Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 206 --

"You were supposed to be the scapegoat," the Fifth Concubine admitted. "The Fourth Princess—weak, ignored, politically irrelevant. If you died from poison that created magical instability, if you became increasingly erratic and dangerous, if you eventually committed some act of violence against the Emperor in a poison-induced rage..."

She shrugged.

"Everyone would believe it. The unstable princess who finally snapped. Your death would be tragic but justified. And in the chaos of the succession crisis that followed, I thought—" She stopped. "I thought maybe the Harem would be forgotten. Maybe in the confusion, some of us could escape. Find new lives. Disappear."

"But I didn’t die," Elara said.

"No. You adapted. You survived. You became *dangerous* in ways I didn’t anticipate." The Fifth Concubine smiled slightly. "You’re not the weak princess I thought you were. You’re something else entirely."

Elara processed this information with her usual clinical detachment.

The Fifth Concubine wasn’t evil. Not really. She was desperate. Traumatized. Trapped in circumstances that had destroyed her future and killed the person she loved.

The poison hadn’t been about Elara at all. It had been about creating chaos. An opportunity for escape dressed as tragedy.

"The other concubines," Elara said. "How many of them have similar stories?"

"All of us." The Fifth Concubine’s voice was flat. "Every single woman in this Harem has a story like mine. Taken. Coerced. Trapped. Some were kidnapped outright. Others were ’offered’ by families who couldn’t refuse imperial interest. A few came willingly at first, not understanding what they were agreeing to."

She gestured around.

"This is what your father built, Your Highness. This is the legacy of the ’great’ Emperor. Twenty women—now fifteen—stolen from their lives and kept as permanent prisoners for his pleasure."

Demerti made a sound of genuine distress. "Your Highness, I had no idea—the official records don’t—"

"The official records wouldn’t," the Fifth Concubine said. "That’s the point. We’re not officially *anything*. Not prisoners. Not servants. Not even concubines in the legal sense. We just... exist. In this space that’s technically part of the palace but also separate from it. Invisible."

She looked at Elara.

"So yes. I tried to kill the Emperor. I tried to frame you. I tried to escape this hell through any means necessary. And I’d do it again if I had the chance."

Silence filled the room.

Elara stood very still, processing.

The Emperor she’d just killed—the man whose death she’d justified as strategic necessity—had been a monster. Not just a political opponent. Not just an inconvenient authority figure. An actual, literal monster who’d kidnapped women and kept them as permanent sex slaves.

And she’d been planning to leave this system intact. Work within it. Maybe eventually reform it.

"Your Highness," Ken said quietly. "Orders?"

Elara looked at him. At Demerti. At the Beast Knights who were all staring at her, waiting for direction.

Then she looked back at the Fifth Concubine.

"The women here," Elara said slowly. "All fifteen of them. Do they want to leave?"

The Fifth Concubine’s eyes widened. "What?"

"Simple question. If given the choice—genuine choice, no coercion, no consequences—would they choose to leave the Harem?"

"I... yes. Of course. All of us. We’d leave today if we could—"

"Then they’re free to go."

Everyone stared at her.

"Your Highness," Demerti said carefully. "You can’t just—the Emperor’s concubines are technically imperial property—releasing them without proper documentation would—"

"The Emperor is dead," Elara interrupted. "His property reverts to imperial control. As acting regent, I’m exercising that control by granting them freedom."

She looked at the Fifth Concubine directly.

"You’ll be executed. That’s non-negotiable—you did orchestrate assassination attempts, you did poison me, and I need a visible scapegoat for political stability. But the others—" She gestured toward the gardens. "—they go free. Immediately. With financial compensation for years of forced service. Enough gold to start new lives wherever they choose."

The Fifth Concubine’s face crumpled. "You’re... you’re letting them go?"

"Yes."

"But why? You need them for—for evidence, for—"

"I don’t need fifteen traumatized women as evidence. I have you. That’s sufficient." Elara’s tone was matter-of-fact. "Keeping them imprisoned serves no strategic purpose now that the Emperor’s dead. Releasing them costs me nothing and eliminates a potential source of future resentment."

"That’s not—you’re not—" The Fifth Concubine was openly crying now. "You’re not doing this for strategy. You’re doing it because it’s *right*."

"I’m doing it because it’s efficient," Elara corrected. "But if it happens to also be right, that’s acceptable."

She turned to Demerti.

"Draft release documents. Freedom grants for all concubines except this one. Include financial settlements—calculate based on years of service, adjusted for lack of consent. Make it generous enough that they can actually rebuild their lives."

"Your Highness, the treasury—"

"Has enough. Do it."

Demerti bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

Elara looked back at the Fifth Concubine, who was staring at her with an expression of complete disbelief.

"I can’t save you," Elara said quietly. "You tried to kill me. You tried to kill the Emperor. You’re politically necessary as a scapegoat. But I can save them."

"Why?" The Fifth Concubine’s voice broke. "Why would you do this? After everything I did to you—"

"Because you were right," Elara said simply. "This is a prison. A beautiful cage built by a monster. And I don’t need it. So I’m dismantling it."

She walked toward the door, then paused.

"Your fiancé. What was his name?"

The Fifth Concubine wiped her eyes. "Tomas. His name was Tomas."

"I’ll have a memorial erected. In the gardens. Something simple. So people remember that the Emperor’s ’paradise’ was built on stolen lives."

"You don’t have to—"

"I know. But it’s efficient. Memorials create narratives. And I want the narrative to be clear: the old system was broken. The new one will be better."

Elara left.

The Fifth Concubine collapsed into her chair, sobbing openly now—relief, grief, gratitude, despair all mixed together.

And in the gardens beyond, fourteen women would soon learn they were free.

Because an impossible girl had made an impossible choice.

Not for morality.

Not for compassion.

But because efficiency and ethics had finally, *finally*, aligned.

And when they aligned, Elara could follow both.

Even if she couldn’t feel why it mattered.

She knew it did.

And that was enough.

The palace had not slept.

From the moment the emperor’s body was carried back beneath the heavy silk canopy, the corridors had been drowning in footsteps, whispers, ink-stained scrolls, and the sharp scent of incense that never quite masked the truth. Managing the funeral rites was only a fragment of it. There were decrees to seal, ministers to appease, foreign envoys to reassure, and a restless court sniffing for weakness.

If Elara had not already placed capable administrators in key positions months ago—men and women who owed loyalty to her rather than to a fading throne—she might have collapsed beneath the avalanche of responsibilities. Even then, exhaustion pressed against her temples like a quiet threat. She endured it without complaint.

The funeral itself had to be magnificent.

No matter what the emperor had been behind closed doors, he was still the ruler of the empire in the eyes of the public. Truth, she knew, was not a blade one could swing carelessly. The masses rarely weighed justice; they weighed spectacle. If she revealed his sins now, the scandal would not only stain his name—it would tear open the entire royal lineage. Ministers would turn cautious, nobles opportunistic, foreign powers curious. Instigation would bloom like rot.

So she swallowed the truth.

For now.