Childhood Friend of the Zenith Novel MTL - Chapter 863

Chapter 863

Memories wash over me in a sudden tide.
Most are from the life I lived before.
The time after my mother left. I watch myself slowly unravel.
Shattering objects, flying into rages. Tormenting the household staff without mercy.
Those miserable days where I would shriek over the smallest of things.
That version of me who could accept no one’s worry, not even my own feelings, perceiving only ill will in every glance.
As I decayed a little more each day, someone was observing me from a distance.
«Father?»
I was hunched over, desiccating like a dying plant, uncertain if I was weeping or simply furious. My father stood there, watching from afar.
When did this happen? I couldn’t tell. It was difficult to even claim it as my own memory.
I never knew this moment had occurred.
If not a memory, then maybe a delusion? That seemed the rational answer, yet it didn’t feel correct.
So, was it real? A memory I had simply been unaware of?
«Why?»
Why was this coming back to me now? I couldn’t comprehend it.
And more than that—
«Why does he have that expression?»
Why was my father looking at me that way? He typically wore the same unreadable mask, but this was different.
What was this look?
Hatred, or maybe contempt? I had always believed those were the only things he felt for me in those days.
But now, his eyes seemed altered—composed and blank, yet shaded with concern.
Concern? My father, concerned about me?
He didn’t come nearer, but stood at a remove, his hands and feet shifting uncertainly, as if wrestling with the decision to approach.
After observing me for a long while, he finally shut his eyes tight and turned his back.
Why?
Why didn’t he come closer? Why did he walk away with that look on his face?
I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
And then, abruptly, the memory changed.
When was this? Judging by how I looked, it seemed to be around the time I was named the successor.
Ah, I think I recognize this.
It was likely not long after I had ascended to the position of Successor.
«You still haven’t composed yourself. How long do you plan to carry on like this?»
My father’s face, unusually angry, was right in front of me.
Why was he so furious? While I could place the timing, I couldn’t recall the specific cause.
Then again, he had been angry with me plenty of times after I became the successor.
To his reprimand, I had responded by pushing out my lips in a pout.
«Why? Are you suddenly planning to start acting like a father?»
Even to myself, I looked unbearably insolent.
How could I have made such a face? And, before my change, my features were even less pleasant.
«Why bother with something you’ve never done? Just ignore me, like you always have.»
«…»
My father, who had been enraged just a moment before, went quiet at my words.
Back then, I was probably trembling on the inside, terrified.
But I had lashed out because I, too, was brimming with bitterness.
Even so—
«If you’re trying to play the father now, it’s too late. I don’t need it.»
That vile attitude of mine was completely without justification.
What an utter fool I was.
«…»
My father said nothing. After staring me down for a long moment, he finally spoke.
«Leave.»
He dismissed me.
«You are confined until your punitive departure for Hanam.»
«Fine. Whatever you say.»
With that defiant reply, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
What had I done to earn that punishment? What was my transgression?
I couldn’t remember. Too many incidents have blurred together.
But one thing I know now…
After I left, my father pressed a hand to his forehead and released a heavy, weary sigh.
That expression—it felt strangely recognizable.
«Why…»
Why was I being shown this?
The scene shifted once more.
This time, it was a day of rain.
My heart grew heavy. I knew immediately which day this was.
My father, bleeding profusely, lay collapsed.
His body, suddenly so fragile and old, was covered in wrinkles and white hair.
His once-vivid crimson eyes were growing dim.
This was it.
The day I killed my father with my own hands.
Our final exchange as his breathing grew shallow.
This was unmistakably that memory.
«I forgive you.»
The day my father forgave me for forcing him to raise his hand against his own child.
«Live.»
His last command to his wretched son: to live.
It was a memory I never wished to see again.
I wanted to erase it forever, so vile and unbearable it was.
If I could, I would step in and destroy that younger version of me.
«You never escaped this moment.»
The words of the Gu Flames Firewheel Technique echoed inside my head.
I understood now. I was still trapped in that moment.
The rain fell, the chilly weather soaking everything.
My father’s breath grew shallower as his lips slowly stilled.
His life was ending.
I had been kneeling there, silently watching him.
And he had been watching me in return.
My eyes widened as I witnessed the scene unfold.
Maybe it was because I had seen those earlier memories.
Finally, I realized—
«…His eyes.»
From that first memory until now, my father’s eyes as he looked at me had been the same.
I had thought they were full of disdain, anger, and hatred.
But they weren’t.
His eyes had always been filled with worry.
Why did he worry for me?
Why didn’t he hate or resent me?
Or had he never hated me to begin with?
My mind raced. If this was true in my past life, then—
«What about now?»
What kind of eyes does my father have now when he looks at me?
As I wondered, it hit me—
Ah, I had never truly looked my father in the eyes, not in my past life, and not in this one either.
That’s why I didn’t know. That’s why I couldn’t be sure.
The realization churned in my gut.
At the same time, I questioned myself.
Had I been ignorant of this? Or had I simply refused to see it?
«…The latter, most likely.»
I was certain of it.
«I hate you.»
I understood the words of the flames now.
I hated myself too.
«Why are you alive?»
I wanted to ask myself the same thing. Why was I alive?
I said it was simply because I wanted to live, but that answer felt empty.
Even knowing that, I had to live.
Or rather, I needed to live.
Why? I had struggled with the flame’s question countless times, but only now did I think I understood.
«Live.»
My father’s words resonated deep within my chest.
«Stay alive.»
«Keep living.»
«Survive.»

