At twenty‑nine, she was the youngest CEO in the tech industry—NetVault Security had gone from small startup to Fortune 500 in just six years.  The media called her a prodigy. Her board called her unstoppable. 

Her therapist called her alexithymic.  
Unable to understand or describe her own emotions. 

The elevator chimed. Elara didn’t look up. Only one person had after‑hours access. 

“You’re late,” she said. “The investor meeting is in twelve hours. Did you review the—” 

“I’m not here about the meeting.” 

…  

“Ugh.” 

Elara lost her life that day at the hands of her mentor and adoptive father.  By the next morning, the same people who once called her a genius and praised her to the sky were calling her a coward who killed herself to escape scandal. 

Then Elara woke up. 

Not in her office. Not in a hospital.  
In a different world. In a different body. 

She was now Elara, the Fourth Princess of this so‑called great kingdom—only to find that this princess was an utter pushover, completely useless in everyone’s eyes.  No one feared her. No one respected her. Even her own palace was full of other people’s spies. 

How is Elara supposed to survive this palace battle, when seven princesses fight in the shadows and she’s known as the weakest one?  And can she ever escape this place… or will she decide to win instead? 

…  
…  

“Your Highness, please… ugh…” 

The leash of light around Mahir’s neck—the head of the knights—tightened with a soft pull.  His face flushed red, and not from pain. 

“Princess, here.” Ken, the strongest beast knight, knelt closer and held out a small pill between his fingers, guiding it gently to Elara’s lips. 

“Swallow it,” he said quietly. “You used too much power today.” 

On the floor below the bed, three beastmen knelt in a row, broad shoulders tense, ears twitching, their eyes fixed on her with dazed focus.  Thin, glowing leashes of magic ran from their collars to the bands at Elara’s wrists. 

“Please…” Ken’s voice dropped, rough and a little hoarse. “Put your foot here.” He touched his gloved hand to his chest. “On me.” 

Elara sighed, half annoyed, half amused, and rested her foot lightly on his armored chest.  All three of them drew in a sharp breath at the same time, faces turning even redder as the magic between them flared. 

Their eyes—gold, amber, and deep brown—looked up at her with the same lost, devoted gaze.

"I don't care if he's a legal ghost or a breathing corpse, Master," Mahir growled, his voice dropping into a register so low it rattled the glass inkwell on the corner of the desk. His golden eyes were wide, flashing with a desperate, furious territorialism. "A contract is just paper. Vultures don't care about paper. The moment he steps across our border, the moment he looks at you like he has a right to be near you, I'm going to tear his throat out. I don't care about the agricultural profits. I don't care about the fourteen percent. You are ours. You belong in our bed, not negotiating away your name to some weak-spined noble who couldn't even survive a day on the training grounds."


Chapter 410 - Chapter-410