067. Dream (5)

In the dream, as if fleeing from reality, Owen confronted more memories.

Once again, the memories were all painful and terrible, leaving him suffering even in the dream.

He vividly remembered being locked in the attic, beaten by his mother with a cane, and bruised and wounded during sword training with his father. It all felt so real, as if he were living it again, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Even as the young boy grew older, the violence continued. The boy, who had endured the repeated abuse from his childhood, never even thought of fighting back. He was always beaten with the cane, and he never dodged the merciless swings of the wooden sword.

Even when the wooden sword was replaced with a real one during training, he continued to get cut and injured.

—Why don’t you dodge the sword, you fool?

*Slap.*

His father struck him across the face. Unsatisfied, he grabbed the boy by the hair and threatened him.

—If you keep getting hit by the sword, you’ll die. If you fight other knights like that, you’ll end up dead.

Then, his father summoned the Verdun family knights and forced the boy to duel them.

It was brutal training, far too harsh for a twelve-year-old boy.

The child gritted his teeth, desperately parrying blows to survive.

To his father, it might have been just a small scare tactic, but to the boy, it was a matter of life and death.

—That’s how you should do it.

Though the boy barely survived the brutal training, no praise followed.

Instead, his father simply called for the priest to heal his wounds.

—Why are you so quiet? Other children from noble families are affectionate with their parents.

His mother had said that to him when he was twelve.

It was a cruel remark.

How could a child grow up affectionate and gentle in the face of such abuse?

It was a miracle he hadn’t turned completely twisted from all the trauma.

—You’re useless. I’ve told you time and again, you must become the perfect head of the family.

His mother’s hand lightly touched his cheek, and the boy flinched.

It was an instinctive reaction from the many times she had slapped him.

Seeing this, his mother frowned.

—Ha. Did you think I was going to hit you again?

But in the end, she did slap him.

—You always disappoint me. The only thing you do that pleases me is your swordsmanship.

That might have been the moment it all began.

The moment the boy decided to devote himself to swordsmanship.

He had talent, and as he immersed himself in training, his skills improved rapidly.

Soon, the boy learned how to wield aura, and he was able to imbue his sword with an aura blade.

Then, when he was thirteen, he finally mastered sword energy.

—Release your energy.

His father gave him a brutal challenge.

—Use your sword energy to kill all the animals and plants here.

—F-Father…

The boy pleaded, but his father didn’t listen.

Tears streaming down his face, the boy released his sword energy unwillingly.

That was the first time he killed a living creature.

After that, his parents forced him to kill repeatedly.

His parents even bought new forests for him, and the boy had to destroy every living thing within them.

The boy, who had cried and trembled the first time, eventually grew numb to it as time passed.

Just as he had grown used to being left behind at the mansion during summer and winter holidays, he stopped crying, stopped feeling sad, and eventually stopped feeling joy or happiness altogether.

His face became expressionless.

The once delicate and weak child had become a full-fledged young man by the age of sixteen, no longer a child at all.

By then, he had perfected himself to meet his parents’ expectations and become the ideal head of the family.

But when the young man finally became perfect, his parents, ironically, began to harbor resentment and inferiority toward him.

Owen’s father grew envious of the boy’s growing skill in swordsmanship and martial arts. When the boy didn’t retaliate against his father’s attacks, his father took it as disrespect and lashed out in violence.

But it was a clear misunderstanding.

The boy, though he had grown stronger, was too afraid to resist the violence, having been conditioned by years of abuse. The fear ingrained in him since childhood was something his father couldn’t understand.

—What’s the use of being perfect on the outside? You can’t even hide your cold, empty heart…

His mother would pour her complaints and resentment onto the boy.

She hated the boy’s cold and emotionless face, his indifferent voice, and his lack of expression. Ironically, it was all a result of what she and her husband had put him through, though they were oblivious to that fact.

In the end, all they left the boy with were scars—both emotional and physical—up until that summer when he turned seventeen.

[That’s enough for today.]

The sequence of memories faded, and a voice spoke.

It was a familiar voice.

It was… him.

[This is the first time we’ve met like this. Before, I only appeared in fragments of memories.]

It was Owen. The real Owen, not him.

“You…”

Owen’s eyes trembled.

He had thought that the soul was gone.

But perhaps that wasn’t the case.

