. Every piece of furniture. Every decoration. Every fixture that had been here when she’d arrived.

All of it was suspect now.

"I need to sweep this entire room," Elara said. "And my private chambers. And any other space I regularly use. If there’s one device, there are probably more."

"How do you detect them?"

"The buzzing. They emit a very faint sound when actively recording." Elara walked to her desk and started pulling out drawers, checking behind and underneath them. "Most people wouldn’t notice—background noise filters it out. But in complete silence, with focused listening, it’s detectable."

She moved through the room systematically. Checking behind wall hangings. Under furniture. Inside decorative vases that weren’t secretly weapons. The System helped, floating into small spaces and corners she couldn’t easily reach.

Twenty minutes later, they’d found two more.

One in the base of her reading lamp. Another inside a decorative box on her bookshelf.

Three total.