Chapter 181
“Take care of her, Madame.”
“As if there were any other option.”
Madame Marie responded with an almost reverential deference.
Even after leaving the estate, her overly polite demeanor remained unnerving, as if she were escorting someone of far higher status. Jaha, baffled by the inexplicable shift, grew increasingly uneasy.
‘Is it because of the ring?’
The thought crossed her mind, and she glanced at the band on her finger. But with eyes that couldn’t even distinguish pure gold from fool’s gold, all she could discern was its exquisite craftsmanship.
‘Rikanan said it’s just some trivial proof of identity.’
Of course, “trivial” was relative. What might be a staggering fortune to one person could be pocket change to another.
The questions she’d submerged resurfaced.
What exactly is Rikanan?
She still didn’t know his title, his occupation—not even his full name. It wasn’t that she lacked curiosity. Strangely, she just didn’t want to ask.
It wasn’t the usual hope that he’d volunteer the information unprompted.
Jaha’s patience had never been remarkable enough to wait for others to speak first. Even in past relationships, if she wanted to know something, she’d ask outright. She’d never lingered on “They’ll tell me eventually.” This was different—more contradictory, more tangled.
How to put it? She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to dig deeper.
It was like fearing that opening a box would unleash a grotesque spring-loaded puppet, something lurking inside that would startle her heart into freefall. The curiosity was there, but her fingers refused to lift the lid.
‘What if I open it and find myself face-to-face with something I can’t handle…?’
Jaha pressed her fingers firmly against her temples, which had begun to throb.
She felt sorry toward Rikanan.
For some reason, whenever it came to matters involving him, she always assumed the worst possible scenarios. She never considered positive possibilities, only the most extreme situations each time. As if he had once committed some grave wrong against her.
She hadn’t been like this in past relationships – why was she acting this way now? Like a paranoid patient, she couldn’t stop distrusting him.
Before she could sort through her tangled thoughts, the carriage stopped.
“From this point onward, it’s difficult to proceed by carriage, so I’m afraid you’ll have to disembark here,” the coachman said apologetically.
Jaha stepped out of the carriage with Madame Marie. Unlike their previous outing where a dress shop had been right outside the carriage door, this time they opened parasols and walked through streets filled with the characteristically bustling atmosphere of a commercial district.
As Jaha’s eyes wandered between curious-looking shops and various people’s activities, she suddenly noticed a group of seemingly wealthy people sitting together and conversing.
At first she didn’t sense anything strange and almost walked past. Astonishingly, no one else paid them any attention, making it seem like just another ordinary scene. But when she felt a strange sense of dissonance and looked again, she realized they weren’t sitting on chairs. They were sitting on people. As naturally as one would use furniture.
It wasn’t just one or two people doing this – seeing multiple people doing it was so surreal that Jaha thought, ‘Are those not real people but human-shaped chairs?’ That much, while somewhat in poor taste, was still within understandable limits.
But the moment she saw the “chair” supporting a relatively well-dressed man tremble violently and collapse to the ground, that hypothesis was completely shattered.
Bystanders laughed at the man who had fallen awkwardly because his “chair” couldn’t hold out, and the red-faced man, fuming, began viciously kicking the person who had failed to properly serve as his chair.
It was a merciless beating, yet none of the people present intervened. No – they didn’t even bat an eye, continuing their cheerful conversations among themselves as if what was being beaten before them wasn’t a fellow human being of flesh and blood.
The entire sequence felt like a scene from some terribly unfunny and unpleasant farce.
Jaha’s heartbeat quickened.
Can I really just leave this be?
The violent momentum was alarming. If no one intervened, an irreversible tragedy might occur.
Fidgeting restlessly, Jaha repeatedly clenched and unclenched her innocent fists. Her conscience screamed at her, but she couldn’t muster the courage to step forward. If she couldn’t do it in that world protected by laws, how could she possibly do it here?
“What’s the matter, my lady?”
Madame Marie followed Jaha’s gaze and frowned, her displeasure evident.
