The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 173

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.

“It’s fine.”

It was him who broke the silence.

“Even so… it’s fine.”

His arms wrapped around her cautiously as he murmured the words. Jaha couldn’t bring herself to ask what was fine—not when his voice, however slight, trembled.

When Rikanan willed himself to be composed, he was immaculate, almost aristocratic. Sitting straight-backed in tailored clothes, he seemed like a being from above the clouds. It was hard to believe this was the same man who, just last night, had driven into Jaha until her legs gave out, leaving her too weak to even clench around him.

“Hhng—p-please, nngh—st-stop…”

“If you want me to stop, you shouldn’t cry so prettily, Jaha.”

Remembering it now, Jaha pouted.

“Total fraud.”

“What was that?”

Setting down his teacup, he tilted his head slightly. Speak of the devil. He must’ve sensed she was talking about him.

“Just talking to myself.”

She replied tartly and took a bite of dessert. It was annoying how pristine he looked, as if nothing had happened, while she still felt stretched open. Not that she actually minded. How could she?

She liked him. The faint, unique scent that clung to him when she nestled close. The way his long eyes sometimes narrowed with a sly smile. And—he liked her too.

You don’t need razor-sharp intellect to know whether someone likes you or not. Even animals can instinctively tell who cares for them and who doesn’t. It’s something you just feel.

When I looked into his eyes, I understood what it meant to be loved.

When his large, gentle hands touched me, I understood what it meant to be treasured.

He liked me more than any man who’d ever shown interest in me before—more than all of them combined. So much that it was almost unbelievable. How could someone love a stranger this deeply? His feelings for me were beyond anything I could compare, even to my own for him.

It was like a dream. The person I loved loved me back—more than I loved him. It couldn’t be more perfect. So I should be happy. I had to be happy. And yet…

Jaha hid her trembling fingertips in her palms.

‘Again.’

Another inexplicable chill swept over her.

She’d lost count of how many times this had happened. The room wasn’t cold, yet lately, she’d been shuddering like this at least once or twice a day.

Her nightmares had also grown more frequent. She couldn’t remember their contents—only the crushing misery and suffocating pressure in her chest upon waking.

At first, she wondered if exhaustion was the cause. But when she thought about it, her physical condition was actually better here than it had been back on Earth. Back then, she’d drag herself out of bed, slog through endless workdays, eat mediocre meals at the office cafeteria or nearby restaurants, then collapse into bed too tired to do anything else.

Here? Her “work” consisted of sipping tea and talking with Rikanan. The quality of food was beyond comparison.

Even studying, which had once required sleepless nights to grasp, now came effortlessly—as if she were simply recalling things she’d already learned. By all accounts, her health should’ve improved, not deteriorated.

‘…Is it because of how often we’re intimate?’

She shook her head. Sure, he pushed her to her limits—relentlessly—until she was overwhelmed. But that didn’t seem like the answer. No matter how exhausted she was, she recovered quickly, and her body never felt truly damaged.

‘Then is it psychological?’

Was this what they called “fear of happiness”? The anxiety that something this good would inevitably shatter, making her preemptively brace for loss?

‘…No. This feels different somehow. Ugh, how would I know? I’m not Freud or a psychiatrist.’

Jaha gave up trying to figure it out. Maybe she was overanalyzing something trivial. Perhaps she just wanted to escape the fear that these chills and nightly nightmares were some kind of primal warning—an instinct screaming at her.

“Jaha.”

At the sound of his gentle voice, she looked up to see Rikanan with his arms outstretched. The message was clear: Come here.

“If I go over, you’ll just do something weird again, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t.”

He gave her a deliberately pitiful look, his eyes drooping like a wronged puppy.

“I told you—I won’t do anything you dislike.”

“And then you’ll turn around and say, ‘Your body’s enjoying it, so you don’t really hate it,’ and pull some nonsense.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Jaha studied him, gauging his sincerity, before suddenly spreading her own arms wide.

“Fine. You come here.”

Who said she had to be the one to go to him? He could come to her instead.

When she stared at him defiantly, Rikanan’s lips quirked before he obediently stood and closed the distance between them. Kneeling to match her eye level, he then folded his large frame awkwardly, burying himself into her much smaller embrace.

…Did I make a mistake?

As she struggled to contain his massive body within her arms, regret began to creep in.

“This is nice.”