Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 85 --

"That was option one. Where you cooperate and I’m merciful." She tilted her head slightly. "Option three is where you refuse cooperation and I pursue maximum punishment instead of minimal consequences."

Carver’s jaw clenched. "You’re insane."

"I’m practical. You tried to destroy my business and harm my customers. I’m responding proportionally." She set the agreement on a nearby table. "Sign, or face the consequences. You have sixty seconds to decide."

"I need time to consult with—"

"Fifty seconds."

"This is absurd! You can’t just—"

"Forty seconds."

Carver looked around—at his estate, his guards who wouldn’t meet his eyes, the magistrate who held imperial authority he couldn’t challenge.

"You’ll destroy me if I refuse," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"Even if I fight? Even if I use every resource I have?"

"Especially then. Because dragging it out wastes my time, and I value my time highly." Elara checked her pocket watch. "Twenty seconds."

"Damn you," Carver whispered.

"Fifteen."

He grabbed the pen from the table. His hand shook as he signed—rage making the signature barely legible.

"There. Satisfied?"

Elara took the document, verified the signature, and handed it to Dimitri. "The magistrate will witness the transfer. You have one week to finalize all paperwork and vacate Port Crestfall. If you’re still here on the eighth day, the original charges get filed immediately."

"I hate you," Carver said, voice low and vicious. "You walked into this city with nothing. You’re unfavored. The weakest princess in the succession battle. And you think you can just take everything I’ve built?"

"I don’t think. I already did." Elara turned to leave. "One week, Merchant Lord Carver. Use it wisely."

She walked out, her knights following in formation.

Behind her, she heard something shatter—probably Carver throwing something in rage. She didn’t turn around.

Outside, in the carriage ride back, Dimitri spoke carefully. "Your Highness... that was brutal."

"It was efficient."

"He’s ruined. Everything he built over decades, gone in one conversation."

"He poisoned my customers," Elara said simply. "Actions have consequences."

"But—" Dimitri hesitated. "Your Highness, you’re making a lot of powerful enemies very quickly. Kessler, Carver, soon Marrs. And you’re in the middle of a succession battle with multiple other princesses. What happens when—"

"When they band together against me?" Elara looked out the window at Port Crestfall passing by. "The local nobles won’t. Kessler left the city out of fear. Carver will leave out of survival instinct. Marrs will fall this afternoon. By tomorrow, every noble in Port Crestfall will understand that opposing me costs more than tolerating me."

"I meant your sisters. The other princesses competing for the throne."

"Different problem. Requires different solution." She turned to face him. "But the local threats needed to be neutralized first. I can’t fight in the succession battle while local enemies are sabotaging my operations."

Dimitri nodded slowly. "You’re clearing the board before the real game begins."

"I’m establishing a power base independent of palace politics." She paused. "The succession battle is between multiple princesses. First Princess Eleana Blackwood leads—she’s the assumed heir, strongest politically, backed by the First Consort. Third Princess Mingzhu Blackwood is the main challenger—quiet, deadly, building her own faction."

"And you’re the Fourth Princess. Where do you fit?"

"Currently? I’m the weakest. The one everyone dismissed." Elara’s expression didn’t change. "But I’m also the only one building independent revenue streams and military capability outside the palace. That makes me unpredictable. Dangerous in a different way."

"So the other princesses want you dead before you become a real threat."

"Exactly. Eleana and Mingzhu are coordinating to eliminate me now, while I’m vulnerable. Better to remove me before I grow strong enough to tip the balance between them."

"And the other princesses? Fifth, Sixth, Seventh?"

"Insufficient data. But they’re fighting too. Multiple princesses, one throne. Only one can win." She looked back out the window. "The question is whether I can survive long enough to actually compete."

The carriage continued through the city. Elara’s mind was already moving to the next target.

Viscount Helena Marrs. Connected to the succession battle through one of the other princesses. Political motivation rather than economic.

Different approach needed. But the outcome would be the same.

Another enemy removed. Another piece of the board cleared.

By sunset, the local threats would be neutralized entirely.

Then she could focus on the real problem—the capital, her sisters, and the succession battle that would determine whether she lived or died.

.

.

Viscount Helena Marrs was smarter than Kessler and more politically connected than Carver.

Elara knew this before she even arrived at the Viscount’s townhouse that afternoon.

Marrs was nobility, not merchant class. Her family had held their title for six generations. She had connections in the capital, including direct communication with other princesses’ households. And unlike the others, she hadn’t made obvious mistakes that could be proven in court.

Funding assassination attempts through carefully laundered textile guild donations was sophisticated. Hard to trace. Harder to prove.

But not impossible.

Elara stood outside Marrs’s townhouse with a different approach than she’d used with Carver. Only three beast knights this time, no magistrate, no folders of overwhelming evidence.

Just her, Dimitri, and a single sealed letter.

The servant who answered looked nervous. "Your Highness. The Viscount is not receiving—"

"Tell her I have a letter from the Second Princess Sera Blackwood," Elara said calmly. "She’ll want to see it."

The servant’s eyes widened. He disappeared inside.

Two minutes later, Elara was shown into an elegant sitting room where Viscount Marrs waited.

She was in her forties, beautiful in a sharp way, dressed impeccably in blue silk that matched her eyes. Everything about her screamed refinement, breeding, political acumen.

"Your Highness," she said, standing and offering a respectful curtsey. "What an unexpected pleasure. Though I’m confused about this letter you mentioned—"

"There is no letter," Elara said.

Marrs froze mid-movement.

"I lied to your servant to ensure you’d see me." Elara sat down without being invited. "We’re going to have a conversation. You’re going to listen. Then you’re going to make a choice."

Marrs’s expression shifted—surprise to calculation to controlled anger. "That’s quite presumptuous, Your Highness. You enter my home under false pretenses—"

"You spent six hundred forty gold hiring assassins to kill me," Elara interrupted. "Laundered through textile guild charitable donations. Three separate contracts over five weeks. All failed."

The color drained from Marrs’s face.

"I have payment records, testimony from the intermediaries, and documented proof of your connection to other princesses’ factions in the succession battle." Elara pulled out a single paper—not full folders like with Carver, just one page. "This is a summary. The complete evidence is in secure storage."

Marrs sat down slowly. "This is... I don’t know what you think you have, but—"

"Don’t lie. We both know you did it. The question is what happens next."

Silence.

Marrs studied Elara’s face, clearly trying to calculate the play. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop trying to kill me. I want you to withdraw all support from local anti-Fourth Princess activities. And I want you to send a message to whichever princess’s household you’re connected to that I’m not a viable target."

"That’s... substantial."

"Less substantial than what I did to Baron Kessler and Merchant Lord Carver today." Elara’s voice remained calm. "Kessler signed over all his properties and fled the city. Carver did the same an hour ago. Both chose survival over pride."

Marrs’s eyes widened slightly. "You... both of them? In one day?"