The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 149

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.

Rikanan shook a small bell, and servants promptly appeared to clear the fallen food, shattered dishes, and scattered debris from the carpet.

Jaha never did ask for the translation ring back.

That night, Jaha was tormented by a vicious nightmare. She dreamed of being chased by a massive, savage beast.

Unlike fragile human Jaha, the creature possessed powerful limbs, monstrous stamina that never waned, and razor-sharp teeth capable of crushing her bones without hesitation. Its demonic violet eyes flashed relentlessly as it pursued her.

No matter how desperately she ran, the distance between them only narrowed—never grew. The despair of it.

No trick or effort could shake it. The difference in their strength was cruel, absolute.

Her instincts knew:

In the end, I’ll become this beast’s prey.

I’ll be torn apart until not even a trace remains.

Her legs burned as if they might rip apart, her lungs ready to burst. The last shred of rationality in her fear-clouded mind whispered:

You can’t escape it. Struggling will only prolong the agony.

Finally, a shadow loomed over her. Hot breath spilled across the back of her neck.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down Jaha’s face.

No. I don’t want to be caught.

Hurting me, breaking me—once was already enough.

Please, just let me go…

“Hngh…”

Rikanan gazed down at Jaha as she whimpered in her sleep, his expression unreadable. With a glance, he silently dismissed the maidservant holding the lamp. The woman retreated without a sound, leaving only the two of them in the darkened bedroom.

The absence of light posed no hindrance to him. His heightened senses allowed him to perceive everything as clearly as if it were day.

Slowly, he peeled off his white glove by tugging at the fingertip. The shape ruined—not that it mattered. He never reused gloves once worn.

In the darkness, the silhouette of his bare hand was long and elegant. He reached toward the sleeping girl, hovering just above her tear-stained cheek—close enough to savor the illusion of holding her, but not enough to risk waking her.

“Crying won’t change anything.”

His murmur settled over the bed like a weight.

“No matter what, I won’t let you go.”

His blue eyes, fixated on her trembling form, burned with possessiveness. As if even a single moment of her was too precious to miss.

Had Jaha been conscious—had she seen the hunger in that gaze—she would’ve recognized it instantly: the same ravenous glint from the beast in her nightmare.

But unlike the uncontrolled creature of dreams, the real predator restrained himself. With deliberate care, he withdrew his hand.

This hunt could not afford mistakes.

“Patiently… without rushing. Until it’s certain…”

A reminder to himself.

For a long time, he watched her—utterly vulnerable, utterly his.

◇ ◆ ◇

Teatime stretched nearly twice as long due to Jaha’s clumsy Imperial tongue. Rikanan never complained, but as someone living under his roof, she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious.

“Wouldn’t it be better to use the translation ring during tea?”

“To master a language, you must practice actual conversation,” he replied.

An irrefutable point—if this were a language lesson and not… whatever it was.

“I don’t mind, but you must find my fumbling frustrating. It takes so much longer.”

“I told you,” said the dazzlingly handsome man, lips curving. “I’m not busy.”

Jaha remembered his claim that he worked only because he had nothing else to do. Yet she couldn’t tell if that was courtesy or sincerity. No—the real question gnawing at her was deeper.

‘Why is he going this far for me?’

A lavish home, fine clothes, exquisite meals? She could dismiss that as the whims of overflowing wealth. Generosity from bottomless coffers. Shielding her with his body? Chivalry’s baseline. But time—that defied explanation.

Time was the one resource no power or fortune could replace. Even the richest couldn’t stretch twenty-four hours to twenty-five. That made it priceless.

The wealthier and more powerful, the more astronomically valuable one’s time became. The poor traded hours for pennies; the privileged wouldn’t sell theirs for gold. Yet this man gave his freely—to her.

How was she supposed to interpret that?

Frankly, this unsettled her more than overhearing him moan her name.

Physical urges required no emotional investment. A glimpse of cleavage, the curve of hips bent just so—any trivial trigger could spark arousal, as she’d felt toward Rikanan herself. But time? That wasn’t impulse. It was deliberate. It meant care.

No, ‘liking’ is too broad of a term.

This man was interested in a woman named Yoo Jaha.

The amount of time he invested made it seem like more than just a desire to sleep with her once. If a single night was his goal, he should’ve made his move much sooner. Yet this man remained consistently polite.

He only touched her when unavoidable, keeping it just enough to not feel burdensome. Though he didn’t hide his goodwill toward Jaha, he never resorted to cheap tricks either. As if he was preparing for a long game.

Jaha found it puzzling why this man was putting so much effort into her. To be precise, she couldn’t comprehend why he had fallen for her to this extent.