The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 122

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A record crystal?

Stored?

The Pope spoke up, voice faltering.

“Wh-What? What do you…?”

“As you know, I’ve grown quite fond of that woman. So much so that I attached a recording-type crystal to her clothing ornament—to keep track of her every move. Ah, lest you misunderstand, let me clarify: I didn’t do this intentionally before coming to the Temple. It’s just my obsessive nature; I’ve always lived this way. I simply forgot to remove it before arriving. It only just occurred to me now.”

The priests who had been involved in Jaha’s treatment turned deathly pale. The Pope, as the one ultimately responsible, grew so ashen his lips lost all color.

They’d been played.

No intention of mocking the Temple?

He just happened to keep a recording crystal on her clothes in daily life?

And he accidentally forgot to take it off before coming here?

Preposterous!

It was a loophole—an excuse to wriggle out of blasphemy charges. He couldn’t outright admit he’d prepared countermeasures because he distrusted the Temple.

No wonder he’d obediently waited outside earlier. They’d assumed his compliance was due to his submissive position as a petitioner, but it was all part of his scheme.

The Pope swiftly signaled a nearby holy knight with his eyes—Destroy the crystal. The knight, who had been closely monitoring the situation, caught the hint and immediately swung his sword.

A sharp blade surged toward Jaha. The target was the ornament on her clothing, but unavoidably, she would be cut down with it. If they hesitated to spare her, they might fail to shatter the crystal.

Eliminate the evidence first—they could deal with the fallout later. They could claim the witch had attempted dark sorcery, justifying her summary execution.

She was neither noble nor commoner—just a slave. Even the Emperor’s favor couldn’t change that. Injuring a slave only required compensating the owner according to the law. Nothing more.

The Emperor would be furious, of course—losing a treasured plaything he’d come to repair—but what could he really do about it?

The knight’s sword pierced diagonally through Jaha’s body—

—and at the same time, her form scattered like a lie.

“How strange, slashing at empty air.”

With a tilt of his head, as if genuinely puzzled, the Emperor now held Jaha in his arms, having wrapped her in his cloak. He rolled the retrieved crystal between his fingers with deliberate provocation.

“There was no need to go so far just to entertain me.”

The holy knight, belatedly understanding the implication, flushed red. In an instant, he had been reduced to a court jester performing for the Emperor’s amusement.

The Pope bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. That silver tongue was calamitous enough, but the real problem was the crystal now in the Emperor’s possession. By coaxing or coercion, it had to be reclaimed.

“Y-Your Majesty, if we might speak privately—”

“Playback.”

Without hesitation, the Emperor uttered the activation phrase.

The crystal’s recorded images materialized in the air.

Every moment since Jaha had stepped into the Temple replayed in vivid detail: the priests stripping and mocking her, their failed attempt at healing, their conspiracy to frame her as a witch—all of it, down to the last whisper. Conspicuously absent was any scene of them using a sacred relic to determine her guilt.

The Pope turned his face away, unable to bear the sight of the Temple’s shame exposed before the world.

Priests were bound by vows of chastity, forbidden from carnal relations—yet every rule had its loopholes. The scriptures defined purity narrowly: the joining of flesh in that specific manner was prohibited, but other means of sating desire were tacitly permitted. Today, that hypocrisy had been laid bare.

But embarrassment soon gave way to humiliation and rage.

Was this really necessary?

It was just a slave—just a bit of petty cruelty. Couldn’t he have let it slide?

Did he have to go this far—against the Temple, of all places?

The moment the crystal fell into the Emperor’s hands, their defeat was already decided. The Emperor knew this full well. So why not move to a private chamber and negotiate discreetly? The Temple could have saved face, the Emperor could have gained concessions—everyone would have won.

Yet the Emperor chose public humiliation.

Though its influence had waned in recent years, the Paltian Church remained the continent’s foremost religious power. There was a time when even imperial monarchs bowed their heads to the Pope. And now, because of a mere slave, he had been subjected to this disgrace? By principle, they were in the wrong—but this was an imbalance of consequences.