[There’s no need to look at me like that. I’m not here to take back my body.]

“…That’s not it. And besides, didn’t you lose your body? You’re the one who was taken over.”

[Well, it didn’t feel that way to me. Maybe it was just my imagination.]

At Owen’s response, the original Owen calmly retorted.

Owen fell silent. Because he knew it was true.

[It seems like you were dragged into this as well.]

“…That’s right.”

[Then what’s the point of resenting each other? It’s a waste of time.]

The cold, emotionless eyes of the original Owen seemed unfamiliar to him.

The person standing before him looked so familiar, yet the lack of expression on his face was strange.

He had likely lost his emotions bit by bit, just as the memories had shown.

[You seem confused, so I’ll clarify. I didn’t just lend you my memories and experiences. What’s happening now is something more like… a transfer.]

“A transfer…?”

Owen mumbled, confused by the unfamiliar term, and the original Owen elaborated.

[Yes. To put it more simply, I’m being absorbed into you. Our souls are merging.]

“…Is that… alright?”

Owen asked, unsure of what to make of the revelation.

Merging souls couldn’t be something simple or without consequence. It meant that two individuals were becoming one. Was such a thing even possible? And if so, was it truly safe?

Owen wasn’t sure, and neither was the original Owen.

[It’ll be difficult for you. You’ll have to take on all my trauma, emotions, and memories.]

“Then what about you…?”

[I’ll likely absorb your memories too, at least in theory. But in the end, it’s just two souls merging into one. The one with the stronger will and presence will take the lead.]

“….”

In other words, it was a form of absorption.

One person would disappear, becoming part of the other.

[You’re probably wondering if this is really necessary, but if we don’t do this, you won’t be able to stay in this body.]

“That’s…”

It was true.

This body originally belonged to him. There was no way Owen, an outsider, could win against that.

[And I have no real desire to fight for it.]

“Desire?”

[You could also call it the will to live.]

“….”

Of course.

With a life like that, it would be strange for him to desire a future or seek peace.

A wave of guilt washed over Owen.

If he hadn’t come here—if the original Owen had been able to stay with Bella—then maybe he could have found peace and happiness.

It felt like he had stolen the original Owen’s happiness and right to live.

Perhaps that was true.

[Whatever you’re thinking, stop digging yourself into a hole.]

“That’s…”

[And stop looking so guilty. This is what I want.]

“….”

[I’m going to give you all my memories and experiences. My soul will merge into yours. You will be you, but also me.]

If he did that, Owen could remain in this place.

He would become the real Owen, completely and utterly.

With his memories, experiences, and emotions all intact.

“But…”

But was that really the right thing to do?

Could he really live someone else’s life and claim that happiness and peace as his own?

[…I don’t understand you.]

The original Owen sighed as he watched him hesitate.

Frowning slightly, he continued.

[There’s no need for guilt. You take what you want. I’m helping you of my own free will.]

“….”

[I’m not sacrificing myself for you. Do you understand?]

“…Yes.”

Owen nodded slowly.

He realized that feeling guilt and regret wouldn’t help. He was selfish enough to take advantage of the opportunity offered to him.

Even if it meant someone else would suffer, as long as it led to his happiness and that of those he cared for, Owen would take that chance.

[You say you understand, but your face says otherwise…]

As Owen mulled over his thoughts, the original Owen muttered.

Sighing deeply, he spoke again.

[The only reason I kept living was because I believed I had to be the perfect head of the family. By now, you understand why that was the case.]

Owen nodded.

The original Owen met his gaze and continued.

[But now there’s someone else who can take that role. Why should I go through the trouble anymore?]

“….”

[You’re more than capable of being the ‘perfect head,’ and beyond that, you possess something I don’t.]

“I don’t think I have anything like that…”

Not understanding, Owen trailed off, and the original Owen responded simply.

[You’re able to empathize with and understand others’ emotions. Unlike me, who grew up in such a way that I couldn’t.]

Was that truly a talent?

Owen thought for a moment but still wasn’t sure. Seeing his confusion, the original Owen elaborated.

[It’s not just about leading the Verdun family well. It means you’ll be able to care for the people within it, too.]

“I see.”

[And it seems you get along well with Lady Edelte. In that way, you’re much better off than I was, constantly being lectured by my retainers over the issue of succession.]