The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 244

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.

“Was it fun? Watching me act like a fool, tricked by you? Did you laugh at me, clueless about who you really were, falling completely for your act? Did you enjoy deceiving me when I had no memories?!”

“No, no. That’s not it. I don’t know why you’d think that, but it couldn’t be. I, I…”

Seizing the returned opportunity, he immediately denied her words. But perhaps his emotions were too strong—no smooth sentences came out. There was too much he wanted to say, his head felt like it would burst, yet his tongue, frustratingly clumsy, only stammered out foolish sounds.

Weaving lies with a silver tongue had always been his specialty. Until now, he had spun sophistry effortlessly, ensnaring people without hesitation. But the truth—his real feelings—were unbearably heavy. Unlike the feather-light lies that slipped out so easily, they refused to budge from his tongue.

He had to clear up the misunderstanding.

He had to do something, anything, so Jaha wouldn’t tremble in fear anymore.

“Then what is it?! There must be some reason for this ridiculous act! What were you thinking—”

Jaha’s interrogation suddenly stopped.

He looked at her in confusion. Her face was frozen in shock, as if she had witnessed something unbelievable.

Jaha, who had stepped back, began to stagger away unsteadily.

Reflexively, he followed—just enough to match the distance she had retreated. He didn’t want to get closer and frighten her, but he couldn’t bear to let her go any farther. Yet Jaha only panicked, widening the gap between them.

“Why… why… This can’t be. How…”

Her face drained of color.

Her eyes filled with incomprehension.

Trembling pitifully, Jaha asked him:

“Why are you smiling?”

Ah.

Wondering if it was true, he brushed his fingertips over his lips. There, he felt the smooth curve of a smile.

Jaha shuddered as she watched the scene unfold. It felt like front-row seats to a horror movie featuring an irredeemable psychopath.

She hadn’t expected guilt from him—but smiling at a time like this?

No, actually, she had wanted him to writhe in remorse. To understand what he’d done wrong, to regret how much he’d hurt her, to apologize sincerely.

If he cared for her even a little—if he had even a shred of humanity left—that would have been the normal reaction.

‘But he’s… smiling?’

It felt like ice water had been dumped over her.

She had imagined countless possibilities—him pretending to repent with crocodile tears, or coldly revealing his true nature without hesitation. But this? She hadn’t even considered it.

Her legs gave out. Feeling the chill of the wall seep into her back, she slid down limply, collapsing to the floor.

He immediately closed the distance, kneeling just before her—but when he reached out, he hesitated and withdrew. Even that hesitation looked like nothing more than another act to Jaha.

When he touched his lips, as if he hadn’t even realized he was smiling, she wanted to scream. He’s toying with me. There’s no sincerity in this man at all.

The cold wall pressed against her back. There was nowhere left to retreat. Trembling, she shut her eyes—

“Because I’m happy.”

His voice was drained of strength.

“That’s why I smiled without realizing it.”

Jaha blinked.

What… did I just hear?

The words weren’t complicated, yet her mind refused to process them. Like a broken machine, her thoughts stuttered to a halt.

“…What?”

“Get angrier. Tell me how much you despise me. Why you’re furious, why you’re in pain.”

Like a malfunctioning doll, Jaha slowly lifted her head.

“Empty everything inside you—everything you’ve been holding back—onto me. Until there’s nothing left.”

Her vision filled with the man’s face—twisted as if on the verge of tears, yet at the same time, brimming with eerie delight.

In that moment, realization struck her like a lie unveiled. It was as if she had peered into his mind—as if his thoughts had suddenly crystallized in her grasp.

“Just get angry already! Don’t just slump there like a broken doll—grab a knife and come at me if you have to!”

In an opulent palace, there lived a woman who did nothing but breathe and a man who had half-lost his mind.

The woman was a younger Jaha. The man, dressed in attire that instantly marked him as nobility, was the Emperor.

“Go ahead—condemn me. Curse me, pour out your hatred. Repay me tenfold, a hundredfold for what I’ve done to you! If it satisfies you, I’ll gladly endure it all!”

The Emperor raged like fire one day before the hollow shell of Jaha, who merely existed. Another day, he clutched at her sleeves, weeping. Yet another, he fell to his knees and begged.

“Will you just keep suffering at my hands and run away? Play the fool without even taking revenge? Wake up. I’m giving you this chance. Do anything—I won’t retaliate. So come at me. Say anything, do anything, I beg you…”

Through him, Jaha learned what it meant for a person to rot alive. But by then, she herself had long withered away—so she paid him no mind.

That’s why this man was happy.

Hatred was better than indifference.

Because as long as it wasn’t nothingness, there had to be an end.