EVAN'S POV

　　I knew I was hallucinating, but it felt so real. I stood at the place where my nightmare and a piece of my heart resided—the resting place of my father. The air was thick with memories, both painful and precious. The ground was cold beneath my feet, and a chill ran through me as I took in the familiar surroundings.

　　I took a deep breath and stepped forward, unsure of what awaited me in this hallucination. Every step felt heavy, weighed down by the past and the uncertainty of what was to come. I just hoped I could find Lydia soon.

　　As I walked through the eerie silence, I felt a presence behind me. I turned, half expecting to see my father, but instead, I found myself face to face with my younger self. The younger me looked up, eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion.

　　"Who are you?" my younger self asked, voice trembling.

　　"I-what are you doing here?" I questioned my younger self.

　　"You answer first." He argued, and I smiled. This was totally me—scared but someone who would put up a strong front.

　　"I am Ev—" I started to say but stopped, realizing that he wouldn't understand because he was just a kid. I was too young when I realized that I had to grow up fast, because my father wanted me to. He wanted me to be better than Brandon, better than him, better than everyone in the kingdom, but I was too young and weak and felt like a nobody.

　　"I-I am just a traveler. I came here by mistake. Now you answer my question, what are you doing here?" I questioned again.

　　"I am hiding, I guess," he murmured.

　　"Hiding from who?" I asked again. I didn't remember any of this from my past. Yes, I used to hide from everyone, but not here.

　　"Evan, where are you? You are late for today's training session," I heard my father's voice and saw him running towards my younger self. I was shocked for a moment and couldn't face him, so I hid away from him.

　　My younger self froze, eyes wide with fear as my father approached. His stern face was a mirror of the nightmares I had tried so hard to forget.

　　"There you are!" My father's voice was harsh. "Do you think you can shirk your responsibilities? You need to be strong, Evan. You need to be better."

　　Young Evan looked down, his small frame trembling. "I'm sorry, Father."

　　"Sorry isn't good enough. You need to toughen up!" My father's voice was relentless.

　　My younger self and I both screamed as we witnessed our father being stabbed to death once again. It was as if I was reliving the pain of losing him all over again.

　　"No!"

　　"No!"

　　We both shouted in anguish and ran towards him, but it was already too late. He fell to the ground, lifeless.

　　"No, father, please don't—don't leave me again. I promise I'll be good. I'll try my best to be a better warrior, the beta, anything you want," I pleaded, but he was already gone. His cold body was concrete evidence that no matter what I said or how much I cried, I had failed again.

　　"Hmm… Pathetic!" I heard a familiar voice and stood up in an instant.

　　"Brandon?" I questioned in shock.

　　"Stop!" I shouted, my voice trembling with desperation. The air around us seemed to grow heavier with tension, as the hallucination of Brandon tightened his grip on the dagger, the blade pressing dangerously against Lydia's neck. Her eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against his hold.

　　"Look at you," Brandon sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Begging like a child, unable to protect the ones you love. You're weak, Evan. You've always been weak."

　　My fists clenched, my anger boiling over. This wasn't Brandon. My brother would never say these things. He would never hurt Lydia. "This isn't you, Brandon. My brother would never do this," I said, my voice shaking but resolute.

　　The hallucination's eyes narrowed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, wouldn't I?" he taunted, his grip on the dagger tightening. "I've always been better than you, and you know it. Father knew it too."

　　"You're wrong," I said, my voice growing stronger. "Even if I wasn't better than you, I was good enough to be the beta of the kingdom. If I weren't capable, then King Rufus wouldn't have chosen me."

　　"He chose you out of courtesy," Brandon spat, his voice filled with venom. "You didn't deserve this title. You've never deserved anything but pity."

　　I could feel my claws beginning to extend, my wolf fighting to break free. I didn't want to hurt him, even if he was just a manifestation of my fears. He was still my brother.

　　"See? Even now, you're holding yourself back," he said, his voice taunting. "You can't even fight for yourself. You're a coward, Evan."

　　The words stung, but they also fueled my anger. "Brother…I am not afraid of you, but I simply don't want to fight you," I said, my voice steadying. I took a deep breath, trying to control the rage bubbling inside me.