Nathan was dreaming.

    All the pain he was feeling following Diomedes''s attack powered by Poseidon had been amplified by Nathan''s own breaking body so maybe that''s why he was having some kind of dreams of the past.

    He was staring in the living room of his house

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    "What happened, Nathan?"

    The voice was sharp, precise, and carried a cold authority that made even the air around them seem heavier. The speaker, a tall and impeccably groomed man, stood in the doorway. His dark hair, slicked back with precision, glistened faintly under the harsh light of the room. His tailored suit was flawless, from the neatly pressed cuffs to the polished shoes that reflected the dim surroundings. Even his posture was a statement—rigid, commanding, and unyielding.

    His dark eyes bore into the figure of a young boy, who looked more like a shadow of himself.

    Nathan knew who it was.

    It was none other than himself, just a year older—at eleven.

    The boy standing before the man had a battered appearance. His uniform was torn in places, his knuckles bruised and crusted with dried blood, and his face held a blank, almost lifeless expression. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as if the floor was the only thing that offered him any solace.

    The man''s eyes swept over Nathan, his lips curling slightly in a look of thinly veiled disgust.

    "I fought," Nathan said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

    "Look at me when I speak to you."

    Nathan''s head snapped up immediately, his gaze meeting his father''s. The older man''s cold, piercing stare seemed to cut through him like a blade.

    "Who did you fight?" the man asked, his tone icy and unrelenting.

    "Three people. They were seniors at my middle school," Nathan replied. His voice remained even, as though recounting something as mundane as the weather. "They tried to take the money you gave me."

    The words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken. It wasn''t the first time. Nathan was no stranger to these encounters. Everyone at school knew who he was—the son of wealth and power. He was a solitary figure, someone most kept their distance from, but that didn''t stop those more brazen from testing their luck.

    His upperclassmen had learned the hard way.

    "Did you win?" his father asked, his expression still cold, though his dark eyes narrowed slightly, searching Nathan''s face for an answer.

    Nathan didn''t hesitate. "Two of them are in the hospital. The other... I don''t know. The school summoned you, Father."

    There was no remorse in his voice, no pride either—just facts.

    The school''s director had called, of course. How could they not? But the man before Nathan didn''t react with outrage or concern. Instead, a faint, nearly imperceptible nod of approval flickered across his face. He wasn''t a man who praised openly, but Nathan had been raised to recognize the signs.

    "Good," his father finally said, his voice clipped. "I''ll deal with the director."

    Nathan said nothing. He didn''t understand. He didn''t want to understand.

    His father grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look up. The grip was firm, almost painful, and Nathan''s eyes widened slightly at the sudden, forceful contact.

    "Look at me, Nathan," his father commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding.

    Nathan''s gaze locked with his father''s, and he felt the weight of those dark, unrelenting eyes pressing down on him.

    "Women are powerful weapons," his father continued, his tone chillingly deliberate. "They can be used however you want, whenever you want, until you are satisfied. Always put yourself above everyone else. If one of them even dares to think of harming you..."

    The man''s eyes darkened further, his expression twisting into something frighteningly cruel. "...you make them pay a thousandfold. Hurt them until they regret even considering it. Women don''t deserve your mercy. Break them until they submit. And if they''re no longer useful, discard them. That is how the world works, Nathan. If you have my blood running through your veins, you''ll understand that. Do you?"

    Nathan''s chest felt heavy, his breath shallow. His father''s words sliced through him, leaving behind an emptiness he couldn''t quite name.

    His eyes, already dulled by the weight of his life, seemed to darken further. The faint flicker of happiness he had found living with Akane and Ayaka—a fragile, fleeting thing—had been extinguished entirely. He nodded slowly, the motion mechanical, lifeless.

    "Yes, Father."

    The man released him, stepping back as if the conversation had been no more significant than a lecture on manners. Nathan stood frozen, his body rigid and his mind reeling.

    His father left without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. Nathan remained where he was, staring at nothing, the crushing emptiness within him expanding until it threatened to consume him entirely.

    Nathan stared at his younger self with an expression that defied interpretation—a mixture of detachment, bitterness, and something almost resembling pity.

    The scene before him, vivid and unrelenting, was burned into his memory. He remembered it all too well. Then again, he remembered every moment with his father perfectly.

    His father''s words, his teachings, his twisted philosophy—each one carved into the very fabric of Nathan''s mind, impossible to erase no matter how much he wished otherwise. Those lessons, brutal and unyielding, were the foundation upon which much of his early life had been built.

    Yet the memories he truly wanted to hold on to, the ones of his mother and the fleeting moments of happiness he had shared with her, seemed to slip away like grains of sand through his fingers. Those recollections were soft and fragile, their edges blurred, as if his mind itself conspired to rob him of the comfort they might bring.

    His gaze shifted as his thoughts spiraled inward. What happened after this? Nathan wondered, though he already knew the answer.

    "I remember," he muttered to himself. "I met those siblings."

    They had been the last step-siblings to enter his life before Sienna and Siara. That chapter, brief and tumultuous, marked a turning point.

    A certain incident with that stepfamily had changed him irrevocably. Afterward, he became the man who had walked the halls of high school—a cold, detached figure who viewed women as less than trophies. They weren''t people; they were objects, acquisitions to be possessed, displayed, and discarded. Exactly the way his father had wanted him to see them.

    His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered how far he had fallen into the image his father had crafted for him. But now...

    Now, without his father''s constant shadow looming over him, Nathan knew he had changed.

    And it wasn''t just the absence of his father that had shifted his perspective. The disappearance of Khione had forced him to confront feelings he had long denied. Losing her had been like losing a part of himself, and it was only then that he realized what she had truly meant to him. She hadn''t been a trophy; she had been Khione.

    Amelia''s absence, along with others who had once stood beside him, had also left its mark. Each departure had chipped away at the walls his father had built around his heart.

    "What would Father think of the current me?"