The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 256

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.

Then, if she had a dream so vivid it blurred with reality—one where he tormented her—would she, upon waking, have the right to take revenge? Even if it was just a dream, the suffering was as real as if it had actually happened.

Lost in thought, Jaha sighed softly and ran a hand through her hair.

“What’s the point of questioning it now…?”

Revenge—she had already taken most of it. The problem was, even after pouring everything into it, it didn’t feel like she’d done anything.

Maybe this had been a fight she was never meant to win from the start. Slave Yoo Jaha had not loved the emperor, but slave Rikanan loved his master, Yoo Jaha.

Because their hearts were different, what had been torture, humiliation, and punishment for slave Yoo Jaha was nothing of the sort for slave Rikanan.

Jaha had hoped he would change his mind along the way. That’s why she had relentlessly trampled his pride and humiliated him—so that true empathy could take root. The day he finally snapped, shouting “I can’t take this stupid farce anymore. Get lost,” would have been the day he understood, even just a fraction, how slave Yoo Jaha had felt when violated against her will.

But this man never changed. Until the very end, he looked at her with eyes full of helpless adoration, lusted after her, and in bed, lost himself as if overwhelmed by how much he loved it.

Even now, as she watched his flawlessly sculpted face, eyes closed in quiet repose, Jaha muttered inwardly:

Disgusting man.

Shameless man.

Man who knows no shame.

“For a mage, losing their magic is the same as having their limbs severed.”

That was the answer she received when she once asked this man’s so-called master, “What do you think would happen if you suddenly lost your magic one day?”

“No—I’d rather lose my limbs. You can live without limbs, but you can’t live without magic. You non-mages wouldn’t understand, but if you asked a hundred mages, ninety-nine would make the same choice as me. ‘Live without magic’? It’s no different than ripping out a fish’s gills and telling it to breathe only through its nose.”

She thought she understood, at least partly. Jaha, who had experienced firsthand just how extraordinary magic was, time and time again. A skilled mage could accomplish with magic what limbs could do—and far beyond.

So what must it feel like for this man, who had lost that near-omnipotent power, to become a fish without gills?

Was he satisfied with his choice? Or did he regret it…?

She had pondered it the entire way back after hearing the mage’s answer.

Now, staring at his sleeping face as if scrutinizing an answer sheet to an unsolved problem, Jaha wondered.

Looking at him sometimes made a thick, tar-black liquid—like sewage sludge—ooze from somewhere deep inside her chest. By the time it corroded her entire body, rising up to clog her throat, she could no longer suppress the destructive emotions.

Jaha knew exactly what that viscous, tar-like substance was.

The residue of what was once called love, now rotted and decayed in its place.

Just as abandoned food festers and stagnant water turns foul over time, discarded love, too, decomposes on its own, fermenting into a repulsive, unidentifiable sludge.

Yet, ironically, it was also this man who settled that vile liquid choking her and saved her.

The grotesque emotions born from him were also quelled by him.

Jaha had no idea how to define this bizarre cycle.

Her chest felt stifled, so she decided to go for a walk and had just slipped out of bed when arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Don’t go.”

The arms gripping her shoulders were firm, but the voice above her head trembled slightly.

“Don’t leave me behind, Jaha…”

Had he woken from the sound of her moving? Or had he never been asleep to begin with?

After a brief silence, she replied,

“I’m not leaving you today. I just can’t sleep, so I’m going for a walk in the garden.”

The arms tightly coiled around her loosened reluctantly. She had been ready to snap at him if he tried to follow, but he remained on the bed like a discarded doll, not interfering.

As she wandered the garden, Jaha’s gaze drifted toward the window—and there, she saw a figure standing by the pane. The darkness obscured his features, but she could tell he was watching her.