The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 94

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.

Yet, after going through the trouble of lulling her to sleep, once he finished wiping her down, he gently rubbed her palm with his thumb, teasingly light. Jaha let out another small whimper and stirred.

“Ugh…”

“What would make you laugh?”

He still didn’t know what she liked or disliked.

Jaha never told him.

Dresses—whatever color, whatever design, lace or no lace—she acted as if it made no difference.

Food—whether seafood, meat, grains, whatever seasoning or cooking method—her reaction was always the same. It’s all the same.

Even when he bluntly asked her to tell him what she liked, he still couldn’t figure it out—all he ever got in return was “It’s all fine.”

It felt like a heavy stone was pressing down on his chest.

He couldn’t—and didn’t want to—force her to laugh by threatening her.

He didn’t want a forced smile.

He wanted her to smile because she was genuinely happy.

In front of him, because of him, and no one else.

“Jaha.”

He kept stroking her small hand, which seemed barely half the size of his own, and gazed at her. He imagined a smile spreading across that face. His chest tightened, and his blood burned.

“Smile for me.”

It was something he couldn’t bring himself to say when Jaha was conscious. Partly because it felt too much like begging, which he disliked—but also because once words left his lips, they inevitably became a command.

He didn’t want to force her.

Unable to contain the restless heat inside him, the emperor buried his face in Jaha’s palm and let out a sigh. Saying it aloud only made the longing sharper.

What’s so hard about smiling? Why won’t you laugh even once?

Other people laughed a dozen times a day for no reason at all.

He could almost understand that foolish king who, upon learning his favored woman loved the sound of tearing silk, bankrupted his treasury buying up all the silk in the land just to see her smile. The only difference was that *his* empire wouldn’t collapse over something as trivial as silk.

How would you laugh?

Would you laugh freely, mouth wide open—or would it be quiet, just the slightest curl of your lips?

Perhaps she might even have a habit of covering her mouth when she laughed.

He wanted to know everything—how far those pale lips would curve upward, what sound she would make when she laughed, even the pitch of her voice.

Trapped in a feverish longing no different from an illness, he suffered for a long time.

◇ ◆ ◇

There’s nothing as ugly as a one-way street.

That was Jaha’s opinion.

How utterly pathetic it is to feverishly write yourself into some overwrought romance novel as the protagonist when the other person hasn’t even spared you a thought.

Unreciprocated attachment is obsession. Kindness the other never asked for is self-indulgence. Heartache over someone who doesn’t even care is nothing but a solitary fever.

Interaction requires mutual communication. That’s why Jaha kept restraining her gaze from drifting toward Cedric’s lips.

It’s rude to steal glances at someone’s body and entertain strange fantasies just because of a dream.

She couldn’t afford to blur the lines between dreams and reality. No matter how vividly real the sensation of that kiss had felt.

Soft as velvet, light as a feather.

Unlike the rough, hungry kisses of the beastly emperor.

If it were that kind of kiss, maybe just once more—

Jaha shook her head to stop her thoughts from spiraling back there. She didn’t understand herself. She wasn’t even sure if she liked Cedric that way.

She did want to feel that sensation from her dream again, but she didn’t yearn to date him or feel her heart race just from seeing him. That’s why she was so confused about her own emotions.

Did she dream of him because she liked him? Or was Cedric just a random draw from the lottery of her subconscious?

The unanswerable question spun in circles, leaving Jaha disoriented.

After accidentally running into Cedric at the detached palace, only to part in tears without a proper conversation, she regretted that day over and over. The self-loathing and regret—wasting such a chance when she had no idea when she’d see him again—left her feeling wretched.

And yet, as if mocking her inner turmoil, Jaha found herself face-to-face with Cedric again in the same place just a week later.

Arriving too late would arouse the emperor’s suspicion, so they couldn’t have a long conversation. The two exchanged brief greetings and idle chatter before parting, and after that, they continued to meet about once a week. Jaha didn’t even appear at fixed times, so the fact that they kept running into each other meant Cedric must have been coming there often.

Was his workplace nearby?

Or did he simply have a lot of free time?