The Ancient Imperial Calendar, Year 1819
Ricardo opened his eyes in the palace of the Ancient Empire. The traces of indifference and weariness were now evident in his gaze.
"Alright, where am I this time?"
Ricardo stood up and first looked at his face in the mirror.
"Hmm, it seems to be a period from my previous life again. My appearance from my twenties, I suppose. What year is it, anyway?"
There was a knock at the door.
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince, may I enter?"
That voice belonged to Peter, the Emperor's personal servant.
"You may enter, Peter."
Peter opened the door and stepped inside.
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince, I offer my respects. I am afraid I bring you unfortunate news, Your Highness. Your father, His Majesty the Ancient Emperor Clovis IV, is deteriorating. The doctors say there is no longer any hope of recovery. Your father, His Majesty the Ancient Emperor, wishes to see you one last time before he closes his eyes forever."
Ricardo understood from Peter's words which period he was in.
It was the year 745, the year his father, the 43rd Ancient Emperor Clovis IV, died and he himself ascended the throne.
This was the beginning of the 50-year reign of Harloumen VIII, who ascended the throne at the age of 20 in this year, until his assassination at the age of 70 in 795.
Ricardo looked at Peter silently for a while, lost in thought.
"I think I understand why I was sent back to this date. I had spoken terrible words to my father before his death. I had broken his heart and did not allow him to die in peace."
Clovis was a bad father.
He had left the care of his children to their mothers and stewards.
This situation intensified the intrigues and power struggles within the Palace.
During this period, Harloumen had faced countless assassination attempts and mortal dangers, and had been forced to kill his own beloved siblings with his own hands.
He had vowed to vent his rage on his father, to kill him if he could, or if not, to make his life a living hell, or if even that failed, to pour out all his fury upon him as he lay on his deathbed.
"I always hated my father. I never felt a moment of regret for the things I said on his deathbed, and I never will."
Ricardo had arrived in front of the Emperor's chamber. He turned to the guards at the door and gave the order.
"Open the door."
The guards opened the door and made way for Ricardo.
Ricardo entered the room and came face to face with his dying father once more. He thought for a moment.
"How many years has it been, Father? If I'm not miscalculating, it must be 74 years. If we don't count the centuries in between, of course."
Clovis was barely able to open his eyes. His breathing was uncontrolled, deep, and frequent. It was clear death could come at any moment.
Clovis tried to look at Ricardo with tired, pain-filled eyes. He spoke in a broken voice.
"My son..."
Ricardo cut off his father before he could begin speaking. He was filled with rage. He leaned in close to his head and unleashed his fury once again.
"Shut your mouth! I am not your son, you despicable bastard! You are an unworthy, indifferent, parasitic, spineless wretch who doesn't deserve to be called 'father' or to call your children 'my son' or 'my daughter'. I hate you so much, I am so disgusted by you, that even now I am barely restraining myself from smashing your head to pieces. You'd better die right now, or else I will make you suffer such immense pain that all of mankind will bleed from their ears from your screams."
Clovis was overcome with tears. He was in agony, suffering from the pain of hearing his own child spew such immense hatred towards him.
He had so much he wanted to say. To apologize, to embrace, to kneel and beg for forgiveness. But his illness permitted none of it.
More than his illness, the words he heard from his son had multiplied his suffering a thousandfold, and he died in agony.
Ricardo, however, continued to vent his rage.
"I wish you hadn't died so easily. I wish you had lived a little longer so I could have insulted you even more."
The white light flashed again. Ricardo had grown accustomed to this situation and didn't even react.
"Damn it, what's left now?"