Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 66 --

Not even ten minutes after the first knight left a shop, another beast man entered.

"Do you have that drink?" he asked casually.

The shopkeeper blinked. "Ah—yes. One silver tale."

"Fine."

The bottle was opened and emptied in one go.

"Gods," the man muttered. "That’s good."

He left.

Then another entered.

"Do you have the drink?"

Then another.

And another.

Each time, the shopkeeper sold a bottle. Each time, the reaction was the same—surprise, delight, regret at not buying more.

By evening, the five free samples were gone.

And people were asking.

Every shop experienced the same pattern. One by one. One request at a time. No crowds. No noise. Just a steady, undeniable pull.

By the next morning, the delivery teams returned to the mansion with empty crates—and order slips thick enough to make Dimitri pause.

More orders than stock.

Elara read the reports and set them aside, her expression calm.

The drink had not been sold.

It had been desired.

And that was far more valuable.

It didn’t take long for the drinks to become a sensation. Word spread faster than Elara had anticipated—helped along by curiosity, imitation, and the simple fact that people liked what tasted good. The soft drinks were refreshing, convenient, and different. That alone was enough to make them popular.

But popularity was not Elara’s goal.

Control was.

A single successful product could be replaced. A trend could fade. If she wanted this market to belong to her, she needed more than one hit—she needed an ecosystem.

The drinks were only the entry point.

Elara sat back and thought it through. Once again, this world revealed its gaps. It mirrored her own in many ways, yet overlooked things so basic that it almost felt absurd.

They didn’t know popcorn.

They had never heard of it. No roasted kernels bursting into soft, salty clouds. No cheap, addictive snack eaten by the handful. No smell drifting through streets to pull people in without effort.

And it wasn’t just popcorn.

No burgers layered with sauce and meat. No pizza sliced and shared. No concept of "junk food" the way she knew it—food designed not for sustenance or ceremony, but for craving.

In this world, food was either practical... or indulgent and expensive.

There was nothing in between.

Elara smiled faintly.

Getting people addicted to simple pleasures was the easiest thing in existence.

Cheap ingredients. Fast preparation. Enormous margins. Repeat customers who didn’t even realize they were being trained.

And once people began pairing her snacks with her drinks?

....

The idea came to Elara suddenly—and once it did, it refused to leave her mind.

That same evening, she summoned all the administrators.

They gathered in the meeting room, exchanging puzzled glances as Elara took her seat at the head of the table. Before she could speak, one of them cleared his throat.

"Your Highness," he said carefully, "the drink business is thriving. The people love it. If my assessment is correct, demand will not fall anytime soon."

Elara nodded, fingers resting lightly against the table.

"Yes," she said. "It’s doing well."

Then she lifted her gaze.

"But do you truly think that is enough?"

The room fell silent. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

The administrators looked at one another, unsure how to respond. Elara let the pause stretch before continuing.

"I’m thinking of opening a supermarket."

Blank stares met her words.

"A... market?" someone asked hesitantly. "We already have markets."

"Not a market," Elara corrected calmly. "A supermarket."

Seeing their confusion, she explained.

"One large establishment. Clean. Organized. A single place where people can buy everything they need—food, drinks, daily goods—without running from street to street."

Understanding dawned slowly... and then doubt followed.

"But, Your Highness," another administrator said, frowning, "there are already countless shops. What advantage would this bring? Would it not anger merchants? Cause conflict?"

Elara leaned back, unbothered.

"That depends," she said, "on how it’s done."

She let her words settle before delivering the real proposal.

"What if we don’t replace the sellers," she continued, "but gather them?"

The room stirred.

"Pair with the small merchants. Street vendors. Independent sellers. They keep ownership of their goods—but sell through our establishment."

Murmurs broke out immediately.

"That would still anger people." "Many already complain about the drinks harming their sales." "If this opens, protests are inevitable."

They weren’t wrong.

Ever since Elara’s soft drinks had spread through the city, certain sellers had already begun grumbling. Losses had followed. Jealousy too. A supermarket would only amplify those fears. Why buy from the roadside when everything could be found in one place, at the same price—or better?

The administrators looked back at her, concern written plainly on their faces.

Elara had expected this.

"So," she said simply, "we sell the same way."

Silence.

"We buy directly from them—or we sign contracts," she continued. "Their goods are sold in our store under their names. Stable demand. No wasted stock. No fighting for customers. They gain consistency instead of chaos."

Still, doubt lingered.

"But why," one administrator asked slowly, "would customers choose this... supermarket?"

Elara smiled faintly.

"Because people don’t chase loyalty," she said. "They chase convenience."

She leaned forward, eyes sharp.

"One place. Fixed prices. Clean shelves. Weather-proof shopping. No haggling. No uncertainty. When people taste comfort once, they stop wanting anything else."

The room grew quiet.

A moment of silence followed—until one of the administrators spoke, hesitant but curious.

"Your Highness... will this place only have shops?"

Elara smiled.

She had been waiting for that question.

"No," she replied calmly. "It will also have food courts."

The room stirred.

"And the food," she added, almost casually, "will be sold by us."

Confusion spread instantly. Several administrators exchanged looks, clearly wondering the same thing—why food, and what benefit it could possibly bring.

Elara did not explain.

Instead, she snapped her fingers.

The doors opened.

Lisa entered first, composed as always, followed by two beastmen pushing three covered trolleys. They bowed in unison before rolling the carts into the center of the room. With a practiced motion, the cloths were lifted.

Warm air rushed out.

The scent hit them before their eyes could fully register what they were seeing—rich, savory, unfamiliar. Melted cheese. Toasted bread. Oil and spice. Something salty and addictive.

On the trays sat things none of them had ever seen before.

Round, layered buns stuffed with meat and sauce. Flat bread covered in cheese and toppings, sliced neatly. Thin golden sticks piled high. Soft white clusters that smelled impossibly good.

"...What are these?" someone whispered.

Elara watched their expressions with quiet satisfaction.

"Food," she said simply.

Then, gesturing toward the spread, she added,

"Try it."

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Administrators who could negotiate contracts, manage territory, and face nobles without flinching now stared at the table like it was a trap. Unknown food was dangerous. Unfamiliar things always were.

Elara noticed—and chuckled softly.

"Well?" she asked. "I’m not poisoning you."

That broke the tension.

One administrator cleared his throat and reached for a small piece of the flat, cheese-covered bread. He lifted it cautiously, examined it from all angles, then took a careful bite.

The reaction was immediate.

His eyes widened. His jaw froze mid-chew. Then—very slowly—his shoulders relaxed.

"...What is this?"

"Pizza," Elara replied.

Before he could finish swallowing, another administrator grabbed one of the thin golden sticks. A crunch echoed through the room.