The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 127

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.

Even the expression ‘twisting a child’s wrist’ would be inadequate. I was just like paper—a paper doll.

The pain she’d felt in her neck disappeared. The Emperor’s fingertips were wrapped in white light. Without even needing to touch it, she could tell the flowing blood had stopped and her neck had become perfectly clean.

Again.

Again, it was taken away from me.

“Why… are you doing this?”

The Emperor asked with a damp voice.

“Just… why?”

The Emperor took her hand—the one that had been gripping the fork just moments ago, so much smaller than his own—and clasped it between both of his. As if pleading with some distant, unreachable being.

No—he truly was begging, from the depths of his heart. He would have knelt, groveled, done anything if it meant he could stop Jaha.

“If you’re so angry you can’t bear it, then stab me instead. Hm?”

Meeting Jaha’s inscrutable gaze, he coaxed her with the suggestion.

“Don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

He meant it. At some point, without even realizing when it had happened, the Emperor had come to find Jaha’s pain more unbearable than his own.

Every time something happened to her, his breath caught and his heart felt like it might stop. Watching Jaha teeter between life and death made him feel like he would die first.

He knew Jaha hated him. So he wanted her to stop this pointless self-harm and instead direct all her rage at him—the true culprit.

He was prepared to pay for all his past sins.

He could endure it, however much it took—until Jaha’s anger was spent.

Even if the pain she inflicted on him surpassed what he had done to her—

Even if it was twice, ten times, a hundred times over—

He would wait. Until Jaha could forgive him.

There is no bottomless well. Even deep hatred will eventually dry up if you keep drawing from it. Until that day comes, he resolved to endure. His body was strong and his will stubborn—there was nothing he couldn’t withstand.

Seeing his desperate gaze, Jaha let out a hollow laugh. Those purple eyes drunk on their own fervor, the faint expectation lurking within them—all equally pathetic.

Who gave you the right?

Don’t even dream.

Jaha had endured every humiliation and clung stubbornly to life only because she had the goal of returning to Earth. It was for the hope of going back to her original world. Now that it was gone, there was no reason to endure this nightmare any longer.

Shaking off his hand, Jaha slammed her head with full force against the corner of the chair’s backrest.

“Jaha!”

The Emperor roared like a beast and grabbed her as she tried to smash her head against the corner again. Overwhelmed by his superior strength, Jaha was once again denied her freedom.

Warm light enveloped her head.

As always, the Emperor’s magic would erase all traces as if nothing had happened. It would undo Jaha’s resolve, her efforts—all her free will would come to nothing.

Jaha stared silently at the man who had stolen everything from her and now sought to take even her last remaining freedom.

There was a time when she couldn’t bear it, when she wanted to kill this man so badly. How many nights had she lain awake, boiling with murderous intent?

The Jaha of that time might have eagerly stabbed him all over the moment he offered. But now, she didn’t even have the energy left for that.

A fire needs something to burn to keep going. Jaha didn’t even have that left.

Everything had turned to ashes.

Telling her to hate the Emperor again now was no different from violence.

To live fueled by hatred?

To endure this world, choking it down, just for revenge?

Why should I?

For whom?

Jaha just wanted peace. She wanted to end it all—like deleting an entire game save she didn’t like. How nice would it be if human life could be erased with the press of a button? But since she couldn’t, she had to suffer through this.

The Emperor was no longer her concern. He was nothing more than an irritating obstacle, always getting in the way of what she wanted.

The Emperor, trembling like an aspen tree, slowly crumbled to his knees and collapsed onto the floor. He buried his face in the hem of Jaha’s skirt as she sat in her chair, silently shedding tears. Feeling the fabric grow damp where his face touched, Jaha let out a quiet sigh.

She had said there was no strength left to hate, but to be precise, she simply had no energy left to express it. It wasn’t that her hatred for the Emperor had vanished completely, as if washed away. That’s why, faced with a situation like this, irritation quietly flared up.