The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 103

Volumes 1-4 + Side Stories of DMS are available uncensored on ko-fi! ※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

The urge to hide it away, somewhere her eyes would never find it, had crossed his mind. But he’d stopped himself—how ridiculous would it be to grow so sensitive over a mere object?

Jealous of an inanimate thing?

Worried his reaction had seemed petty, he studied Jaha’s expression.

Contrary to his concerns, she showed no resentment at being stopped. She was a rational person who understood that one shouldn’t touch others’ belongings without permission. If anything, she was relieved—she’d nearly acted on impulse, lost in thought.

Watching her indifferent face, the Emperor suddenly voiced a rising impulse:

“If there’s anything you want, just tell me.”

He’d said it many times before. Since she never rejoices over what I give her, perhaps she’d be pleased if I granted her own wish instead.

Jaha had never responded. But this time might be different.

Maybe she’ll ask for the Heart of the Black Prince.

If she did, he’d give it to her. The displeasure of parting with it would be far outweighed by the joy of her finally asking him for something.

His pulse quickened as he stared at her lips. But they remained tightly sealed, unmoving. Disappointed, he tightened his grip on their interlaced fingers.

How long will this lukewarm stalemate last?

Held captive in his grasp, Jaha wondered the same.

Then, in an instant, catastrophe arrived—unexpected, and in a form neither could have foreseen.

◇ ◆ ◇

Jaha was sharing bread with Cedric in a secluded corner. The nameless loaf Cedric had brought tasted better than the extravagant feasts she ate daily in the palace.

It’s all made by the same imperial chefs—what’s the difference?

No, strictly speaking, the cooks preparing the Emperor’s meals should be even more skilled. Yet her tongue reacted more to this cold, palm-sized bread shared with Cedric than to the parade of ornate desserts served on silver platters.

Reluctant to finish the last bite, she took small, savoring nibbles.

Once, the same bread had appeared as a dessert during a meal with the Emperor—warm, beautifully plated. But she’d tasted nothing then. Only discomfort under the weight of his gaze, laden with unspoken hunger.

So this is how it was supposed to taste.

A smile bloomed across Jaha’s face.

“It’s good. Got any more?”

“That was the last one. Should we raid the palace kitchens?” Cedric joked.

Talking to Cedric made her feel as if she’d returned to Earth. He was like a senior from her university, and this—chatting between classes—felt like a fleeting, ordinary moment.

A painfully sweet delusion. That’s why these moments were so precious. The only escape from reality.

“Jaha, breadcrumb.”

Cedric tapped the corner of his own mouth to show her. She mirrored him, brushing her fingers along hers.

“Gone?”

“No, wait—”

His hand reached out. Jaha froze. Every nerve focused on the brief warmth of his fingertip grazing her skin. When she stiffened, Cedric hesitated too.

The air between them shifted, thickening with something unspoken.

Silence settled.

A lull in the conversation. Suddenly, Jaha found herself overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Cedric. It wasn’t so much a rational attraction as it was a curiosity—a need to know.

Would kissing Cedric be as sweet as a dream? Would it feel any different from what the Emperor did these days? Yet, she lacked the courage to lean in and press her lips to his.

Jaha had been a diligent student throughout her school years, entering university as a wide-eyed freshman. In short, she’d had little experience with men. Her only brushes with romance were childish, almost like make-believe games from her youth.

It was almost laughable how, after doing all sorts of things with the Emperor, she now fumbled like a fool—except in those moments, Jaha had neither will nor agency. In other words, she had never once attempted to kiss anyone herself. So instead, she timidly wished in her heart that Cedric would be the one to kiss her.

Did that desire somehow show on her face? Cedric’s gaze flickered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he watched her, as if measuring something. Then, with a look of resolve, he cupped her cheek and leaned in.

With every inch of distance closed, Jaha’s heart trembled with an inexplicable quiver. That brief moment stretched unbearably long.

Just before their lips met, Cedric was abruptly yanked away—as if someone had shoved him aside.

Startled, Jaha looked around. There was no one nearby. No one within arm’s reach… could have done it.

Her breath hitched. There truly was no one close enough to touch. But when she widened her gaze slightly, something—no, someone—who should never have been seen here came into view.