My grandfather's audible exhale interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the present moment, or rather, to a moment in the past.
"Are you still deluded in thinking that you can become the head of our family?" he asked, his tone laced with scorn and disapproval. "It's clear that you're not ready to bear the weight of this responsibility, nor can you be trusted to uphold our family's honor. So tell me, Leon, do you still cling to these delusions of grandeur?"
The words of my grandfather triggered a sudden recollection of an ideal that I held dear as a child.
Oh, I remember what that dream was now.
It was a dream, a lofty ambition that I had cherished dearly when I was a child. However, it was a dream that I had long forgotten amidst the turmoil and pain of losing everything that I had held dear. But now, as if from a long-forgotten memory, I could vividly recall the dream that had once filled me with excitement and hope.
I had always yearned to become a hero, just like the ones my mother used to tell me about in her enchanting stories. The tales of valiant warriors, wise leaders, and cunning strategists who saved their people from the clutches of evil and led them to victory. These stories instilled in me the belief that a hero should possess not only physical strength but also a sharp mind, sound judgment, and the ability to command respect and loyalty from others.
As a child, I was captivated by these stories and dreamed of becoming a hero myself. Becoming the head of the Asura House was just a means to that end. The head of the Asura House represented the pinnacle of leadership and power, the ideal embodiment of the qualities I believed a hero should possess. And so, in my childish naivety, I saw becoming the head of the house as the first step towards fulfilling my dream of becoming a hero.
That dream seems rather childish and unrealistic, to be honest. However, I understand that to my past self, it was something he was deeply passionate about and determined to achieve, no matter how impossible it may have seemed.
However, achieving this dream was easier said than done. To become the leader, I had to defeat Marcus, the current heir to the house, in a contest of skill and prowess. I knew that this was an unrealistic goal, and that Marcus was far superior to me in every way. Nevertheless, I was willing to give it my all, because that's what dreams are for—to inspire you to strive for greatness, even when success seems impossible.
And yet, as I stood before my grandfather in that moment, facing his harsh words and the weight of my own mistakes, I couldn't help but feel like I had let that dream slip through my fingers.
"Am I not good enough? Do I really not have the talent for it?" My past self's voice was filled with desperation and a tinge of hopelessness. It was as if he couldn't bear to hear the answer, yet he needed to know. He seemed to be trying to grasp at straws, to find some shred of encouragement amidst the heavy criticism that he was receiving.
But Grandfather's words lacked mercy and were harsh.
"You don't," he answered his question without hesitating for even a moment, his voice carrying all through the room.
A sharp pain pierced my chest. I'd already heard this before but the words felt much heavier this time. Hearing it again made my heart feel heavy.
Why is this scene coming up now? Why are these memories playing back...?
The words that I had heard before were the last thing I wanted to hear again. It was as if I was watching a scene from a play, and I couldn't stop it from unfolding. I wanted to intervene, to stop the hurtful words from being spoken, but I was only a passive observer in this dream.
I had always tried to push these memories away, to pretend like they never happened, but it was impossible to deny the pain that I felt now. The words that had been spoken to me so long ago still stung, as if they had been said just yesterday.
As the dream continued on, I felt like I was being suffocated. I wanted to wake up, to escape this nightmare, but I couldn't. It was like I was trapped in my own mind, forced to relive all of the pain and trauma that I tried so hard to forget.
I tried to will myself awake, to break free from the dream, but it was like my mind was working against me.
As I turned to look at my grandfather, I couldn't see his expression since his back was turned. But I knew—I was certain—that he was making a disappointed face, one that was filled with scorn and disapproval.
"And because you don't know this," my grandfather continued, his tone even more scornful now, "no matter how much time passes, you'll always be a failure."
My past self was unable to respond to those hurtful words, and he trembled as if a bucket of cold water had just been poured over his head.
I could feel the weight of those words crushing me as well, even though they weren't directed at me in the present.
Please, stop—I tried to shout, but no sound came out of me. I couldn't speak. I tried to run away from this scene, but the invisible wall was still keeping me captive. Despite my attempts to escape from this memory, I found myself trapped within its confines, unable to break free.
The more I tried to resist, the more vivid the memory became. Every detail, every word, every emotion felt as fresh as the day it happened. I couldn't understand why this memory was resurfacing now, after so many years, and why it was affecting me so deeply.
Was it the result of my high fever that had triggered this memory? Or was it my subconscious trying to force me to confront my past mistakes and come to terms with them? Whatever the reason, I felt trapped, unable to escape this painful moment that I had tried so hard to forget.
"Do you understand now, Leon?"
As the conversation between my past self and Grandfather went on, the atmosphere became tense. Grandfather was a man of few words, and his piercing gaze was enough to make anyone feel uneasy. It was at this point that Grandfather turned his attention towards my past self. My past self, in turn, kept his head down, refusing to meet his gaze.
As I observed Grandfather's eyes, I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew that look all too well—a look of disappointment and disapproval. My past self, however, seemed oblivious to it.
As my past self nodded meekly in response to Grandfather's question, the silence lingered on for a few more seconds. Then, my past self mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing heavily on his mind, "A-Am I really not qualified as the successor?"
Grandfather's expression hardened as he looked down at my past self with a sense of contempt. "No, you're not," he replied firmly. "You don't have what it takes to inherit the house. It's about time you realize that."
Grandfather's words had hit my past self like a ton of bricks. He stood there, stunned, and it was evident on his face that he was struggling to process what he had just heard. His shoulders drooped, and he looked so small and vulnerable in that moment.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for my past self as I watched this scene unfold in my dream. To hear those words from someone you respect and look up to can be crushing. And for my past self, it must have been like a blow to the gut. All of his hopes and aspirations had been shattered in that moment.
And yet, despite the overwhelming sense of defeat, my past self still had a glimmer of hope. He still tried to salvage something from the wreckage of his dream, as he asked with a trembling voice, "I-Is there anything I can do to change your mind, Grandfather?"
But Grandfather's response was firm and final. "No, there isn't. It's time for you to accept reality and move on."
Grandfather's words stung like a slap in the face. My past self was overcome with a sense of defeat as he realized the harsh reality of his limitations.
"Marcus and Sirius possess exceptional talents," Grandfather continued, his voice laced with disappointment. "But unfortunately, you don't have what it takes to match them. You may possess the necessary intelligence, but you lack the strength and ability required to inherit the house."
As my past self heard Grandfather's words, he felt despair and hopelessness, and I felt the same way as I listened.
I had always felt like I was living in the shadow of my talented and accomplished family members, but hearing Grandfather confirm my worst fears only made it feel more real.
I wanted to run away, but I couldn't. This dream wouldn't let me. I could only shut my eyes. It was all I could do to escape. But even that small means of escape wouldn't work, as the voice within me commanded me to open my eyes.
The voice that had been whispering to me only urged me to open my eyes, yet I couldn't help but feel as though there was some deeper meaning behind its words. It was almost as if it was telling me that I couldn't escape the past and that I needed to confront my fears and failures head-on.
And so, I complied with the voice inside me and opened my eyes once more.