Unlike the indifferent bystanders, her normal reaction gave Jaha a flicker of courage, just as she was about to speak—
“How uncivilized. Even when handling objects, there are lines one shouldn’t cross.”
Madame Marie spat out the words with contempt. Jaha was bewildered.
Objects?
The one being beaten was a person—
As if sensing the questions flooding Jaha’s eyes, Madame Marie added,
“It seems this is your first time seeing them in person. Those are slaves.”
“Ah.”
Jaha let out a meaningless exclamation, her head spinning.
Slaves.
That single word sent her heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach.
The surrounding noise blurred, dissolving into an incomprehensible hum. Then, a ticking sound emerged—sharp, unnervingly clear, as if someone had placed a metronome beside her ear.
“I’ve made you capable of functioning as a proper person, so I’ll soon free you from slavery and make you a commoner.”
The voice of an old man, thick with phlegm.
“Were you originally a slave? Or did you become one?”
“Even if one is a slave, how could they do this much…!”
The clear, gentle voice of a young woman.
“Why does a slave have a book?”
“How utterly indecent. A mere slave, climaxing before your master without permission.”
“Don’t forget your place. You’re a slave who spreads her legs whenever I desire. That’s your true calling. Already your upper and lower holes gush with pleasure when a c**k enters. And what about your back hole, now feeling empty without beads.”
A voice—refined, honeyed, yet more horrifying than any demon’s.
A chill seeped into her bones.
The strength drained from her body.
Dizziness rose, her sense of balance vanishing.
The world tilted, warping in all directions.
She couldn’t tell if she was still standing or if she had already collapsed—flailing in a world without gravity.
The tick-tock persisted.
Then, realization struck.
Not a metronome.
This was the sound of a clock’s hand moving.
The noise was so unnaturally loud she had mistaken it for a metronome. But no—it was the deafening turn of an enormous clock’s second hand.
“What, exactly, have I done wrong? You’ve seen the tools in the training hall—if you have eyes, you’ve seen them. Have I ever used them on you? Broken your body? Ever let you taste the whip like other slaves? No, not even a slap. So what grievance could you possibly have to defy me like this?!”
The man’s voice, thick with fury, soon grew damp, heavy with moisture.
“Say something. Anything. Curse me, damn me—I swear I won’t hold you accountable. Just… please. Come back.”
The man’s desperate pleas echoed around her—dozens, hundreds of times repeating.
Surrounded by those agonizing screams, Jaha felt nauseous.
Why did you do it? You knew you’d regret it like this, pounding the ground in despair.
No matter how much I was a slave, you shouldn’t have treated me like that!
“My lady?”
Madame Marie, sensing the unusual tension, approached Jaha.
Her face was as pale as if bleached, her gaze distant, her body trembling uncontrollably. Even at a glance, her strange condition was enough to make Madame Marie tense.
“My lady? Is something wrong?”
At that moment, Jaha’s body collapsed. The escort knights, with their sharp reflexes, caught her just in time.
In her fading consciousness, Jaha heard a voice—one she couldn’t believe belonged to the usually refined Madame Marie—piercing through the air.
“A doctor! Call a doctor, now! This lady is wearing the ‘Ring of Abrixa’…!”
Jaha’s thoughts ended there. After that, only darkness remained.
When she opened her eyes again, Rikanan was at her bedside.
“Jaha.”
She stared blankly at him. His haggard complexion did nothing to diminish his handsome features—if anything, it added a sickly, haunting beauty to him.
“Jaha?”
When she didn’t respond, his voice wavered with unease. Jaha finally answered in a subdued tone.
“I’m just… a little tired. I want to rest.”
It was a request to be left alone. He hesitated, as if he had something to say, but in the end, he gave her the answer she wanted.
“I understand. Rest well.”
Jaha stared blankly at his retreating figure before shifting her gaze to survey the room.
She hadn’t realized it before, but an intense sense of déjà vu now overwhelmed her.
The distinctive style, the colors, the atmosphere. This familiar air she could almost taste.
How had she not recognized it until now? How could she have completely forgotten?
“This isn’t the first time.”
Yoo Jaha had been to this world before.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.