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.

V.

“Which one of these do you like the most?”

Jaha was bewildered as she looked at the rolling racks filling the room and the extravagant clothes hanging from them. Even when she tried to roughly count them, there seemed to be no end. And as if that weren’t enough, servants were still wheeling in more racks through the open door.

“What in the world…?”

“They’re yours. All of them. If there’s a particular outfit you like, I’ll have more made in a similar style, so speak up.”

The Emperor, lounging on the couch, spoke leisurely. Jaha, overwhelmed by the sheer volume, didn’t even have the will to inspect them one by one.

Forget choosing a favorite—would she even be able to wear all these clothes in her lifetime?

And that wasn’t all. Jewels, accessories, shoes—he showed her an endless array of them. The Emperor said they all belonged to her now.

Jaha didn’t understand.

Had this man suddenly eaten something strange?

Or was this some cruel joke?

Considering his past behavior, the latter seemed far more likely. She wondered what kind of humiliation he was planning to inflict on her by going this far.

But the Emperor’s antics didn’t end there. When mealtime came, he ordered the servants to bring out dish after dish, insisting they eat together. Before Jaha—who had been surviving on the rations given to slaves—was now a full-course meal.

“Eat.”

Fortunately, thanks to the etiquette training she had received from her former master, Baron Palga, who had promised to free her from slavery, Jaha knew basic table manners. Still, she hesitated to reach for the food.

What did he put in it?

Poison?

A slow-acting d**g?

Or maybe… a fast-acting aphrodisiac?

The Emperor had a habit of humiliating Jaha.

There had been that one time he slipped her something, and she lost all reason, becoming a slave to her desires—doing things so shameful she couldn’t bear to remember them. It wouldn’t have been strange if the Emperor had dosed her again, just to see her in that state once more.

Watching Jaha hesitate, too suspicious to begin eating, the Emperor frowned.

“I see it doesn’t suit your taste. Should I have it thrown out and replaced with something else?”

At that, Jaha picked up her utensils. If the Emperor was determined, she’d have to eat it one way or another. Resisting would only waste food for no reason.

“No. I will eat it gratefully.”

Imagining herself turning into a lust-crazed beast, Jaha reluctantly brought the food to her mouth. But even after swallowing, she felt no unusual effects.

Was it slow-acting?

Only after forcing down a few more bites did she conclude that perhaps—just perhaps—this was simply food, untouched by any trickery. Unbelievable as it was, the Emperor had given her an ordinary meal.

What had gotten into him…?

Jaha’s brow twitched slightly.

The food was tender, almost melting on her tongue. The temperature was perfect, and surely the seasoning was flawless—it was prepared by the imperial chef, after all. Yet it felt like chewing sand.

Now she understood why people said meals should be shared with those you’re comfortable around.

With the Emperor watching, she felt like she might choke. She couldn’t even taste it properly.

The bread she’d eaten with Cedric had been so delicious, though.

“What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?”

The Emperor’s sharp eyes narrowed. Jaha knew that if she answered “Yes,” the innocent chefs would bear the brunt of his anger, so she denied it.

“No.”

“But why does your expression look so…”

His trailing words were barely audible—more like a murmur to himself.

Jaha decided there was no need to pay attention if he wasn’t speaking for her to hear and mechanically continued eating.

The Emperor abruptly asked, as if tossing out the question carelessly:

“What kind of food do you like?”

Tteokbokki, fried chicken, ramen—anything spicy, really. And anything with cheese.

“I’m not sure. I’m not familiar with the food here…”

Pushing aside the thoughts surfacing in her mind, Jaha answered flatly. After all, in front of the Emperor, it didn’t matter what she ate—it would all taste the same.

The Emperor frowned slightly, displeased, then finally spoke.

“Then I’ll have different dishes prepared for you every day. Try them and see which suits your taste best.”

“Understood.”

Looking at Jaha’s indifferent face, the Emperor felt an inexplicable frustration.

She didn’t seem the slightest bit pleased. Even with the finest delicacies laid out before her.

Was she simply the type who didn’t care about food?

One of those people who thought flavor didn’t matter as long as it filled her stomach?

He had specifically instructed the kitchen to pay extra attention, and even by his standards, the results were quite exceptional. He hadn’t expected her to gush with tearful gratitude, but this dry, indifferent reaction was beyond his expectations.