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

Chapter 405: Chapter-405

The heavy velvet curtains kept the morning sun at bay, plunging the room into a deep, dark stillness. Hours had bled away into the morning, and the frantic intensity of the night before had cooled into a profound, heavy silence.

Elara woke up first. Her eyes opened slowly, without a start or a single blink of disorientation. She lay perfectly still, taking stock of her surroundings. The physical weight pressing down on her was immense. To her left, Ken was dead to the world, one of his heavily muscled arms thrown over her stomach, pinning her down like an anchor. Behind her, Mahir was wrapped around her back like a second blanket, his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. His breathing was slow and deep, his beast-kin ears twitching occasionally against her skin in his sleep, while his tail remained loosely curled around her ankle.

For a normal person, waking up completely trapped by two massive men would feel suffocating. For Elara, it was a perfectly acceptable arrangement. The physical heat they radiated was a shield against the chilly morning air of the imperial palace.

She didn’t try to move immediately. Instead, she lay there staring up at the intricate woodwork of the bed canopy. The "filled empty" sensation that usually haunted her quiet moments wasn’t there. Her body felt thoroughly used, a dull, deep ache settling into her muscles, and her mind was remarkably quiet. The internal static—the constant, grinding gears of statecraft, succession lines, and political maneuvering—was entirely gone. There was only the sound of two synchronized heartbeats and the heavy warmth of the bed.

Slowly, testing the boundaries of her cage, Elara shifted her leg.

The slight movement immediately caused Mahir to stir. A low, gravelly rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound that was half-purr, half-complaint. His grip around her waist tightened instinctively, pulling her flush against his chest. His nose nuzzled into the skin of her shoulder, his lips brushing against a faint bruise he had left the night before.

"Don’t move, Master," Mahir muttered, his voice incredibly thick with sleep. His beast ears flattened against his messy, dark hair, shielding out the faint morning light that leaked through the edge of the curtains. "It’s too early."

"It is past ten," Elara replied, her voice flat and entirely level, showing no signs of the morning rasp most people had. "The administrator will be looking for the signed documents by noon."

"Let them look," Ken’s voice chimed in from her other side. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but his arm tightened across her midsection, pulling her slightly toward him. A lazy smirk touched his lips. "If Demerti comes knocking, Mahir will throw a shoe at the door. We’re not letting you up yet."

"Demerti looks old enough as it is. If you throw a shoe at him, he might actually retire," Elara countered objectively.

Ken chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he finally cracked his eyes open. His dark, sharp eyes looked down at her, completely devoid of the fierce, predatory intensity from the night before, replaced instead by a relaxed, heavy satisfaction. He leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"See? You’re already thinking about other people’s stress," Ken murmured, his fingers trailing down her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. "You have ten percent of the workload now, Master. Learn to act like it."

Mahir finally opened his eyes, blinking lazily before propping his chin on her shoulder. "He’s right. For the last two weeks, you slept fifteen hours a day. Today you only got eight. Your body hasn’t fully reset yet."

"I am clear-minded," Elara stated, though she didn’t actually fight their hold. She remained perfectly lax between them, allowing them to adjust her like a doll. "The migraine has lifted. I do not require fifteen hours anymore."

"We’ll see about that," Ken said, his hand sliding down from her jaw to cup her bare shoulder, rubbing the smooth skin with his thumb. "You tried horse riding yesterday and failed. Your muscles are going to lock up if you try to sit at a desk all day. Stay here."

Elara considered his logic. From a purely administrative standpoint, waking up and immediately forcing her body into a stiff chair after intense physical exertion—both from the training field and the bedroom—was inefficient. Her recovery rate would be optimized by remaining recumbent for another hour.

"Very well," Elara agreed. "One hour."

Mahir let out a satisfied huff, his tail thumping twice against the mattress before settling down. He shifted his position, rolling Elara slightly onto her side so she was facing Ken, while he remained pressed against her spine. It was a suffocatingly close embrace, a human sandwich of pure muscle and heat, but it was exactly what she needed to keep the coldness of her own mind at bay.

Ken looked at her, his expression softening into something uncharacteristically gentle. He reached out, his long fingers tangling in her loose hair, moving a few stray strands away from her face.

"You know," Ken murmured, his voice quiet in the dim room, "everyone outside this room is terrified of you. Even Samuel looks like he’s walking on eggshells when you enter the imperial court."

"Samuel lacks confidence because he focuses too much on the opinions of the minor nobles," Elara replied, her tone analytical. "He needs to understand that power is not granted by their approval, but by their lack of options. I left him as the only viable choice. He simply needs to act like it."

"And Demerti?" Mahir asked from behind, his lips brushing her earlobe as he spoke. "He looked like he was about to cry when he left your office last night."

"Demerti is sentimental. He thinks about the past too much," Elara said. "He is thirty-three. He has a family now. His priorities have naturally shifted from the empire to his household, yet his mind refuses to accept the transition. He expects me to follow a traditional trajectory—marriage, succession, retirement. Because I do not fit into those parameters, he experiences cognitive dissonance."

Ken let out a soft sigh, a mixture of amusement and fondness. "You really can turn anything into a report, can’t you, Master?"

"It is a statement of fact."

"But he’s not entirely wrong to wonder," Ken continued, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. "A lot of people tried to claim you. Princes, noble houses, foreign lords. They offered armies, wealth, alliances. And you ignored every single one of them."

"They wanted an emperor, or a political symbol," Elara stated flatly. "They did not want me. And even if they did, their presence would require emotional labor that I am incapable of providing. It would be an inefficient use of resources."

"And what about us?" Mahir asked, his arm tightening around her waist, his fingers pressing into her hip. His voice carried a rare hint of vulnerability, though it was masked by his usual gruffness. "We don’t offer you alliances or empires. We’re just... here. Taking up your bed."

Elara turned her head slightly, looking back at Mahir as best as she could in the tight embrace, before looking back at Ken.