The scene in front of me played out in vivid detail as I watched with open eyes. I made a conscious effort to not look away or even blink, wanting to face the truth head-on and not shy away from it. Every detail was seared into my memory, from the way my past self's shoulders slumped in defeat to the cold, hard look in my grandfather's eyes.
As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but feel a wave of apprehension wash over me. My heart was racing, my palms sweaty as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was to come. I knew the outcome already, but that didn't make it any easier to witness.
Grandfather let out a deep sigh as he looked at his grandchild and spoke in a cold and harsh tone, "You are a weak and incompetent individual who lacks any semblance of skill or ability. I wish that you had never entertained the thought of becoming the head of our family. Instead, you should have continued on the path that I laid out for you—to become a statesman and assist your two brothers."
My grandfather had always envisioned a future for me as a statesman, and his retainers had thought highly of me because of my intelligence. Even as a child, I knew that I had a sharp mind, and that was the reason why my grandfather had planned out my future as a statesman.
Despite this, I had never intended to follow in that particular path, and I had strayed from the plan that my grandfather had set out for me. Instead, I had followed my own desires and aspirations, hoping to chart my own course in life.
In my youthful and idealistic mind, I had believed that becoming a hero was the ultimate goal in life. My mother's stories about heroes had a profound impact on me, instilling within me a deep desire to become one myself. Her tales filled me with a sense of awe and admiration for those who had the courage and strength to make a difference in the world around them. I had believed that heroes were those who made a significant impact on the world, and I had convinced myself that pursuing a career as a statesman was not the way to achieve that.
Driven by my desire to become a hero, I had set my sights on becoming the head of the family, even though the odds of achieving this position were slim.
But this stupid pursuit of heroism proved to be misguided and ultimately led to my downfall.
Grandfather's tone was harsh and unsympathetic as he continued to speak, his eyes fixed firmly on my past self. "It's impossible for someone as incompetent as you to rule over the Asura House," he stated firmly, his words piercing through the tense silence. "You lack the necessary qualities and traits to lead the family. If the person at the top is incompetent, those beneath them will inevitably suffer the consequences."
As my past self stood there with his head down, unable to meet his grandfather's gaze, tears began to well up in his eyes.
Finally, he managed to stutter out a response, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'll do my best and show it to you next time," he said, tear streaming down his face. "I'll endeavor myself seriously, so—"
His words were a desperate plea, a last-ditch effort to appeal to his grandfather's mercy and understanding.
But Grandfather merely scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain, "Don't make me laugh, Leon. You've been given so many chances already, and yet you still couldn't improve. You're nothing but a lost cause."
It was a twisted and bitter irony that the person I held in the highest regard, my own grandfather, was the one who had delivered such a devastating blow.
As I watched my past self standing there with tears streaming down his face, it felt like I was experiencing the pain and rejection all over again. It was as if the wounds from that moment in time had never fully healed, and I was being forced to relive the moment again and again.
Tears streamed down my past self's face as he struggled to accept the reality of his situation. "Please, Grandfather, there must be something I can do to make it right. I can work harder, I can prove myself. If you want me to be a statesman, I'll become one."
But...
Despite my past self's insistence that he would do better and show his potential, Grandfather remained unmoved. "No, there's no need," he declared coldly. "Because you're no longer one of us."
Those words struck me like a physical blow, even as a mere observer in this dream. I could feel the weight of my past self's despair and disappointment, as well as the sting of Grandfather's rejection. Despite the passage of time, those words still had the power to wound me.
My past self was shocked beyond words. "G-Grandfather? What do you mean by that…?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I can't have a grandson like you in my house. From this day onward, you may no longer belong to the Asura house." replied Grandfather, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"Wha—?" my past self made a face similar to a person who received a death sentence.
The world around him seemed to crumble into ruins, and he found himself struggling to make sense of what had just happened. He couldn't believe that his own grandfather, the person he had always looked up to and admired, had just disowned him.
"P-Please, don't," he begged. "I-I'm really sorry! I promise it won't happen again! I-I will do better in the future. I-I won't ever disappoint you, I swear. Just don't disown me."
My past self's voice trembled with fear and desperation as he pleaded with Grandfather, his words choked with tears. His face contorted in anguish, and it was clear that the weight of Grandfather's disapproval had crushed him completely.
But Grandfather remained firm in his decision. "No, Leon. You have brought shame to our family, and we cannot tolerate that. You are no longer welcome in this house, and you must leave immediately."
My past self's heart sank as he realized the weight of Grandfather's decision. He had been stripped of his identity and his place in the family. He was now an outsider, no longer belonging to the prestigious Asura House.
With tears streaming down my face, I found myself unable to bear the weight of my grandfather's words any longer. I desperately wished to escape this nightmare and return to reality, to the safety of my own bed, but it seemed as if the dream world had a tight grip on me, refusing to let me go.
"Please, don't make me remember any more!" I cried out, my voice filled with desperation and fear. "I don't want this dream! I want it to go away! I need to wake up now!"
