Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 175 --

"You showed me hell. You showed me people suffering for their choices. Fine. But you know what I didn’t see? I didn’t see the souls of ’system designers’. The people who created structures that forced others into impossible choices. The architects of oppression who never personally wielded a whip but designed the entire framework of subjugation."

Elara’s eyes were cold.

"Where are they in your hell? The people who designed the collar system? The emperors who codified beast knight enslavement into law? The magical researchers who developed the binding enchantments? Are they burning in those rivers? Drowning in those cycles? Or did they get a pass because their hands stayed clean?"

# Scene: The White Room - The Real Question

The woman’s voice carried that divine certainty—that musical tone that suggested righteousness and cosmic justice. But inside, where gods kept their truest thoughts, there was something else.

Satisfaction.

Almost... rejoicing.

’Of course those people were punished,’ she thought. ’How could I let the people who designed that system go unpunished?’

But Elara caught it. That fractional shift in energy. That microsecond of emotional leakage.

She tilted her head slightly, and something that wasn’t quite a smile touched her lips.

"Oh, is that so?"

The woman blinked. "What?"

"You punished them. The emperors. The system designers. The people who created the beast knight enslavement infrastructure." Elara’s voice was still flat, but there was an edge now. "How ’dare’ you?"

The white void seemed to freeze.

"How dare I—what are you—"

"Do you even know how many people an emperor protects?" Elara continued, relentless. "You just condemned them to hell. Why? Because they enslaved beast knights? You saw that they used slave labor, but did you see ’why’ they did it? Did you see how many people were protected thanks to beast knights being under control? How many wars were prevented? How much stability was maintained?"

The woman’s expression shifted—shock replacing certainty.

"You don’t know, do you?" Elara pressed. "You don’t see how much an emperor sacrifices. How many impossible choices they face. How they balance thousands of lives against thousands of other lives. You just saw slavery and decided it was evil. Simple. Clean. Morally satisfying."

She took a step forward.

"But if we go by ’that’ rule—by your standard of consent and choice—then what about you? You threw me into this world without my consent. Without asking. Without telling me what I was agreeing to. Aren’t ’you’ also a criminal? Aren’t ’you’ someone who should be punished?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

The woman stared at Elara with an expression that was half-shocked, half-impressed, and entirely off-balance.

When she finally spoke, her voice had lost that divine certainty:

"Elara... what do you want?"

"What?"

"What do you ’want’? Truthfully?"

Elara was quiet for a moment. Then she sat down—right there on the white void’s surface, cross-legged, like she was settling in for a long negotiation.

"I have the same question for you," she said. "Why the hell only me? Why do you want specifically ’me’ to be the owner of this body?"

The woman’s eyebrows rose. "I don’t want only you. There could be many—"

"Yes. There could be many." Elara’s interruption was sharp. "So why are you so fixated on me that you’ve sent me here twice? I don’t think there’s any logical reason for that."

She gestured broadly.

"Even now, I might be in a coma in my original world. Or dead. Or whatever state my Earth body is in. Why are you explaining everything to me? Why do you want me to continue living here? Is it really for free?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"And even if it’s for free—which I doubt—you’re a divine guardian. I assume you have enough power to just get another person in this body. Someone more capable. More kind-hearted. Someone who’d actually ’feel’ compassion instead of having to calculate it."

Elara leaned forward slightly.

"So why are you so fixated on me that you want me—specifically me—to be the owner of this body?"

The woman was silent.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes.

Finally, she spoke, voice quieter than before:

"Just as you said... it’s not me who wants you in this body."

Elara went very still.

"If I wished," the woman continued, "I could throw you out whenever I want. No matter how... constrained... I am, I have enough power for that. But it was someone else who wanted you here."

"And I want you to tell me who that person is."

"Not possible." The woman’s voice firmed. "It’s against the rules for us to let you know who it was. I can’t—"

"So it’s not against the rules," Elara interrupted, voice cutting like ice, "for you to summon my soul and throw it into different bodies again and again? But telling me ’why’ is prohibited?"

She stood up sharply.

"Isn’t it illegal for a god to summon a soul and relocate it without consent? Why are you interrupting my existence? If I die, then let me die. Move on to the next candidate. Stop dragging me back."

Her expression remained blank, but her words carried steel:

"Even though I don’t know about gods and their rules, I know one thing for sure: reviving a dead person—actually dead, not mostly dead—is not something a guardian like you could do on a whim."

The woman’s face had gone very careful. Very controlled.

"You’re right," she said slowly. "I can’t revive the truly dead. Not without... significant authorization."

"From whom?"

"That’s—"

"Against the rules, yes, I know." Elara’s voice was acid now. "Everything that might actually explain what’s happening to me is conveniently against your rules. But manipulating my existence? Showing me hell? Lecturing me about moral responsibility? That’s all perfectly fine."

She crossed her arms.

"So let me make this very clear: I don’t believe you. I don’t believe this is random. I don’t believe I was chosen arbitrarily. And I absolutely don’t believe that some mysterious ’someone else’ just happened to want me—a broken, emotionless CEO from a completely different reality—to inhabit the body of a dead princess in a magical empire."

Elara’s eyes were cold.

"There’s a reason. A specific reason. And you know what it is. So either tell me, or stop pretending this conversation is about moral education. Because we both know it’s not."

The woman looked at her for a long, long moment.

Then she sat down too—mirroring Elara’s earlier position, settling onto the white void’s surface with an exhale that sounded almost... human.

"You’re too smart for your own good," she said quietly.

"That’s not an answer."

"No. It’s not." The woman was quiet for another moment. "What if I told you that the ’someone else’ who wanted you here is also someone you can’t know about yet? Not because of arbitrary rules, but because knowing would fundamentally change your choices in ways that would... break things?"

Elara processed this. "Break things how?"

"Causality. Destiny. The specific chain of events that needs to happen for certain outcomes to occur." The woman’s expression was troubled. "You’re very good at logic, Elara. So think logically: if I tell you ’why’ you’re here, what do you do?"

"I optimize for that outcome."

"Exactly. You stop making genuine choices and start performing a role again. Everything becomes calculated toward a specific endpoint. And that defeats the entire purpose of your being here."