The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 46: Here To Be Feared

Chapter 46: Here To Be Feared

I let them gather first.

The day after the meeting at the Palace, the day after I had been handed everything, I woke up early and got to work.

No announcement, no warning—just a direct order sent down the chain: All staff assigned to the Crown Princess’s eastern wing are to report to the inner courtyard. Immediately.

By the time I stepped outside with Shi Yaozu, fifty pairs of eyes were already waiting.

They didn’t bow at first. Not properly. A few maids dropped shallow curtsies. Some of the older stewards kept their hands folded, staring at the ground like this was another tedious formality. They were expecting me to say something about the banquet. Or linens. Or maybe assign flower arrangements.

They thought I’d sit behind silk, drink sweet tea, and blink pretty.

Pity.

I pulled out the chair at the head of the stone table in the courtyard, the one under the overhang, and sat. I didn’t wear a veil, and I didn’t bother with any makeup. Just me, in morning robes and a clean face, looking like a girl they thought they could steal from.

I folded my hands in my lap, a soft smile on my face.

"Let’s start with something simple," I said, my voice soft enough that they had to lean in to hear me. "Raise your hand if you think I’m stupid."

There wasn’t a single sound; it was like no one even breathed when I asked that question.

I smiled. "No one? That’s interesting. Because stupid people tend to miss things. Like the fact that two of my linen runners were reported as damaged and burned—yet were later recorded being sold in the marketplace under a different name."

Several heads turned. One maid shifted behind the line of kitchen girls.

"Or the fact," I continued, "that someone signed for three barrels of plum wine and two of them never made it past the kitchen."

I let that hang for a moment.

Someone in the back coughed.

I tilted my head. "Still no hands? How odd. Then let’s try something else. Raise your hand if you’ve stolen from me."

Nothing.

Of course.

I looked at the steward—Zheng. A round man with thin brows and a too-smooth voice. "Bring me the books," I said, holding out my hand.

He blinked. "The accounting—"

"Yes. All of it."

"Crown Princess, if this is about—"

"I said, bring me the books."

He scurried away like I had lit his ass on fire. I hadn’t yet, but the day was still young.

They brought them out on trays—ledgers, scrolls, tallied notes from the kitchen, medicine hall, and textile quarter. I opened the first one and began flipping.

No one moved, no one spoke. The rustle of paper was the only sound.

They clearly didn’t expect me to read them. But I did. Line by line. Not just the top pages, either. I went back three months, then six. I cross-checked food records against guest numbers, wine shipments against palace events. The weights didn’t match. The signatures were off.

And the funny thing about lying on paper?

It stacks.

"You," I said, pointing to one of the kitchen boys. "Where did you take the extra wine?"

His mouth opened, then closed. "I—I don’t—"

"Don’t lie," I said calmly. "It’ll make what happens next worse."

He dropped to his knees. "It was for the soldiers at the south gate. They—one of the guards asked for a bottle, and we—"

I held up a hand. "Thank you."

I turned to the other kitchen boy beside him. "And the second barrel?"

He hesitated.

Shi Yaozu took one step forward.

"One of the maids sold it," the boy blurted. "We—we split the coin."

I nodded and looked at the maid. A pretty thing with big eyes and a trembling lower lip. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, please don’t," I said, before she could squeeze out a single tear. "You’re not being punished because you’re poor. You’re being punished because you’re stupid. Selling royal stock? That’s not survival. That’s idiocy with perfume on it."

I turned to Steward Zheng. "You approved the tallies," I said, my face going blank. "How did you miss it?"

He flushed. "There must have been an error—"

"No," I interrupted. "There was negligence. Or collusion. Either way, I don’t care. You’re finished. You will be sent off to the market and sold. Hopefully, we can make back some of the money you skimmed off the surface."

He dropped to his knees, stammering, but I was already turning to the junior steward—a girl with ink stains on her fingers and a head that stayed low the entire time.

"What’s your name?"

"Qiao’er," she whispered.

"You’re in charge now."

Her head snapped up.

"Clean the records. Reorganize the ledgers. Burn anything that smells like rot. You’ll have full access starting this afternoon."

She bowed so low I thought she might fall over.

I gestured to two guards nearby. "Escort Steward Zheng to the disciplinary yard. Twenty-five lashes. Then he can be brought down to the marketplace to be sold."

"The Crown Prince won’t stand for this," announced Steward Zheng, puffing up his chest and lifting his chin. "You aren’t the official Crown Princess; you don’t have the authority to make these decisions."

"What I choose to do or not do is not something you can comment on. Since you think the Crown Prince will take your side, then there is only one thing that we can do." Creating a knife out of nothing was not hard, but hiding it from a guard who was staring me down was. That was a bit harder.

Either way, my knife flew across the distance between the steward and myself before finding its new home between his eyes.

"Now, where was I?" I smiled as the man fell to the ground. There was a soft gasp as one of the women stepped away from the dead body. But other than that, no one made a sound. "Right, the maid who sold the wine. You will report to the laundry hall. No jewelry. No hairpins. You speak to no one unless addressed, and you will not leave until your hands bleed soap. Am I clear?"

She burst into tears, but otherwise didn’t object. I guess she was smart enough to learn from the steward.

I ignored the tears as I continued on.

As for the two kitchen boys, I gave them one order: "You’re to serve the guards at the south gate until further notice. If they starve, you starve. If they drink, you pour. If I hear you’ve stolen again, I’ll let the dogs eat first."

The rest of the courtyard was silent.

But this time, it was the right kind of quiet.

Not skeptical.

Not curious.

Just afraid.

Good.

I stood.

"This isn’t a harem household. I’m not a soft mistress who forgets names and forgives theft. If you want favor, you won’t get it by being charming. You’ll get it by being useful."

I looked over them one by one. "There will be no trusted circle. No whispers. No favorites. Just work."

A few of them bowed.

The smarter ones didn’t stop.

I turned toward the hallway. "Everyone is dismissed. Except Qiao’er, and the third laundry maid from the left."

The girl I’d picked flinched.

I waved her forward.

"You’re good with silk," I said. "I can see it in your sleeves. You’re now my personal wardrobe attendant. Tell your supervisor I said so."

She blinked. "Yes, Your Highness."

"And Qiao’er."

"Yes?"

"If anyone touches you, threatens you, or speaks above your station... you tell me."

She nodded, stunned.

I turned to head inside.

Shi Yaozu hadn’t moved once through the entire affair. He just stood by the pillar near the edge of the courtyard, shadowed by the light.

But I knew he’d seen everything.

That was fine.

Let him report every word to Zhu Mingyu. Let him recite every punishment, every decision.

I wasn’t trying to hide.

I was sending a message.

The only difference between a ruler and a servant was how quickly people obeyed.

And now they knew: I wasn’t here to be obeyed.

I was here to be feared.