The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 238

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.

From why he had been favorably disposed toward me from the very beginning, to what my instincts had been warning me about all along, to the true meaning behind his words and actions at certain moments—everything fell into place.

“Come here. Come over here and talk, please.”

Why had he gotten so angry like a madman when I approached the window, only to grow restless and beg?

Why had he been so obsessively fixated on my physical state?

“I can’t do that because I’m afraid you might hate it if I act on my own.”

Why had he worried about things that ordinary lovers wouldn’t even consider?

Why had he expected nothing from me—never even dared to believe he could be loved in return?

“You’re still clumsy with your hands, huh?”

What had that cryptic remark truly meant?

“It’s me. My past might not be clean, but at least this body is pure.”

And those words too.

“Was that prince more to your taste, Jaha? More than me?”

And this too.

This, that—all of it.

Everything fit together so seamlessly, so perfectly, that it left her feeling hollow.

Ah, come to think of it, there was another piece that clicked into place.

Now she understood why there were no books in the mansion’s study dated after a certain point, why there was that strange rule forbidding the servants from bringing in outside texts.

He must have wanted to keep any possible records about the “Retired Emperor” from ever catching her eye.

Had he suspected that she might one day regain her memories? And if that happened, did he want her to believe that the emperor she despised was still inside the palace?

But that trick would only work if—like now—she didn’t know the emperor’s face. Unless he had the kind of forgettable looks you’d pass on the street a dozen times a day, there was no way she wouldn’t recognize that unreal face.

Did he think changing his eye color would be enough to fool her? As if eyes that weren’t purple could belong to an emperor—or even a royal at all?

No, in truth, none of that really mattered. There was a far more pressing question.

‘Why did he do this?’

Turn back time.

Simple in words, but an act beyond imagination—colossal, unfathomable.

She didn’t even know how such a thing was possible, let alone what could drive him to pay such a price.

‘Time… an arrow… the hands of a clock…’

Something flickered at the edge of her mind, but as always, the harder she tried to grasp it, the deeper it burrowed out of reach.

Giving up on parting the veils of fog, Jaha pressed a hand to her forehead.

Her thoughts were tangled. No matter how she turned it over, she couldn’t fathom his motives. From start to finish, none of it made sense.

‘But… do I really need to understand him?’

Suddenly, the question arose—why should I expend precious energy trying to decipher his intentions?

It might sound harsh, but understanding wasn’t an infinite resource. It was a limited currency, spent only on those you still cared about, those you wished to keep in your life.

Until just moments ago, he had been my man. But not anymore. Now that I knew his true identity, maintaining any connection with him was impossible. So why pour effort into comprehending him? I wasn’t some slave forced to grovel for survival, interpreting my master’s whims to stay alive.

Unlike the past Yoo Jaha, trapped helplessly in his grasp, the current me wasn’t bound to him. I was free. If I chose to, I could walk away anytime—no need to struggle for understanding, just sever the ties cleanly.

Just as I wouldn’t bother dissecting the thoughts of some stranger—like a Mr. Nakamura in Japan or an Abdullah in Saudi Arabia—I could treat him the same way. A meaningless outsider, irrelevant to my world.

For now, no better option came to mind. Revenge? No means, no desire. The grief of losing a lover overnight surged like a tide, then receded just as quickly. But the idea of pretending ignorance, closing my eyes and ears to the past to live harmoniously with him? Unthinkable. That would require abandoning every shred of my self-respect as a human being.

Jaha removed the couple’s ring from her left ring finger and the ring from her right—the one from Abrixa. The first she hesitated over, clutching it in her palm; the second, she held out to the mage.

“Could I ask you a favor? If you ever meet its owner, return this ring to him.”

“What? Why all of a sudden—”

“I don’t think it’s something I should keep.”

The mage narrowed his eyes, studying the woman who had moments ago acted like she was on the verge of death, then swung between joy, solemnity, and deep thought before settling into blankness.

“Quit ordering people around and handle your own mess.”