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

He settled into the chair across from her with practiced ease, Kael taking position to his left in his simpler traveling jacket—the son deferring to the father’s authority. Both men took small portions from the offerings—protocol, not hunger.

Elara looked at the elder Verin directly. "Shall we discuss the collaboration?"

A slight smile crossed his face as he set down a pastry untouched. "It seems Your Highness is confident her product will be successful."

"I made it myself. Of course I’m confident it works correctly." Her tone was flat, factual. "Am I wrong?"

"Not at all, Your Highness. The preservation anchor performed exactly as promised. Quite impressive, actually." He picked up his wine glass, took a measured sip. "However, I do have concerns about the contract terms."

Elara’s expression didn’t change. "What concerns?"

"The revenue split Your Highness proposed—thirty percent to your household, sixty percent to our operations. Don’t you think that’s rather... excessive on your end?"

Elara set down her own cup with deliberate care, the fine porcelain clicking against its saucer. Her eyes locked on his, and something in her gaze shifted—from polite business discussion to something considerably sharper.

"Oh? And what exactly is excessive about it?" Her voice remained level, but the temperature in the room dropped noticeably. "Please explain."

Verin’s smile flickered slightly. "Well, Your Highness, considering we’re providing all the infrastructure—the ships, the warehouses, the distribution networks, the merchant relationships—while you’re simply supplying the anchors, thirty percent seems quite high. Perhaps fifteen or twenty would be more appropriate—"

Elara raised one hand, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Mr. Verin." Her tone was ice. "From the moment you started speaking just now, your eyes have been calculating how much you can negotiate down. Let me be extremely clear about something."