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

Chapter 426: Chapter-426

"It wasn’t an alteration, Elara; it was a maintenance request," Julian replied, his ice-blue eyes fixed on her face with an analytical, cool amusement. "I am living in that wing, after all. If my quarters turn into a sauna, it reduces my sleep quality, which ultimately reduces my efficiency as a ’legal asset’ during the upcoming solstice ceremony. I am just protecting your investment."

From the shadows of the doorway, Mahir’s ears pinned back instantly. He had followed Elara to the conservatory as part of his routine escort duty, and seeing the silver-haired prince standing so casually in her vicinity made his tail lash once against the doorframe.

Julian didn’t even flinch at the sound. He kept his gaze locked on Elara, his posture completely relaxed, showing that he had fully accepted the rules of her game—but he was still going to play it on his own terms.

Elara watched him for a beat, analyzing his heart rate and his steady breathing. He wasn’t trying to breach Clause Twelve, and he wasn’t demanding her bed. He was simply existing in her space, entirely unbothered by her coldness.

"Your logic regarding sleep quality is acceptable," Elara stated flatly, picking her quill back up. "The steam valves will be monitored. Do not touch the equipment yourself."

"Understood, Master," Julian said smoothly, using her title with a lazy, almost teasing cadence before turning back to look at the plants. He had no intention of leaving immediately, but he wasn’t going to crowd her either. He was just there, a perfectly calm, nonchalant addition to her quiet afternoon.

Elara looked up from her ledger, her quill pausing mid-air. She raised a single eyebrow, her face still mostly blank, but her tone sharper than usual. "Master? What the heck?"

Julian froze for a split second, surprised by her reaction, and then he burst into a genuine, clear laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Well, that’s what your so-called knights call you, I have heard," he said, his voice laced with an easy, amused chuckle. He lowered his hand, leaning his weight back against the stone pillar. "And besides, I didn’t know that the royal family here could even use words like *heck*."

Elara looked at him, completely calm and unbothered by his teasing. "Well, I am not using swear words, but it is just that your word choice is something that could cause a misunderstanding."

Hearing that, Julian’s smile widened. He leaned forward slightly, shifting his posture toward her table. This was the exact same guy who had been acting like a walking corpse for the past few days, completely defeated by her cold logic. But now, here he was, acting all nonchalant again, like absolutely nothing in the world mattered.

"Oh, come on," he said, his baritone voice dropping into a smooth, playful cadence. "You are my fiancée. What would people even think about it if they heard me call you that?"

Elara didn’t blink. She looked him straight in the eyes and answered in her usual, glacial monotone.

"A very inappropriate thing."

Julian looked at her, slightly covering his mouth with his hand again, a wicked, amused glint flashing in his ice-blue eyes. "Well, well," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful mockery. "If someone heard you talk like that, they would think you are some virgin maiden."

Elara paused.

For the first time in a long time, the mechanical rhythm of her thoughts hit a sudden speed bump. You simply did not hear that type of word used in the imperial palace.

While she had lived a previous life where modern people were blunt, frank, and used whatever slang they wanted to without a second thought, this world was entirely different. Here, decorum was everything. Ever since she had entered this timeline, people had treated her with absolute, trembling respect. It didn’t matter if they were high-ranking nobles or the lowest kitchen servants—no one dared to speak casually to her, let alone use a word so unpolished.

She didn’t blush, and her heart rate didn’t spike, but she set her quill down completely, her vacant glass-bead eyes locking onto Julian with a heavy, unblinking intensity.

From the doorway, the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere was instantaneous. Mahir, who had been listening silently from the shadows, let out a low, dangerous hiss. His beast-kin ears flattened entirely against his dark hair, and his tail lashed hard against the stone doorframe with a sharp *thwack*. He took a half-step forward, his golden eyes wide with a feral rage, waiting for the slightest signal from his Master to put the arrogant foreign prince on his knees.

Julian felt the sudden spike of lethal tension radiating from the door, but he stubbornly kept his shoulders relaxed, refusing to look back at the guard. He kept his eyes fixed entirely on Elara, waiting to see if his modern, nonchalant bluntness had finally managed to crack her bloodless armor.

Julian took his hand away from his mouth and let his smile fade into something a bit more serious. He stepped away from the stone pillar and took a few steps closer to her table, looking down at the neat lines of data in her open ledger.

"You know exactly what I mean," Julian said, his voice dropping into a quiet, honest tone. "Look at you. You sit there with that perfectly blank face, writing your reports, tracking your percentages, and treating every human being who walks into your room like a broken calculation. It’s exhausting just watching it. Why don’t you just stop acting like a machine for five minutes?"

Elara didn’t blink. She sat perfectly still, her hands resting flat on the edges of her desk. The accusation didn’t make her angry, but the phrasing introduced a conceptual error into her current analysis.

She lifted her head, her vacant eyes locking onto his face, and asked in a completely flat tone, "What do you mean?"

Julian stared at her, letting out a short, disbelieving breath. "See? Right there. That tone. It’s like I’m talking to a legal document instead of a person. You don’t react, you don’t show irritation, and you don’t even flinch when I use slang that would make a regular noblewoman faint. You just process it like data. It’s like your entire system is running on clockwork and steel instead of blood."

"My behavior is optimized for administrative efficiency," Elara replied matter-of-factly, her voice an unchanging, smooth line. "Operating without emotional bias prevents communication errors. I am not acting like a machine; I am simply eliminating unnecessary noise from the conversation."

"Human beings *are* noise, Elara," Julian countered, leaning his hands on the far edge of the walnut table, his ice-blue eyes searching hers for even a spark of heat. "We are messy, we get frustrated, and we say inappropriate things when we’re trying to figure each other out. But you just sit there, perfectly balanced, completely unbothered. It’s like there’s no one actually inside that uniform."

From the doorway, Mahir’s fingers curled tightly into the wood of the frame, his knuckles turning white as he listened to the prince push the boundary. He wanted nothing more than to drag Julian out of the conservatory by his silver hair, but Elara’s posture remained completely relaxed, keeping the guard anchored to his spot.

She looked at Julian’s hands on her table, then back up at his tired, intense eyes. "If my lack of emotional display causes you cognitive discomfort, that is a variable you must manage independently. It does not alter the fact that the treaty is secure and the boundaries are set."