When am I going to wake up from this dream? I didn't want to hear any more of this.
I covered both of my ears with my hands, hoping to block out any sound that might come from my grandfather's mouth. But despite my attempts to shut out the world, I could still feel his presence looming over me, his words echoing in my mind like a never-ending nightmare.
I prayed for the dream to end, for it to release me from its grasp, but it seemed as though my pleas fell on deaf ears.
My past self spoke in a low, almost inaudible voice as he asked his grandfather, "Why?"
However, despite the softness of his voice, Grandfather was close enough to hear him.
"Why, you ask?" he replied, his voice ringing in my head, as if he was talking directly at my ear. "Because you're a disgrace to the family, Leon."
His words were sharp like a knife and they pierced my heart deeply.
It was a painful realization that I had always suspected, but had never been able to fully accept: that I was not special, that I was nothing more than a pathetic disgrace. My past self knew it too, and he could only look down at the floor in shame. That's right. I am no special. Just a pathetic disgrace.
"Do you understand now, Leon?" my grandfather asked, but another voice overlaid his words. It was a woman's voice, so cheerful that it was a stark contrast to the gloomy atmosphere in the room.
I looked around, confused and disoriented. Who was speaking? Was it just my imagination, or was there really someone else in the room with us? However, at that moment, I noticed that everything had gone eerily quiet and still, as if time itself had frozen in place.
Nonetheless, the question asked by the voice seemed to resonate within me, its echo still ringing in my ears.
I didn't want to understand. I didn't want to face the reality of what was happening to me. And so I looked around the room, searching for a way out. But there was no door, no escape from the pain and despair that engulfed me.
"Will you look away from the truth, or confront it directly?" The voice asked, its tone tinged with excitement.
It was at this point that I had a sudden realization: if this voice had been preventing me from escaping this dream, pushing me to face the harsh realities that I had been avoiding, then it must have been the one showing me the dream in the first place.
This realization filled me with anger and frustration. "Stop it! I've seen enough!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, desperate to put an end to this dream. I had seen enough of this false reality and wanted nothing more than to break free from its grasp.
And then, as if timed perfectly, the voice suddenly ceased, and the dream continued. The room was once again engulfed in an oppressive silence that was as thick as a fog. The weight of the atmosphere was almost palpable, and the brief respite provided by the cheerful voice was gone. It felt like time had never moved forward, and I was still trapped in that terrible moment from the past, with no way to escape its clutches.
The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of my past self's ragged breathing and the occasional sniffle. Grandfather's eyes remained fixed on him, unblinking and unyielding.
His words rang out through the silence, cutting through the thick atmosphere like a knife. The command was harsh, leaving no room for discussion or negotiation.
"Pack your belongings and leave. You are no longer welcome to live in this house."
His voice was cold and unfeeling, as if he had already made his mind up about my fate. I knew that arguing or pleading with him would be useless; his decision was final, and there was no way to change his mind.
Despite my grandfather's harsh words and his unrelenting gaze, my past self remained frozen in place. He stood there, his body wracked with sobs, unable to move or speak.
Grandfather, on the other hand, remained completely stoic and unmoved by my past self's emotional outburst. He seemed unaffected by the sight of his grandson's tears, as he questioned him in the same unfeeling tone. "Do you still have a complaint to voice?"
"No... If that's what Grandfather says." my past self said in between sobs.
"In that case, we have nothing else to discuss. Get out of my sight," said Grandfather, indicating that this talk was over and urging the past me to leave the room.
"Yes… I understand," said my past self, nodding. The words that came out of Grandfather's mouth were hard to swallow, but my past self obediently obeyed that decision.
"Never show your face in front of me again," he concluded with those words, his cold gaze mixed with disappointment and contempt.
Disheartened and defeated, my past self lowered his head and took slow, heavy steps toward the door. It was a heartbreaking scene, watching my past self crumble under the weight of his grandfather's rejection. He had been cast out like a pariah, stripped of his identity and his place in the family. Grandfather, meanwhile, just watched him leave in silence, his expression unreadable.
As I observed my past self depart through the door, I found myself reflecting on my situation once again.
My mind was replaying every mistake, every wrong decision, and every regret that I had ever experienced. The more I tried to escape these memories, the more vivid and overwhelming they became, until it felt like I was once again living in the past, reliving every painful moment.
It was a living nightmare that I was forced to endure, and I didn't know how long it would last or if I would ever wake up from it.
Initially, I thought that this dream might be depicting an afterlife, but as I observed the scene playing out before me, I was convinced that it wasn't a heavenly realm. Instead, it felt like I was in some kind of hell created specifically for me, where my mind was tormenting me by replaying every mistake and regret. All I could do was watch and bear witness to this tragedy, unable to intervene or change the outcome.
This was my personal hell, and I didn't know how much longer I could endure it.
I observed my younger self as he made his way to the door, and watched as he placed his hand on the doorknob, preparing to shut it closed.
And then, almost at the same moment that the door clicked shut—
Snap!