Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 65 --

Three months was not a short span—but neither was it much time. Certainly not enough to build a venture from nothing, without any foundation already in place.

In business, five things mattered most. Place. Resources. Money. And two others that usually came later—labor and machinery. But the first hurdles were always land, capital, and tools.

Elara had no time to purchase land, begin excavation, and wait months for uncertain discoveries. Mining, prospecting—those paths demanded patience she did not possess. Time, in this case, was a luxury she could not afford.

Nor did she have money to gamble on expensive machines that might or might not work. Worse, she lacked deep technical knowledge in those fields. Pouring funds into something she could not personally oversee or fully understand was not strategy—it was recklessness.

So Elara chose differently.

She would work with what she already had.

And what she had now was clean, abundant fresh water.

With that alone, she could still build something worthwhile.

Elara did not plan to gamble on a single path. One venture could fail; many, built together, could support each other. So she chose scale over caution—and variety over dependence.

The first product was simple.

Drinks.

Not fresh juice. Not wine. Not alcohol.

Soft drinks.

This world had knowledge, written systems, even advanced craftsmanship. Yet when it came to beverages, the choices were strangely narrow. Juice was something squeezed and consumed the same day. Alcohol dominated everything else—wine, champagne, spirits. Nearly ninety percent of all drinks carried alcohol.

Children were given juice. Adults were given alcohol.

There was no space in between. No concept of a non-alcoholic drink that could last, be stored, and enjoyed casually.

And Elara understood something else just as clearly: introducing a new product by pushing it toward nobles first was foolish. Nobles did not buy unfamiliar things easily.

But they were watched.

The common people followed trends the way water followed gravity. In this world, nobles were not just rulers—they were living symbols, admired and copied. If nobles were seen holding something, the people would want it too.

So Elara aimed lower—and wider.

Her drinks would not compete with champagne or rare wine. They would be priced for those who could never afford such things, yet still wanted something special. Something refreshing. Something that did not rot within hours.

A drink that could sit for days in a cooler, ready to be opened, consumed, and discarded without ceremony.

Convenience itself would be the luxury.

As for packaging, there was one limitation. Plastic barely existed in this world.

So Elara adapted.

Glass—for clarity, for prestige, for reuse.

Steel—for durability, for transport, for the masses.

Heavy, yes. But reliable.

And reliability, Elara knew, sold better than novelty ever could.

The previous princess may not have been loved, but she had been capable.

That much, Elara could not deny.

She understood work—real work. Her magic was refined, practical, and applied with purpose rather than display. Over the years, she had developed resources, systems, and foundations that still lingered beneath the dust and neglect. Because of that, creating carbonated drinks in this territory was far less difficult than it should have been.

And Elara herself was no stranger to beverages.

In another life, she had been obsessed with them—testing flavors, memorizing formulas, refining textures. She remembered most recipes instinctively, as if they had been etched into her bones. More than that, she had once overseen companies that produced drinks on a large scale. As their leader, she had never delegated blindly. She checked processes, tested batches, corrected errors. She knew how a drink should taste—and how it should be made.

That knowledge mattered.

She handed the administrators clear instructions: the brewing process, carbonation methods, storage rules, quality checks. Nothing was left vague.

As for machinery, she did not waste time worrying over it. The designs were sent to the beast knights, who coordinated directly with the merchant guild. Skilled craftsmen arrived to assemble and calibrate everything under supervision.

It was already accounted for.

Written cleanly into the contracts. Paid, agreed, and binding.

By the time the first pipes were fitted and the vats sealed, Elara had already moved on to the next step.

Preparation was never the problem.

Execution was.

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ONE MONTH LATER

The former stable wing no longer smelled of hay.

Pipes gleamed under torchlight. Vats hummed softly, carbonation whispering beneath sealed lids.

Crates of glass bottles lined the walls, steel canisters stacked for transport. Beyond the doors, the river dock buzzed with movement as boats waited to be loaded.

Elara stood at the center of it all.

No wasted motion. No excess.

Land secured.

Funds stabilized.

Water endless.

Labor loyal.

Tools crafted with beast-knight precision.

Dimitri approached, ledger tucked beneath his arm. "Your Highness. First batch is complete. Flavor profiles match the specifications."

Elara accepted a ladle, dipped it once, and tasted.

Lemon—sharp, clean. Berry—bright, balanced. Fizz—light, persistent. No burn. No bitterness.

"Exact," she said. "Label and ship."

Mira moved immediately, ink already flowing.

Elara Fizz.

Eternal Fresh.

For All.

This was not meant to challenge noble cellars.

It was meant to fill common hands.

Glass bottles for display and refinement. Steel for endurance and reach.

"Carbonation stability?" Elara asked, checking the valve.

"Preservation magic is holding," the craftsman replied. "Seals are clean."

She nodded once.

Beast knights stood watch—silent, unmoving—overseeing smiths and merchants alike. No mistakes were tolerated. None occurred.

Elara’s gaze shifted to the beast knights standing nearby.

They looked nothing like knights now.

Their armor had been replaced with tailored clothes—clean lines, fitted cuts, colors chosen to flatter rather than intimidate. Instead of weapons, they carried crates and satchels. Instead of soldiers, they looked like wandering nobles... or models straight out of a merchant’s dream.

She glanced at the crates of bottled drinks stacked beside them, then back at their faces.

A slow smile curved her lips.

"You all know what to do," she said lightly.

The beast knights met her eyes. No confusion. No hesitation.

They nodded.

That was Elara’s plan.

She had no intention of selling the drink properly—not yet.

First, she would make people crave it.

Hype was not created by shouting. It was created by absence, curiosity, and envy.

She turned to the ten beast men assigned to the first phase—those headed for ordinary shops. Then her gaze moved to the fifteen adults waiting nearby, already briefed.

"You remember your roles," she said.

"Yes, Your Highness," they answered in unison.

That was enough.

The operation began quietly.

At the first shop, one of the beast knights stepped inside with an easy smile and a single crate. He explained the drink simply. No exaggeration. No pressure.

The shopkeeper rejected it immediately.

An unknown beverage. No reputation. No demand.

As expected.

The knight only smiled. "That’s fine. Try it. If you don’t like it, don’t buy it." He left behind five bottles and a small card. "I’ll come again tomorrow. If you want more, just tell me then."

He left without waiting for an answer.

The shopkeeper stared after him—more at the knight’s face than the drink—and finally shrugged. Free was free.

The same thing happened at thirty shops that day.

No sales.

Only samples.

And then—exactly as Elara predicted—it began.