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
“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’s bruised knuckles twitched slightly, but his face remained expressionless.
“Now,” his father continued, his tone shifting slightly, though the chill in it remained. “Get ready for this weekend. I have news.”
Nathan’s eyebrows lifted slightly—not in curiosity, but in acknowledgment.
“I’m going to marry a woman,” his father said, each word delivered with clinical precision. “She’s an American-Spanish actress. You might have heard of her. She has two children—one boy, one girl. They’ll be part of this family soon.”
The statement carried no warmth, no excitement. It was merely a declaration, a new fact for Nathan to absorb and adapt to.
“I don’t want a single unsightly behavior from you during this weekend. Do you understand?”
Nathan fell silent, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions he dared not show.
Another woman.
It hadn’t even been a year since his father’s previous wife, Akane’s and Ayaka’s mother, had passed away. Her warmth and kindness still lingered in Nathan’s memory, though they felt more like a dream now. Yet here his father stood, cold and detached, announcing another marriage as if it were merely a business transaction.
The memories of Akane and Ayaka—their frightened eyes staring at him as if he were a monster—rushed to the surface. He could still feel the weight of their gazes, the way they had recoiled from him, and now, the prospect of yet more siblings was being thrust upon him. His fists clenched at his sides, but he remained composed.
“Your answer,” his father demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Nathan’s lips parted, though the words felt heavy, like stones tumbling from his mouth. “Yes, Father.”
“Good.”
His father turned to leave, the echo of his polished shoes punctuating the stillness. But Nathan, unable to suppress the storm brewing inside him, called out.
“Father.”
The man stopped, turning back with an impatient glare. “Don’t waste my time.”
Nathan hesitated, but his heart screamed for answers. The words escaped him before he could reconsider.
“Was Mother just another woman?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge, daring his father to deny it, to show even a flicker of humanity. Nathan had always believed his mother was different—that she was his father’s first love, the one woman who had ever mattered to him. He had clung to the idea that his father’s brokenness stemmed from losing her. But now…
Now, doubt was seeping into every corner of his mind.
His father’s reply was curt, devoid of emotion. “Obviously.”
Nathan’s fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. He couldn’t understand. His mother had loved him, he was sure of it. He could still see her gentle smile in the fleeting, half-forgotten memories of his childhood. So why? Why was his father marrying again, collecting women as if they were objects?
“You see, Nathan,” his father began, his tone chillingly casual, as if he were discussing an investment strategy. “In this world, to survive, you must take everything you can. If you have power, you use it. You take. And you don’t stop taking.”
He stepped closer, his presence looming over Nathan like a dark shadow. “Women are one of those things. Nature blessed them with the divine ability to give birth to life. That’s why I find them the most interesting subjects in this world.”
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?”