Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 254 --

"The collars in their current configuration contain an extraction function. It was added twelve years ago by amendment. It was not disclosed to any knight at the time of induction or at any point afterward." She paused. "What the function does: it creates a passive record of proximity contacts — who you were near, for how long, what was said within a certain range. That record has been accessible remotely by an authorized party." Another pause. "For twelve years, that authorized party was the Empress Dowager’s administrative office."

The room did not react.

She had expected this. She had still prepared for it and was still, despite that preparation, affected by it — the absolute absence of visible response from one hundred and twenty people receiving information that should have cracked something open. Not a shifted weight. Not a sound. Not a single face changing in any detectable way.

Just the stillness. Continuing.

’That’s the reaction,’ she thought. ’The stillness IS the reaction.’

She kept going.

"Every conversation within range of your collar in the last twelve years was potentially accessible," she said. "Every operational conversation. Every conversation between knights. Every word said in corridors, in this hall, in rest quarters, at post." She paused. "You did not consent to this. You were never told it was possible. The amendment that created it bypassed every oversight mechanism that existed to prevent exactly this kind of access."

Silence.

Then — small. A single thing. In the fourth row, a knight she knew from the east corridor rotation — twelve years of service, one of the longest-tenured in the palace — blinked. Once. And held it, very slightly, a half-second longer than a blink needed to be.

That was it.

Elara filed it and continued.

"The formal proceedings began this morning," she said. "The amendment authorization is part of the evidentiary record. The Empress Dowager’s administrative office is directly implicated." She opened the document bundle. "The collar extraction function is suspended as of today. The suspension order is already filed with the council secretary’s office. A full collar replacement program will be ready for review within three weeks — designed to the original Charter specifications, no extraction capability, full transparency on every function. Every collar currently in service will be replaced."

She distributed the summary document pages down the rows.

The pages moved through the room with mechanical efficiency — passed hand to hand without looking down, without reading, stored. They’d read later. Or they wouldn’t. That wasn’t the point of handing them over.

The point was: ’here is the physical evidence that this is real and not a statement.’

"I also intend a full audit of the extraction records," Elara said. "What was collected over twelve years. What was accessed. I want it documented — and then destroyed, with documentation of the destruction." She paused. "That process takes time. It is the next priority after the formal proceedings conclude."

Silence.

She waited.

In the third row: a jaw. Very slightly. The muscle along the back of it, near the ear, doing something controlled and careful for approximately two seconds before releasing.

In the seventh row: hands that had been resting open on knees, now resting closed. The change was so small she almost didn’t catch it.

In the front row, directly in her sightline: nothing. The knight there — Sera, senior rotation, someone Elara had noticed for her economy of movement — was watching Elara with an expression of absolute professional neutrality that had been, Elara now understood, twelve years in the making.

"Questions," Elara said.

Silence.

Five seconds.

Ten.

She didn’t fill it. She waited.

Then, from somewhere in the middle rows — flat, precise, no inflection: "Who had access to the records."

"The Empress Dowager’s personal secretary held the primary access credentials," Elara said. "Whether others in the administrative office accessed the records is part of the audit."

Silence.

Another beat.

"For how long." Different voice. Same register. The complete absence of emotional coloring that somehow communicated the opposite of absence.

"Twelve years from the amendment date," Elara said. "The function was active from installation."

’From the moment they put the collars on,’ she didn’t say. They already knew that. They were calculating it right now, internally, without moving their faces — twelve years against their own years of service, overlapping the math with every conversation they’d had at range.

She could see none of it.

That was the point.

"The audit," said a voice from the back — older, she thought. Senior. "The destruction of records. How do we know it’s done."

"I will provide documentation of both the audit findings and the destruction," Elara said. "The process will be overseen by the independent archive body, not my administrative office. The results will be provided directly to senior knight staff as well as the council." She paused. "If there is a knight representative you want present for the destruction itself — physically present — I will arrange it."

A pause.

Something in the room shifted. Not visibly. Not in any face or posture. But something in the quality of the stillness changed — a degree, a fraction — the way temperature changes before you can name the number.

"Yes," said the voice from the back. "There should be someone present."

"Tell me who," Elara said. "After this meeting."

The voice said nothing further.

She looked at the room.

One hundred and twenty people. Thirty, forty, some of them sixty years of service between them. The program that had taken them, the training that had built them, the collars that had — she now understood — surveilled the entirety of whatever private existence they’d managed to construct within those walls. Every sentence exchanged with another knight in the quarter-hour before a shift. Every word said in this room, possibly, during whatever passed for collective gathering.

She was going to say ’I’m sorry’ and then she stopped herself — not because she didn’t mean it, but because she was learning, slowly, the shape of what this room could receive. An apology was a personal emotional transaction. It put the receiver in the position of needing to respond to her feelings about what had happened rather than simply having their own.

What she said instead:

"This should not have been built into the framework," she said. "I intend to make sure it cannot be rebuilt." She paused. "That’s all I can give you that’s concrete right now. Everything else is still in process."

She held the silence for three more seconds.

"Cullens is going to begin the suspension calibration," she said. "One at a time. It takes approximately six minutes per collar. We start now."

’’’

Cullens worked.

The process was quiet and technical — the calibration device, the minute adjustment, the collar’s pulse shifting almost imperceptibly and then resettling. Six minutes. Next. Six minutes. Next.

The knights who weren’t being calibrated waited in their rows.

They didn’t talk.

Elara hadn’t expected them to. She stood to the side and watched and the System drifted down from the ceiling at some point and settled just above her shoulder, silent. Watching with her.

After the first twenty, she began to notice the small things.

The knight from the fourth row — the one who’d blinked — came back from Cullens’ station and sat down. Put his hands on his knees. Looked straight ahead. After a moment he turned his head, very slightly, and looked at the knight sitting next to him. The other knight didn’t look back. But the angle of his head shifted, one degree, in acknowledgment.