The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 43
He had seen the slave cry countless times before. In fact, she had never not cried in front of him—whether from being overwhelmed by pleasure, physiological reactions, or pain, the reasons varied. But this was the first time she had sobbed like a child.
He felt like he had made a mistake.
His heart grew cold. Despite possessing physical abilities that had long surpassed human limits, he felt as if his entire body were bound, unable to move.
What is this?
What the hell is this?
Why is my body frozen, why can’t I breathe?
Panicking, the Emperor soon noticed a man reflected in the tear-filled black eyes before him. It was him, wearing a regretful expression, unsure of what to do. Seeing his own pitiful reflection, his blood ran cold.
Why am I so flustered?
It’s just a slave crying.
Because she resisted, because she couldn’t control her temper, because she had the audacity to cling to some pathetic pride despite being a slave.
That’s right. If she had just obeyed from the start, none of this would have happened.
“You worthless thing.”
This was the result of her stubbornness.
If you thought about it, he hadn’t even been particularly harsh. A slave who defied the Emperor’s command could have lost her head, but all he did was make her repeat a few words. Wasn’t that merciful?
He justified his actions.
Ignoring his pounding heart and the turmoil in his mind, he moved his hips. As if pouring out his inner discomfort, he thrust into her roughly, and soon the rising sensations drowned out everything else.
After reaching his climax, he left the slave behind and exited the bedroom as usual. No, actually, it wasn’t like usual. He fled the room as if chased by something, his mind uneasy. But he refused to acknowledge it, turning a blind eye to the truth.
Left behind, Jaha stared blankly into the air before getting up on her own before the maids could drag her out. Staggering on trembling legs, she thought:
I want to wash.
Though her body begged to return to the slave quarters and collapse, the urge to cleanse herself overpowered even her exhaustion.
She wanted to wash away every part of her that had touched him, the lips that had uttered those humiliating words, the sticky fluid dripping down her thighs. She couldn’t bear it any longer.
Dragging her creaking body to the place where slaves were allowed to use water, Jaha first rinsed her mouth. She scrubbed the lips his fingers had touched, cleaned her tongue until she felt like gagging, then stripped and poured water over her lower body. Pressing hard on her stomach, clumps of fluid trickled out. There was so much it seemed endless.
“Bastard.”
Jaha clenched her teeth and muttered under her breath. She knew she had to watch her words in case someone overheard, but she couldn’t hold back the curse.
After emptying all the s***n pooled inside her, she was washing the rest of her body when a group of male slaves suddenly arrived.
Jaha reflexively hunched over. Logically, she knew they were just there to wash themselves, but she still hadn’t adjusted to communal bathing.
Covering the shameful mark on her lower abdomen and turning her body to hide her most private parts, she accidentally locked eyes with one of the men.
It was a face she had seen before. It didn’t take long for her to realize it was the same man she had embarrassed herself in front of while picking up soap.
Jaha immediately stopped washing. Without even drying herself properly, she threw on her clothes and fled toward the slave quarters. But then, the unfamiliar voice of a man called out to her.
“Wait! Can you spare a moment? There’s something I need to talk to you about!”
Turning around, she saw the man standing a short distance away. Her heart sank.
“Something to talk about?”
What could he possibly have to discuss? There was only one thing that came to mind.
With a pale face, Jaha pressed him.
“What is it? What do you need to talk to me about?”
“Uh, well, you see… about that time…”
Seeing the man fumble awkwardly, unable to hide his discomfort, sent a chill down Jaha’s spine.
So he did see. The faint hope that he might not have noticed that day was shattered.
Today’s really not my day. What kind of fucking bad luck is this?
Clenching her fists, Jaha tried to glare at him as calmly as possible, but her head felt like it was about to explode.
Is he planning to blackmail me with this?
That must be it.
What does he want? Money? Or is he like the Emperor, and he wants…?
It felt like she had been slapped out of nowhere, just when she was already on the verge of tears. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, only to have someone push her from behind.
Something hot surged up inside her, and Jaha clenched her teeth. Just then, the man awkwardly opened his mouth.
“I haven’t told anyone, and I don’t plan to in the future, so don’t worry. I just wanted to let you know, in case you were concerned.”
Jaha doubted her ears. Had she been so cornered that she was now hearing what she wanted to hear? As she struggled to tell if this was real or an illusion, she noticed the man’s face turning increasingly embarrassed.
What’s going on?
While she stared blankly, the man fumbled in his pocket and pulled something out, offering it to her.
“It’s not much, but if it’s okay, would you like to use this?”
It was a piece of cloth, not particularly high-quality and a bit rough for a handkerchief. But it was clean and neatly folded. Only then did Jaha realize she had been crying.
Taking the cloth, Jaha wiped her eyes and, after a brief silence, thanked him.
“Thank you. I’ll wash it and return it.”
“It’s fine. It’s nothing special. You look exhausted, so you should head back to the quarters and rest. I won’t keep you any longer since I’ve said what I wanted to say.”
The man, looking slightly awkward, stepped back. Jaha watched him for a moment before turning away. After a few steps, she glanced back and saw him still standing there, watching her as if making sure she was okay.
A strange feeling washed over her.
Since entering the palace, the only person who had shown concern for Jaha was Ranya. And even that had come after months of building a bond. Without that process, Ranya would have walked past Jaha crying without offering a handkerchief. Because slaves weren’t human.
If a noble lady were shedding tears, everyone would approach her with concern and care. But a slave wasn’t included in that universal human compassion. That’s why the cloth in Jaha’s hand felt so unfamiliar.
For the first time since arriving in this world, she felt treated like a human.
Stopping in her tracks, Jaha walked back toward the man. Unable to suppress the fluttering in her chest, driven by some impulse, she asked him:
“What’s your name?”
The man, seemingly surprised, widened his eyes before responding with a faint smile.
“Cedric. Can I ask for your name too?”
Jaha hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Jaha.”
