Memories come flooding back.
Most of them are from my previous life.
The days following my motherâs departure. I see myself gradually falling apart.
Breaking things, throwing tantrums. Bullying the servants relentlessly.
The wretched days when Iâd scream over trivial matters.
The version of me that couldnât accept anyoneâs concern or even my own feelings, seeing only malice in everything.
As I deteriorated day by day, someone was watching me from afar.
"Father?"
I was crouched down, drying out like a withering plant, unsure if I was sobbing or angry. From a distance, my father stood watching.
When was this memory from? I couldnât tell. It was hard even to call it my memory.
I hadnât known this moment existed.
If not a memory, then perhaps an illusion? That seemed logical, but it didnât feel right.
So, was it truly a memory? A memory I wasnât aware of?
"Why?"
Why was this resurfacing now? I couldnât understand.
And furthermoreâ
"Why does he have that expression?"
Why was my father looking at me like that? He usually wore the same impassive face, but this was different.
What kind of look was this?
Hatred, or perhaps disdain? I had always assumed those were the only emotions he held toward me back then.
But now, his eyes appeared differentâcalm and expressionless, yet tinged with worry.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
Worry? My father, worrying about me?
He didnât approach but stood at a distance, his hands and feet hesitating, as if debating whether to come closer.
After staring at me for a long time, he finally closed his eyes tightly and turned away.
Why?
Why didnât he come closer? Why did he turn back with that expression?
I couldnât understand anything.
And then, suddenly, the scene shifted.
When was this? Judging by my appearance, it seemed to be around the time I became the successor.
Ah, I think I know.
It was probably shortly after I rose to the position of Successor.