The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Side Story 1.3

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.

Killing an innocent slave violated his personal code—not out of respect for life or protection of the weak, but because indiscriminate slaughter was poor governance. Even a Crown Prince needed standards, lest he find himself ruling over a kingdom of headless corpses.

Was that slave special enough to break his rules for?

His flawless brow furrowed beneath gilded hair.

“Hmph.”

Even if “Jaha” or whatever stripped naked and danced before him, he wouldn’t bat an eye. She posed no threat—so long as he kept her far away.

‘When punishing the Palga family, I’ll emancipate their slaves. That should keep her out of the palace.’

Having decided Jaha’s fate, the Crown Prince closed his eyes briefly in his chair. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he sensed someone entering his chambers. Lifting his eyelids, his gaze fell upon a woman with long, scarlet hair cascading down her back.

“I pay my respects to Your Highness.”

Kneeling on the floor, the woman’s face bloomed with a bewitching smile. He knew exactly who she was.

Larissa Basset. A courtesan currently making waves in the capital.

Ever since they’d crossed paths at a banquet, she hadn’t bothered hiding her desire for him. At first, she tried subtle schemes to lure him in, but when that failed, she shamelessly offered herself outright—pleading for just one night in his arms.

Did she just want the prestige of being the Crown Prince’s first? Or did she truly believe she could ensnare him and secure a place as his mistress?

‘Probably both.’

A woman of many ambitions. No doubt she dreamed of trapping him between her thighs and wielding power through him.

He had grown so weary of her persistent advances that tonight, he’d allowed her into his chambers. Fine. One night, as she wished—then she’d leave him alone.

Staring down at Larissa’s flushed, eager face, he sifted through the Emperor’s memories.

His future self had slept with her. It had been his first time. Though he found her repulsive, the physical experience itself hadn’t been unpleasant. Larissa’s reputation among noblemen was built on her sensual body and skill in bed, after all.

Of course, Larissa hadn’t been satisfied with just one night. She’d schemed relentlessly to drag him back into her bed, eventually crossing a line and getting herself banished from the capital.

So, if the Emperor hadn’t reversed time… this woman would have been his first.

‘Wait.’

A sudden realization struck him.

This was why.

The Emperor hadn’t turned back time by a year or two—but by over a decade. He had specifically chosen this moment as the starting point.

Could it be…?

‘To preserve his… purity?’

Instinctively, he recalled when he was supposed to first meet Jaha.

Over ten years from now.

‘So he expects me to stay celibate until then?’

Is this bastard insane?

‘He indulged in everything he wanted—and now I’m supposed to abstain?’

The seventeen-year-old Crown Prince was furious. Having witnessed the Emperor’s decadent history with women firsthand through his memories, he couldn’t fathom why he had to restrain himself. At the peak of his youth, no less.

‘Why should I?’

Who gave him the right?

Seized by defiance, he rose from his chair.

He would sleep with Larissa Basset. If only to trample the Emperor’s absurd plan into the dirt.

His future self was clearly deranged. Then again, obsessing over a slave’s words and rewriting time wasn’t the act of a sane man to begin with.

Using magic, he lifted Larissa onto the bed and positioned himself over her. Her dazed, hungry eyes drank him in as he brushed a gloved hand along her cheek—testing, like a man sampling a dish before a meal. Her skin was soft, unmistakably feminine.

Just as the Emperor’s memories suggested, it wasn’t unpleasant. His fingers trailed downward.

Her slender neck, delicate shoulders, elegant collarbones, full chest—

Then, unease crept in.

Her body was flawless, yet he found himself searching for something wrong. Not different, but wrong.

The fact that she felt wrong meant he already had an answer in mind. And that answer was a slave with black hair and black eyes.

“Ahh… Your Highness…”

He withdrew his hand.

Larissa blinked up at him in confusion. Irritation flared, and he snapped:

“Get out.”

“Your Highness?”

He stepped off the bed and returned to his chair. Larissa scrambled after him, her disheveled clothes forgotten.

“Why—”

“I considered humoring you, but it’s no use. I can’t do it.”

Her face flushed crimson, whether from humiliation or fury. Yet she quickly schooled her expression, sinking to her knees between his legs.

“Then let me serve you with my mouth first, Your Highness.”

The woman boldly tugged at his waistband, pulling it down—then gasped at the sight of his arousal. Her face flushed with rapture as she gripped him with both hands, lips parting to take him in—

“I said get out.”

A gloved hand pressed against her forehead, shoving her back.

“But—Your Highness would surely enjoy my service! I promise, I’ll take every inch, even if it’s my first time with something so…”

“Did I not teach you what happens when you touch me without permission?” His voice was lethally soft. “Must I remind you personally?”

Larissa Basset’s blood ran cold.

Not long ago, when she had “accidentally” pressed herself against him, he had severed both her hands for daring to lay a finger on royalty without consent.

“Mercy is granted only once, Larissa Basset.”

Afterwards, he restored them with magic, leaving no trace of the severing, but the excruciating pain and terror she experienced remained seared into her soul.