The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 24
The maid who had shaken Jaha awake answered politely.
Following the instructions, Meril led Jaha to the slave quarters in the main palace. She explained the rules Jaha needed to follow and told her to ask if she had any questions. Jaha cautiously opened her mouth, trying not to sound discontent.
“It’s an honor to work in the main palace, but… do you happen to know why my assignment was changed?”
“Hmm, how would a mere maid like me know the intentions of Countess Wenstell? But if I had to guess… it’s probably because of that.”
Meril gestured toward Jaha’s lower abdomen with her chin, then quickly changed the subject. Jaha, in a manner befitting a slave, politely indicated that she had no further questions, and Meril left the room after finishing her task.
Alone, Jaha stared blankly at her new quarters. It was slightly larger and better furnished than the slave quarters in the previous palace, but it was still far from comfortable.
Tears welled up in her eyes without warning.
The reason came trailing behind the emotions that had surged belatedly.
“I want to go back.”
Isn’t this enough? Send me back to where I’m supposed to be.
While thinking this with her aching body, her thoughts suddenly drifted to the pattern on her lower abdomen. Since no one was around anyway, Jaha lifted her skirt to properly examine it, her voice trembling.
“What is this?”
The pattern, properly seen in the light, was unbearably embarrassing. A lily-like flower in the center with geometric patterns mirrored on both sides—it was clearly not something that belonged on an ordinary person’s body.
Wondering if there might be some texture, she touched it, but it felt exactly like touching bare skin. There wasn’t even the slightest raised sensation. Just like a hologram. She had a feeling that even if she scratched it, only the skin would peel while this pale pink pattern would remain exactly where it was.
Jaha stared down at the pattern with a dazed expression. It didn’t feel real.
This is my body?
Something like this appeared on my body?
Who gave anyone the right?
When did I ever consent to this?
Jaha had been an ordinary college student. She was just like any other girl who would be in a bad mood all day if her bangs weren’t styled right, who would hide her unevenly cut nails until they grew back, who would frown every time she looked in the mirror when she had a blemish, and who would contemplate dozens of times whether to get a mole removed whenever she noticed one on her body.
To such a Jaha, the seal on her lower abdomen felt absolutely grotesque.
If she were to return to Earth in this state, could she ever go to places like saunas or swimming pools? No, that wasn’t even the real issue—could she live a normal life?
What if she found someone to love? What would they think seeing this? Putting herself in their shoes, if a man had such an obscene tattoo in such a location, she didn’t think she could readily marry him.
Was there no way to remove it? Maybe it could be washed off with water or soap?
Even knowing it was impossible, Jaha desperately poured drinking water on her lower abdomen and scrubbed it with soap, clinging to false hope. She didn’t have the courage to go to the washing area. She couldn’t let others see this pattern.
“Why, just why?”
Muttering incomprehensible sounds, she lathered up thoroughly and scrubbed hard, but the pattern on her lower abdomen didn’t fade even slightly. Of course it wouldn’t—it wasn’t a henna tattoo but magic. Still, Jaha couldn’t stop herself.
She couldn’t accept the terrible reality that this pattern was permanent, that it would remain part of her body unless the Emperor removed the magic.
After futilely repeating these meaningless efforts for a while, Jaha couldn’t contain her rising anger and threw the soap. Her masterpiece, the first thing she had managed to create in this world after much effort, shattered ungracefully.
If she could have her way, she would have gone straight to the Emperor to confront him. She wanted to pour out all the words boiling inside her and cause whatever chaos she could. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let a moment’s emotions ruin something important. Jaha reminded herself of her goal.
To return to her original world with a body as intact as possible.
Jaha had a duty to return safely to those who loved and worried about her.
If she went to confront the Emperor and make a scene, she might gain a moment’s satisfaction and relief. But in exchange, she might have to pay with her life at worst. Would her parents want that? For their daughter to die protecting her pride?
Of course, there might be parents who teach that it’s better to die nobly upholding one’s beliefs than to live shamefully. But Jaha knew well that her father and mother were not like that.
While the independence movement was noble, Jaha’s parents didn’t want their daughter to become an independence fighter. In an extreme scenario, if becoming pro-Japanese was the only way for their daughter to survive, they would want her to live even that way.
Understanding their feelings, Yoo Jaha couldn’t easily throw herself away. Even if she had to crawl shamefully on the ground, even if she had to throw away all her pride, she had to return to Earth with her body and limbs as intact as possible.
Yoo Jaha closed her eyes and steadied her trembling breath. She forcefully swallowed down the many emotions rising within her.
◇ ◆ ◇
Duchess Pertile raised her thin eyebrows at Lady Wenstell’s report.
“It seems His Majesty has taken quite a liking to that slave.”
The contraceptive seal meant this wasn’t a one-time thing—he intended to take her again in the future.
While this was the first such occurrence since becoming the head lady-in-waiting, Duchess Pertile was only mildly surprised.
The Emperor was still a healthy man. If anything, he had shown excessive restraint until now. To reach his age without taking even a consort, let alone an Empress—it was beyond unusual, it was incomprehensible.
Most men Duchess Pertile knew were desperate to lay their hands on as many women as possible. The more power they had, the more so. Her husband, Duke Pertile, was no exception.
Of course, the Emperor hadn’t lived like a monk all this time. Rather, he had been ascetic considering his position and absolute power.
It was a pity that his chosen partner was a lowly slave, but the fact that the Emperor, who had always treated his desires as one-time affairs, was showing a change of heart wasn’t a bad sign. A slave, with no freedom, would be easier to manage. Unlike a courtesan who might cause trouble in social circles, a slave wouldn’t overstep her bounds or stir up issues.
Having sorted her thoughts, Duchess Pertile elegantly set down her teacup.
Though it was unclear how long the Emperor’s interest would last, it was the duty of a loyal subject to ensure His Majesty could derive even greater pleasure from this slave.
“We must prepare her training.”
pickle3
just keeps going bad to worse for her.
I dont think she’s gonna get to go home at this rate.