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

"No. I’ll designate a drop point." Elara read the contract. It was surprisingly professional—clear terms, specific deliverables, no hidden clauses she could spot. "You’ll include sources when possible?"

"When it doesn’t compromise my network, yes. When it does, you’ll get the information but not the source." He pulled out another pen and slid it to her. "Non-negotiable on that point."

"Acceptable."

She signed. He countersigned and made a copy with surprising speed, tucking one into his notebook.

"Pleasure doing business, Your Highness." He stood, and she did the same.

"Just Elara is fine."

"Elara, then." He walked her toward the door. "One piece of free advice, since you’re new to Port Crestfall and I like your style."

"Yes?"

"The people trying to kill you? They’re not doing it because you’re weak or because you’re an easy target." He opened the door to the hallway. "They’re doing it because you’re dangerous. And they know it before you’ve even finished showing them how dangerous you really are."

Elara considered that. "You’re saying I should be careful."

"I’m saying you should be faster." He gestured down the hallway. "Kill them before they kill you. Or make them irrelevant. But don’t wait for them to give up—people with resources don’t give up. They just get more creative."

"Noted."