Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 49 --

That suggested either carelessness or time pressure. Maybe both.

Which meant they might try again.

So Elara made it easy for them.

She announced—loudly, in front of several servants—that she’d be attending a meeting with Dimitri and Mira in the administrative wing that evening. Two hours minimum, going over final financial arrangements before departure. The kind of boring meeting that would keep her out of her chambers for a predictable amount of time.

Then she arranged her room very carefully.

She left one trunk—the clothing trunk—with the lock "accidentally" left open. Just a crack. Like she’d been packing in a hurry and forgotten to secure it properly. Inside, she placed a new traveling cloak. Expensive fabric, good stitching. The kind of thing that would be tempting to sabotage.

But she did something else first.

She took a thin silk thread—nearly invisible—and tied it across the inside of the trunk lid at a specific height. Then she dusted the thread with a fine powder made from crushed chalk and preservation magic residue. If anyone opened the trunk, the thread would break and the powder would fall, leaving traces on whoever touched it.

She did the same with the other trunks, using different colored powders for each. Red for documents, blue for preservation materials, white for clothing.

Then she left for her "meeting"—but only went as far as the next corridor.

The fox knight looked at her questioningly as she stopped.

"We’re waiting," she said quietly.

"Your Highness?"

"Just trust me. Stay here. Stay silent."

They pressed into a shadowed alcove where they could see her chamber door but wouldn’t be easily spotted. And they waited.

Twenty minutes passed. Elara’s legs started to ache from standing still.

Then movement.

A figure approached her door. A young woman in servant’s clothing—one of the palace staff, not one of Elara’s personal hires. She glanced around nervously, then produced a key and unlocked the door.

Not breaking in. She had a key. Which meant someone with authority had given it to her.

The servant slipped inside. The door closed softly behind her.

Elara waited. Counted slowly to one hundred in her head. Giving the woman time to open the trunks, trigger the traps, leave evidence.

Then she walked back to her own door, the fox knight behind her, and opened it.

The servant spun around, eyes wide with panic. Her hands were inside the clothing trunk—the one with the white powder trap. And all over her fingers, her sleeves, even a smudge on her cheek, was white powder glowing faintly in the lamplight.

Caught absolutely red-handed. Or white-handed, technically.

"Oh," Elara said calmly. "Hello."

The servant’s face went pale. She opened her mouth. Closed it. No words came out.

"Close the trunk," Elara said. "Step away from it. Slowly."

The woman did, hands shaking. The white powder left marks on everything she touched.

Elara walked to her desk and sat down, positioning herself between the servant and the door. The fox knight moved to block the exit entirely, hand resting on his sword hilt.

"What’s your name?" Elara asked.

"I—I didn’t—" The servant’s voice cracked.

"Your name," Elara repeated. "Not an accusation. Just a question."

"Mira," the woman whispered. Then quickly: "Not the same Mira, different one, I’m just—I work in the laundry, Your Highness, please—"

"What were you doing in my trunk?"

"I wasn’t—I was just—" Tears started running down her face, smearing the powder. "Please don’t hurt me."

Elara leaned back in her chair. "I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know who sent you."

"No one! I was just—"

"You have a key to my private chambers. Someone gave you that key. Someone told you when I’d be gone. Someone told you what to do to my belongings." Elara kept her voice level. "You’re not the person I’m angry at. You’re just the person they sent. So tell me: who sent you?"

The servant was crying openly now, white powder mixing with tears. "I can’t—they’ll kill me—"

"They’ll kill you if you *don’t* talk," Elara corrected. "Because right now, you’re the only person who knows their identity. That makes you a liability. The moment you leave this room, you become a problem they need to eliminate."

The woman’s eyes went even wider. She clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead.

"But if you tell me," Elara continued, "then you stop being useful to them. And you become useful to me instead. Which one do you think is safer?"

Silence. The servant’s breathing was ragged with panic.

"I don’t know their name," she finally gasped. "I swear, I don’t know. They wore a hood. Spoke quietly. Gave me the key and instructions and money—so much money—and said to just... to just put things in your trunks when you weren’t here. Poison powder. A bad magic anchor thing. Tear some clothes. That’s all."

"When did they approach you?"

"Four days ago. Right after the assassination attempt. They said—they said you were leaving and it was important you didn’t make it to Port Crestfall in one piece."

"Did they say why?"

"No. Just that you were a problem and needed to be dealt with quietly."

Elara studied the woman. She was young—maybe twenty. Terrified. Clearly not a professional. Just someone who’d taken money to do something that seemed simple and was now realizing how badly she’d miscalculated.

"Man or woman?" Elara asked.

"I... I couldn’t tell. The voice was muffled. Average height. Dark cloak. Gloves. Nothing distinctive."

Of course not. Whoever was behind this wouldn’t reveal themselves to a disposable pawn.

"Show me what you were supposed to put in the trunks tonight."

The servant pulled a small cloth bag from inside her dress. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it. Inside: more poison powder, a vial of something oily, and a small knife with a wickedly sharp edge.

"What were your instructions?" Elara asked.

"Poison powder in the clothes. Oil on the preservation materials—they said it would corrode them. And cut the straps on one of the trunks so it would break during transport."

More sabotage. More attempts to humiliate, weaken, and potentially kill her through a hundred small cuts.

Elara took the bag, set it on her desk. "You’re going to leave now. You’re going to tell no one about this conversation. If your mysterious employer asks, you’ll say you completed the job successfully. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded frantically. "Yes, Your Highness, yes, thank you—"

"I’m not done." Elara’s voice hardened. "You’re going to report to Dimitri tomorrow morning. You’re going to tell him you want to transfer to my household staff. He’ll ask why. You’ll say you want better pay and you’ve heard I treat my people well. He’ll hire you."

The servant’s eyes went huge. "What?"

"You’re coming to Port Crestfall with me. Where I can keep an eye on you. Where whoever hired you can’t reach you to tie up loose ends." Elara stood. "You have two choices: stay here and probably end up dead in a week when they realize you’re a liability, or come with me and work off your debt by being useful."

"I—I don’t—"

"Choose. Now."

"I’ll come," the woman gasped. "I’ll come with you, I’ll work, I won’t cause trouble, I promise—"

"Good." Elara nodded to the fox knight. "Escort her out. Make sure she’s not followed. And have someone watch her until we leave."