The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 128

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.

How long would they have to keep up this meaningless struggle?

Though reluctant, Jaha reached the conclusion that she needed to talk to the Emperor at least once.

“Why do you stop me?”

The first proper sentence she had spoken in a long time sounded unfamiliar even to her own ears. Let alone to the Emperor. Startled, he lifted his head—his face clearly etched with disbelief.

Jaha forced her stiff tongue to move, speaking more naturally and firmly than before.

“Don’t get in my way.”

The Emperor wondered if this was a dream or reality. Aside from the habitual, pleasure-seeking words she had uttered reflexively, it had been far too long since Jaha had willingly spoken to him—since she had said anything meaningful. It felt so distant that he even doubted whether such a time had truly existed.

He struggled to suppress his uncontrollable trembling and reached out to Jaha. His quivering fingertips hovered in the air, just short of touching her cheek, unable to bridge the gap.

“J-Jaha.”

There were so many things he wanted to say, but none came easily. He didn’t want to make another mistake with her. Now that he understood that once spoken, words could never be taken back, fear stiffened his tongue.

He hadn’t known he could be such a coward. He, who had feared nothing in this world—not the swords and spears aimed at his life, not the savage monsters, nothing—had never known the grip of terror.

Those things still didn’t frighten him. What terrified him now were the words and actions already lost to time.

If he could, he would carve them all out.

Looking back, there was nothing but regret.

“I know… I have wronged you far too much.”

He was too ashamed to even ask for forgiveness. But right now, he had to stop Jaha somehow.

“I’ll do as you say. Tell me what I should do. How can I ease your heart, even a little? Please, tell me.”

Jaha silently looked down at the Emperor.

She knew his remorse, his emotions, were genuine.

She had watched it all from beside him—how he would treat her kindly one day, then rage the next, then clutch his chest in self-loathing and sob, only to later beg in regret. His erratic, pitiful state could only be described as losing his mind.

It was a different kind of hell from what she had endured. But what did it matter if he suffered?

“Can you catch an arrow once it’s left the bowstring?”

After posing the question, it suddenly occurred to her that magic existed in this world, so perhaps it was possible—but Jaha trusted this man wasn’t foolish enough to miss her meaning.

Meeting his wavering violet eyes, she added flatly:

“Unless the clock turns back and everything I’ve endured is erased as if it never happened, my heart won’t change.”

The Emperor’s face paled. This was Jaha declaring, outright, that she would never forgive him.

How could time that had already passed be reversed? He had never heard of such a method—had no reason to believe it even existed.

He had resolved to endure anything Jaha did to him. To let her pour out her hatred until the well of it ran dry. But even that was only possible if she was willing to pour it out in the first place. If she gave him the chance.

The realization drenched his back in cold sweat.

Why had he assumed the chance would be given so easily?

Why had he taken it for granted—

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, and in a trembling voice, commanded:

“Surveil Jaha. If necessary, bind her limbs—restrain her. Do not leave her side for even a moment. Stop her from harming herself.”

With official permission granted, the maids bound Jaha’s hands. Several of them swarmed her, gripping her arms and legs, leaving her no room for proper resistance before she was fully restrained.

Jaha’s gaze locked onto the Emperor.

He couldn’t meet her eyes. He turned his head away.

She didn’t feel particularly betrayed.

After all, she had never trusted him enough to feel betrayed.

She was just tired.

How much longer must this pointless battle go on?

From that day on, even the minimal freedom Jaha had left vanished.

When she went to the bathroom, at least two maids accompanied her. Knights stood guard outside the door, ready to burst in at the slightest disturbance.

Anything that could remotely be turned into a weapon was forbidden. Even utensils were prohibited, forcing her to be fed by others during meals.

Having no desire to live, Jaha naturally refused to eat. The maids, authorized to restrain her physically, pinned her limbs down, gripped her face, and forced food into her mouth. They, too, were desperate—for their own survival.