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.

XIV.

The floor was covered in intricate geometric patterns.

A crimson magic circle, as if drawn in blood.

Fingers curled one by one, a hand carefully placing something into her palm.

“Here.”

Eyes, violet like a dam about to burst—just a touch away from spilling over with pent-up emotions.

“I’m sorry.”

A voice stained with regret. Then, after a hesitant pause, a whisper, almost shameless:

“I… loved you. Even if it wasn’t love to you—to me, it was.”

A blade piercing through a broad chest. As if signaling the beginning, countless swords tore into firm flesh.

The Emperor, drenched in deepening red. Meanwhile, her own body grew increasingly transparent.

Blades, cold and relentless, surged toward her. The warmth of a body shielding mine. A hot breath against the nape of her neck. A large hand cradling the back of her head before slipping weakly away.

Then—the world flipped upside down.

◇ ◆ ◇

Yoo Jaha’s eyes flew open, her hand pressed to her chest. Her heart was pounding wildly.

For a while, she just lay there, dazed. Maybe “shell-shocked” was the right word—overwhelmed by the dream, intoxicated by its atmosphere.

Her emotions were a mess. Over nothing but a dream.

No, it must have been something that really happened—likely an event from when she first arrived in this world. Still, it was just a past long gone, yet it weighed on her with more intensity than reality itself.

The flow of the air, the gaze, the warmth that had enveloped her body, the sensation of touch—

All of it was terrifyingly vivid.

The lingering sensations disturbed her nerves, even making her question whether this was the dream world and the dream she just had was reality. It bound her mind, refusing to let her escape.

Trapped, Jaha could only think of the man from the dream.

The one who apologized, confessed, and took the blade for her.

That man was the Emperor.

His words, his gaze, his actions swirled endlessly in her mind.

“I… loved you. Even if it wasn’t love to you—to me, it was.”

“Lies.”

It couldn’t be real.

There was no such thing as love like that.

After endless humiliation and degradation, how dare he call it love? If that were love, then violence would be a caress, and abuse would be lovers’ whispers.

And yet—his eyes had looked so painfully sincere, his voice so thick with regret that it hurt just to listen. For a moment, she almost believed him.

Had she not read <The Imperial Chronicles,> she might have fallen for it.

But Jaha knew how that man’s story ended.

A man with more than ten illegitimate children.

So many women that he couldn’t even remember them all.

“Love? What a joke.”

The Emperor recorded in <The Imperial Chronicles> was nothing short of a womanizer. He took concubines as easily as breathing, and when that wasn’t enough, he reached beyond borders for more. A man who had ever truly loved someone wouldn’t have lived like that.

It was just lust.

Curiosity.

The greed of a collector.

A conqueror’s hunger.

A predator’s appetite.

That man knew nothing of love. For him to even speak of it was blasphemy. The words she heard in her dream were nothing but lies.

Her mood plummeted. She felt played.

It wasn’t that she had any lingering affection for him—Jaha was furious at herself for nearly falling for it. She couldn’t forgive her own momentary weakness, the way his emotions in the dream had briefly overwhelmed her, making her waver with a “Could it be…?”

After everything he’d done, how could she have been swayed by smooth words and grand gestures? Even someone scammed into buying a “magic” jade slab by a pyramid scheme salesman would’ve been smarter.

The more she dwelled on it, the more an indescribable fury piled up in her chest.

“With what audacity does he dare babble about love?”

A word he had no right to even utter.

“That bastard.”

It was shaping up to be a foul day from the very start.

She had been taught to rid herself of negative emotions as quickly as possible. But if the world worked the way it should, Jaha would have been living a far better life by now.

Strangely, her mood didn’t improve as time passed. If anything, the irritation only grew. By now, she had reached the stage where she was itching for an excuse to snap—ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

And right then, a servant made a mistake.

Seizing the opportunity, Jaha twisted her face in anger, ready to explode—only to barely restrain herself at the last moment, realizing how wrong it would be to take it out on someone undeserving.

Fury, with nowhere to go, seethed in her chest.

“Ha.”

With a rough sigh, she dragged her palms down her face. If she stayed like this, she’d end up taking it out on the wrong person.