The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 89

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.

Magic was formidable, yet for some reason, it only filled Jaha with foreboding. Perhaps it was the insecurity of being powerless against it, but it felt like something that should never have been granted to humans.

“Relax.”

The Emperor stroked Jaha’s stiffened arm as he spoke. His touch held no s****l intent—just a simple, soothing gesture, his voice gentle as if calming a child. Without realizing it, Jaha held her breath and obeyed.

“Good. Now exhale slowly.”

A large hand combed through her hair with such careful lightness it almost tickled. Gradually, her eyelids grew too heavy to resist.

This man is the reason I’m drenched in cold sweat and shuddering.

If not for him, I’d have no reason to be afraid at all.

You’re my nightmare.

And yet here I am, finding comfort in your embrace, in your touch—what kind of absurdity is this? It’s all so wrong…

The Emperor quietly stroked the hair of Jaha, who had drifted back into slumber. As he soothed her, his own drowsiness vanished completely.

The Emperor of an empire, his sleep disturbed by a slave.

He should have been irritated. But the fact that he wasn’t—that he felt almost nothing at all—surprised even him.

Maybe I could go even further with her.

No, most things probably wouldn’t even bother me.

…Is she really just a slave to me?

Does a master who not only caresses his slave but even licks between her legs exist anywhere in this world?

Looking back, that was the kind of thing a slave would do. Though he had no intention of stopping—her trembling reactions pleased him too much—he couldn’t help but find it absurd.

The ridiculous thought crossed his mind: At this rate, she might just end up becoming his master.

A mere slave, the master of the Emperor who rules an empire?

Preposterous.

“…Though I wouldn’t let her climb that high,” he muttered under his breath before pressing a kiss to the strands of hair tangled around his fingers.

◇ ◆ ◇

Coincidence arrived like the wind—unexpected, indifferent, crashing into the moment without warning.

On her way back from bathing, Jaha caught sight of shimmering platinum blond hair and reacted before she could stop herself.

“Cedric.”

She immediately clamped her mouth shut, eyes darting to scan the surroundings. Thankfully, no one else was in sight.

The bathhouse the Emperor had granted her stood in a secluded annex—an unconscious manifestation of his possessive desire to keep her hidden from others. As a result, the area was nearly deserted.

Of all the moments to be apart from the Emperor… to meet Cedric here, now…

This might be her only chance.

Cedric, having noticed her too, froze in place.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other in silence.

“Have you been… well, Jaha?”

Cedric broke the quiet first, his expression awkward. A simple question, but Jaha couldn’t answer. “Yes” would be a lie. No would be too pitiful—no one expected “I’ve been miserable” in response to a greeting. How absurd would it be to reply to How are you? with “How could I possibly be fine?”

She tried to calmly deflect with And you?—but before she could even part her lips, tears spilled over. No time to hold them back, no chance to stop them.

Cedric’s startled face blurred as he rushed toward her.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“N-No, nothing.”

She denied it, struggling to stifle the sobs, but it was useless. Instead, like a dam breaking, the tears only surged harder.

I’ve been suffering.

All this time—I’ve been in agony.

Covering her face with her hands, Jaha sobbed uncontrollably, as if pouring out every ounce of sorrow she had bottled up.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Cedric must be so uncomfortable.

“I—I’m sorry. This must be… confusing. I don’t even know why I’m like this. It’s just… sudden—”

“It’s okay.”

Cedric’s voice was steady as he cut through her flustered apologies.

“You don’t have to explain.”

His kindness only made her eyes burn hotter.

That unwavering gentleness—it was nothing like the Emperor’s selfish affection, which treated her like a favored object. This wasn’t condescending charity, but warmth that centered her, that acknowledged her as a person.

And in the face of the compassion she’d craved most, Jaha crumbled completely.

When she buried her face against his chest, Cedric stiffened briefly before carefully wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He held her without a word, waiting until her tears subsided.

Coming to her senses, Jaha realized she’d spent far too long crying. If she lingered any later than usual, the Emperor would notice something amiss.

Pushing gently against Cedric’s chest, she wiped her face with her sleeve and steadied herself.

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

“I… come here to bathe now. The bathhouse is here. I don’t have a fixed schedule, but usually between lunch and dinner. So if you’re free around then—though it’s more likely we won’t meet—”

“Got it. I understand. You should go.”