The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 153

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.

Tears streamed down Jaha’s cheek. Her head throbbed as if it might split open—an agonizing pain, as though someone had driven a blade into her brain.

“Ugh…”

Slumped over the table, Jaha lost consciousness just like that.

A dull headache made her brow furrow involuntarily.

“Jaha. Are you awake?”

Groaning faintly, Jaha slowly opened her eyes at the sound of her name. An astonishingly handsome man came into view.

“You were found collapsed in the same place as Madame Marie. What happened?”

Rikanan’s voice questioned her. Jaha noticed his complexion looked terribly off—not enough to mar his beauty, but noticeably pale. Seeing him worry over her more than necessary made her own heart sink.

“It’s nothing. After Madame Marie left, I was resting alone when… suddenly, a terrible headache hit me.”

“A headache? Do you have a chronic condition?”

Jaha swiftly denied it as she saw his forget-me-not blue eyes waver.

“No. I may not have much stamina, but I don’t have any particular illnesses. You don’t need to worry.”

“If you’re not ill, why did you collapse?”

“I’m not sure. This has never happened before. But I’m fine now.”

“Is your head completely better, then?”

“It’s still a little heavy, but I’m alright.”

Compared to the terrifying pain from earlier, this was nothing—maybe just a slight throbbing, like when you’ve stared at a screen too long.

Rikanan fell silent for a moment before speaking again.

“You should get examined by a physician.”

“It’s not that serious.”

“Please, Jaha.”

She was about to refuse but stopped. His hands were trembling slightly.

His voice sounded strangely urgent, his face pale. For some reason, he seemed afraid—like someone haunted by trauma.

“Alright.”

The physician examined Jaha’s condition with extreme care, as if handling a test where even the slightest mistake was unacceptable. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he conducted the diagnosis, but in the end, his conclusion was simple: there was nothing particularly wrong. Only then did Rikanan regain some color in his face.

“That’s a relief.”

Before Jaha could even nod in agreement, he added quietly,

“Really… a relief.”

“I’m healthy,” Jaha blurted out impulsively. Seeing him like this—still pale, restless, and uneasy—she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She wanted to reassure him, this man who seemed so anxious over something so small.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to die from something like this.”

At that moment, Rikanan looked at Jaha. Though he stood taller, his gaze was that of a devotee beholding a deity—like a priest receiving divine revelation, his eyes alight with fervor.

What she had said half in jest now overwhelmed her with its inexplicable intensity, leaving her frozen.

“Yes.”

The golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty smiled so dazzlingly it could steal one’s soul.

“Understood, Jaha.”

Without realizing it, Jaha reached out toward his face. He obligingly bent down, pressing his cheek into her palm with an almost coy nuzzle.

Flustered yet electrified by the gesture, she felt a strange thrill shoot down her spine.

It was like the satisfaction of taming a dangerous beast—or the exhilaration of subduing a cruel, monstrous creature veiled in beauty.

Logically, Rikanan was neither beast nor monster, yet the comparison lingered.

Then, soft lips brushed against her palm. The tender, cautious touch wasn’t unpleasant.

So much for her resolution not to recklessly cross into romance with him. Helpless, Jaha tilted her head, closed her eyes, and slowly leaned in. His face, still cupped in her hand, stiffened momentarily before surging forward.

Her abandoned hand, left hovering in the air, was seized by a larger, firmer one and pressed downward. Their entwined fingers sank into the bed as his gloved hand—long, elegant fingers—parted hers one by one, weaving through the gaps. Her small hand trembled.

“Hnn—”

A moan slipped out the moment their lips parted even slightly. Before Jaha could regain her composure, Rikanan’s mouth was on hers again—as if what came before had only been a prelude. His hand cradled the back of her head as he climbed onto the bed with a single stride.

The mattress dipped under the weight of his tall frame. Now fully pinned beneath him, Jaha shuddered as his tongue delved deeper, more deliberate this time.

Trapped between his knees, she squirmed helplessly. She couldn’t stay still.

Her back arched, her hips twisting restlessly. Heat rushed to her head, dizzying her. Her entire body felt like it was melting—this sensation was entirely new.

‘What were all the kisses I’ve had until now?’

This wasn’t the kind of kissing Jaha knew. To her, kissing had always been just a slightly strange, mildly intimate act—something done only with a partner, involving tongues and mingling saliva, but nothing earth-shattering. She’d never derived any real pleasure from it.

But now?

Electric jolts raced down her spine, her stomach fluttering wildly. Between her legs, untouched yet throbbing, grew damp. It felt like her brain was being sucked out.

Is this what a kiss better than s*x feels like?

She used to think that was nonsense. No matter how skilled someone was, at its core, kissing was just tongues tangling—how could it possibly feel this good? How could mere kisses threaten to unravel her completely?