Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 196 --

The System had been hovering around her for the past twenty minutes. Circling. Fidgeting. Its tiny tail curling and uncurling with obvious agitation.

Elara continued writing—cross-referencing merchant contracts with patrol schedules, looking for patterns in who had access to the palace kitchen when her tea had been poisoned. Her pen moved with mechanical precision across the paper.

Finally, she set it down.

"Is there anything you want to say?" she asked without looking up. "Just say it. Stop disturbing me."

The System didn’t hesitate.

"Are you perhaps the noble lady type? Like, saving yourself for your first man—your husband or something like that?"

Elara’s pen stopped.

She continued writing after a brief pause, her tone completely flat. "Why would you think that?"

"Well," the System said, floating closer, "the way to make this poison less painful is to have sex. But you’re not willing to do it, no matter how much pain you’re in. Even now, you act like you’d rather die than agree to it."

Elara’s pen stopped again.

She looked at the System like it was a particularly stupid piece of malfunctioning equipment.

"Are you crazy?" She set down her pen with deliberate care. "I used to be a CEO. A wealthy woman in a cutthroat industry. Do you ’really’ think I lived my whole life staying ’pure’ for some so-called husband?"

The System blinked its enormous eyes. "Is that not—"

"I’ve had my fair share of fun," Elara interrupted, tone clinical. "I’m actually quite experienced in that area. I think I couldn’t even count on one hand how many people I’ve slept with over the years."

The System’s eyes went comically wide. "Then why are you refusing—"

"Listen." Elara leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled. "Tell me what the primary characteristic of this poison is. What’s the most problematic aspect?"

The System recovered quickly from its shock. "It’s centered around sexual arousal. Forcing the body to—"

"Exactly." Elara’s voice was cold now. Sharp. "Whoever gave me this poison ’wants’ me to do that. The poison’s design, its mechanism, its entire purpose revolves around forcing that specific action. Which means they’ve planned for it. Anticipated it. Probably have contingencies in place."

The System went very still.

Elara continued, her tone taking on that dangerous flatness that meant her mind was working at full capacity. "This poison didn’t just appear randomly. Someone commissioned it. Someone researched me specifically—my magical capacity, my inexperience in this body, my political vulnerabilities. Someone with significant resources and access got it past all palace security measures and into my food or drink."

"But—" The System’s voice was uncertain now. "Right now, the Emperor is unconscious. The First Empress and the Crown Prince are both out of the political game. The Second and Third Princesses are eliminated. The Sixth Princess is too young. So who—"

Elara looked at it with a slight, cold smile.

"Do you think," she said quietly, "that those are the only players in this palace?"

The System’s ears flattened. "What do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten that the Emperor has ’many’ consorts? And those consorts have ’many’ children?" Elara’s fingers tapped once against the desk. "Not all of them are fighting for the throne. But all of them are fighting to survive. To maintain position. To protect their bloodlines."

"But they’re..." The System hesitated. "They’re not significant players. They’re—"

"Useless?" Elara’s cold glare could have frozen water. "Do you think anyone who survives in this palace this long—who bears the Emperor’s child, who raises that child through years of court intrigue, who navigates the constant threat of assassination and political destruction—do you think those people are ’normal’?"

The System was quiet.

"There’s a saying," Elara continued, voice soft and lethal. "A harem is boiling lava. And whoever survives in boiling lava cannot be human. They’re something else. Something harder. More dangerous." She paused. "For these consorts to keep themselves and their children alive while the major princesses fight their wars in the open? That requires significant skill. Significant ruthlessness. They’re not useless. They’re just invisible. Which makes them more dangerous, not less."

"But—" The System tried again. "But you have the Beast Knights. They’re completely loyal to you. You could do anything and they wouldn’t utter a word. They’d protect you from—"

Elara actually smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.

"The Beast Knights," she said, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child, "do not follow ’me’. They follow the ’royal blood’. They follow the ’Emperor’."

The System’s confusion was visible.

"Do you know," Elara asked conversationally, "why most royal offspring die after reaching adulthood when the succession wars begin?"

"Because they’re killed by their siblings?"

"Partially. But who do you think ’does’ the killing?" Elara leaned forward. "The Beast Knights protect us from outsiders. From external threats. From commoners and rebels and foreign assassins. But the Beast Knights ’cannot’ protect you from other royals. That’s built into their binding. They can’t interfere in royal conflicts. And there is one—’one’—person that all Beast Knights follow like clockwork, without question, without hesitation."

She let that hang in the air.

"The person on the throne," the System said slowly.

"Exactly." Elara’s voice was flat. "Right now, the Emperor is in a coma. But the moment he wakes up—the ’moment’—the Beast Knights will follow his orders above all others. Even mine. Especially mine."

She picked up her pen again, tapping it against the paper.

"If the Emperor woke up tomorrow and ordered all my people to die, they would do it in a heartbeat. Without hesitation. Without remorse. Because that’s what they’re designed to do."

"But..." The System sounded genuinely distressed now. "But they follow your orders ’now’. They’ve been protecting you. They nearly died grounding your magical overflow—"

"They follow me because I’m the Emperor’s ’substitute’," Elara said. "I’m acting as regent. I’m working in his name, with his authority. They protect me because protecting me serves the throne. But the moment that changes—" She snapped her fingers once. "—their loyalty changes with it."

"You’re saying they’re not really loyal to you."

"I’m saying their loyalty is ’conditional’." Elara’s voice was clinical. "Do you think if they knew I was planning to eventually claim the throne myself—to move against the Emperor’s established succession plans—they would continue serving me? Of course not."

The System made a frustrated sound. "But they were ’there’! Many of them witnessed the rampage! They saw you nearly die! They ’know’ the situation!"

Elara sighed—a long, patient sound.

"They were there. Yes. Everything is true. But if the Emperor woke up tomorrow and told them to cut me into pieces, would they do it?" She paused. "Probably not. There are limits even to their conditioning. But if he told them to cut down every one of my administrators, every one of my servants, every person who helps me maintain power—would they do ’that’?"

The System was silent.

"Yes," Elara answered her own question. "They would. Without hesitation. Because those people aren’t royal blood. Those people don’t have protection." Her voice dropped even colder. "That’s the weakness. Do you understand now? If the Emperor wakes up and asks them about my plans, asks them what I’ve been doing, asks them where my loyalties truly lie—they would tell him. Truthfully. Completely. They ’couldn’t’ lie to him even if they wanted to."