Words spoken to the broken me resurfaced, sticking like a thorn in my heart.
Different voices, different tones, but all carrying the same command.
Why were these words returning to me now?
It felt as though they were trying to tell me why I was still alive.
Narrow-minded and pathetic.
Remembering their words now and using them as a reason to keep going—it was disgraceful and utterly insignificant.
Was this okay?
I didn’t know.
In that moment, none of it mattered. I just… suddenly missed my father.
That single thought made my blurred vision finally clear.

*******************

*Wooong.*

My sight was clouded, and a ringing filled my ears.
The sound of tinnitus consumed my head.
All my senses seemed blocked, and a suffocating pressure closed in on me.
But it was only for a moment. Slowly, very slowly, my senses began to return.
The first was smell. Like a stuffed nose clearing, I began to detect odors.
A musty, dusty scent mixed with a faint perfume of flowers.
What was this? Why could I smell flowers?
As I puzzled over this strange combination, my sense of touch came back.
It felt oppressive. Something was coiled tightly around my body.
What now? Why did it feel so constricting?
Though I still couldn’t see, I tried to move—and just as if on command, my vision returned as well.
It was blurred at first but gradually sharpened into focus.
Finally, I identified the source of my discomfort.
I was literally being bound.
Not by ropes or chains, but by people—arms and bodies clinging to me tightly.
…So that explained the mix of dust and flowers.
The strange smell made sense now.
The musty odor came from our surroundings, but the floral scent came from those holding me.
The first thing I saw was the top of someone’s head.
Golden and white hair tangled together in a disheveled mess.
It was, unmistakably, Namgung Bi-ah and Wi Seol-ah.
They were both clinging to me with all their might.
I could feel the faint tremor of their shaking through their bodies.
Watching them quietly, I finally found my voice.
“…What are you doing?”
*Flinch!*
Both of them jolted visibly at the sound of my voice.
Then, the golden-haired Wi Seol-ah hesitantly lifted her face from where it had been buried in my chest.
When our eyes met, it was my turn to be startled.
Her face was a disaster.
Fear swam in her wide eyes, which were red and puffy from crying, tear tracks streaking down her cheeks.
“…You?”
I was about to ask why she looked like that when—
“Sniff… Hic…”
“Wha… What the hell?”
Wi Seol-ah suddenly began to cry in front of me.
And not just a few tears—her sobs were accompanied by a flood pouring down her face.
“Hey, what…!”
It was the first time I had ever seen her cry like this.
I was completely thrown, unsure of how to handle it.
But before I could even try, I realized I still couldn’t move.
*Grip.*
While Wi Seol-ah’s hold on me had loosened, Namgung Bi-ah’s grip had only intensified.
Her hands were clamped onto me with even greater force than before.
“What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
“Waaaahhh!”
It was a total catastrophe.
Now Wi Seol-ah was outright wailing, her voice rising as she clung to me.
What was I supposed to do? I needed to calm her down, but with my body restrained, there was little I could do.
Should I try to break free? That would mean using force, but—
*Fwoosh!*
“Huh?”
“Hic! Wha—!”
«…!»
The moment I thought about escaping, something changed.
My body slipped effortlessly through their grasp as if I were intangible, passing through the air itself.
The two of them, suddenly unbalanced, tumbled to the floor with a thud.
Lowering my gaze, I examined my hands.
*Fwoosh…*
They were composed of flames.
Not just my hands—though my body appeared normal, I could feel it.
If I willed it, I could transform my entire form into fire.
I didn’t understand how this was possible, but instinctively, I knew.
…I’ve attained it.
This was it.
The state granted to those who achieve the ultimate mastery of a core technique.
💥 Completion.
I had reached the pinnacle of the Gu Flames Firewheel Technique.
There was no other explanation for this sensation.
How?
How had I suddenly achieved this?
While I had brushed against the edge of this feeling, I had never fully grasped it nor made it my own.
…Could it be?
Was it because of what just happened?
The battle with the Gu Flames Firewheel Technique, which had taken my form—
Had defeating it been the final key?
It seemed the most likely reason. I couldn’t think of another.
But then—
“What’s with this?”
Not only my body, but the flames themselves had changed.
*Fwoosh—!!*
The undulating flame that bloomed from my hand…
It wasn’t the black fire of demonic energy.
Nor was it the blue flame I had gained through my transformation.
It was a white fire—a brilliantly radiant white flame.