---
It seemed she needed to speed things up. Throughout the month, Mia hadn't exactly been quiet. She had shaken the industry. Popular companies and well-known artists were all trying to buy her songs. Her novel had been published and already adapted—one was sold to a famous director, the other turned into a manga that was quickly snatched up.
She also opened a salon—no, a beauty empire. It specialized in nail art, hairstyling, and spa treatments, and it was already the talk of the city. Appointments were rare and highly sought after. Even men were fighting for a spot. The results were undeniable—shining skin, youthful glow, smooth faces. It wasn't beauty; it was transformation.
Meanwhile, Mike had turned into a rising star. He joined both a singing and dancing competition, and now had over a hundred thousand followers. A true young idol in the making.
> "It seems I need to spread my wings if I want to stand equal to these people. If not, I'll be buried alive," Mira muttered, scratching her chin.
> "Why are you talking to yourself again?" Mike asked as he came downstairs, staring at her like she was a TV character. He was already used to seeing her talk to herself sometimes.
> "Nothing, just thinking. Anyway, didn't a director ask us to be on a variety show? I'm thinking of accepting. He's famous, and it'll help your career," Mia said thoughtfully.
> "Sure, whatever. I scream, you scream, we all scream—ice cream!" Mike chanted quickly.
> "I'm first! That means you're eating my choice of food today, and I'm not doing the chores," Mike smirked victoriously.
> "That's cheating!" Mia protested.
> "Nope. You made the rules. Next time, be ready. Aren't you the one who taught me this game?" Mike teased as he walked into the kitchen to tell the nanny what to cook.
> "Tsk. I told you it would backfire on you, and it just did," Dumpling chuckled.
> "Shut up, Dumpling. Look at you—your head's disappearing into your fat body. I haven't tried cat soup before, you know," Mia said with a smile that clearly wasn't one.
> "You chose the game, Mia. You have to follow the rules you set," Maria's ghost said calmly.
> "Of course you'd side with your precious son. Traitor," Mia muttered, giving her ghostly former self a disdainful glance.
She sighed, remembering what caused this ridiculous game in the first place.
---
One Month Ago
> "What kind of food is this?" Mike asked, staring at the porridge like it was radioactive.
> "I'm not feeling well, and this is good for the body," Mia replied calmly. "So I figured we should both eat it."
> "You're the one who's sick, not me. This is disgusting. I'm not eating this," Mike said, scooping the porridge and dumping it back into the pot.
> "That's goat heart porridge. The nanny said it's good for circulation," Mia explained, unfazed. "And you eat what I eat. I'm the parent. You either eat it now, or later—but you're still going to eat it. Unless you want to start buying and cooking your own meals?"
> "I'm not eating this. Why should I be forced to eat something I don't like?" Mike said, growing irritated.
> "Then don't eat. But once you're hungry again, that's the only food waiting for you—morning, noon, or night. Should I pack it for school?" Mia asked with a sweet, threatening smile.
Mike glared, ate the food angrily, and stormed off.
> "Okay, Mia, go apologize," Dumpling suggested.
> "Apologize? For what? Teaching him discipline?" Mia rolled her eyes. "That porridge is just his excuse to avoid healthy food."
Later that night, the nanny knocked on her door.
> "Mike's refusing to eat," she said.
> "Leave him. He'll eat when he's starving," Mia replied.
That midnight, Mia walked into the kitchen.
> "I smell a rat… a big, ugly rat," she said softly. "Come out, or I'll drag you out."
Just as she turned to leave, she doubled back and yanked Mike from under the dining table.
> "AH! You scared the hell outta me!" Mike shouted, clutching his chest.
> "I'm the one with heart issues, not you," Mia snorted.
> "I thought you didn't want to eat. But look at you now," she said, watching him silently eat the porridge.
> "How about this?" she said suddenly. "The first one to finish saying 'I scream, you scream, we all scream, ice cream!' gets to choose what we eat next time."
Mike tilted his head. "Deal."
> "Now let's go make something better. Leftovers and fruit aren't cutting it," Mia said, heading to the fridge.
> "Tsk. They really look like mother and son," Maria's ghost whispered.
> "A terrible mother and son," Dumpling added. "Neither can cook, both can scheme, and instead of Mia stopping her evil path, it looks like she's training a better villain."
> "A kid in his class tried to frame him for stealing by planting a phone in his bag. Your son put on a full performance—used his looks, cried, got the whole class to side with him, girls and boys included. When the boys tried to beat him and lock him in a room, he beat the hell out of them. The teacher called the principal. And what did Mia do when she got there?"
> "She asked if Mike was hurt," Dumpling said in disbelief. "Then told him to be more discreet next time. To use these kinds of events to his advantage. Told him not to let anyone know it's him behind it all."
In the kitchen, Mia and Mike were now throwing flour at each other. The food looked like a chemical experiment gone wrong. And yet, the two of them were laughing like they hadn't a care in the world.
---
Thanks for the clear direction! Below is your original draft, fully preserved in your words, but I've edited for better punctuation, grammar, clarity, and smooth flow while keeping the tone calm, emotional, and unrushed as you requested. I've added a few side character lines in Mike's class and inserted some light internal emotion or reaction descriptions to deepen the tone. Nothing is rushed or overdone.
---
The next day, Mia accepted the offer for the variety show, then dropped Mike at his school as usual.
"Brother, let me help you!" a girl said cheerfully.
"No, let me help you!" another girl argued.
Soon, more girls gathered around, all eager to carry Mike's bag or walk beside him. But Mike just walked to his class calmly, ignoring the fuss, and sat down at his desk without a word. His expression didn't change—he looked used to this.
"Mike, is your family seriously wealthy?" a boy asked, scratching his head awkwardly. "I heard you live in that estate… you know, the one only really rich people live in? My dad's company is worth a million, and even we can't live there."
Mike tilted his head slightly, not even looking at him.
"Hmm… not that wealthy. Almost there," he said casually, his voice low and unbothered.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He was thinking about how his mom knew how to hack—and how he should ask her to teach him. He'd seen her hack into an account before, completely calm, as if it were nothing. Since then, he'd wanted to learn.
Anyway, the money he used nowadays wasn't just from acting. His mom gave him some, yes. But a lot came from investments—he had secretly bought shares using her account and even picked stocks from his past life that he knew would blow up. He was careful, calculating. Smart with money. A reborn soul hiding in a seven-year-old body.
"Chris, can you teach me math? It's sooo hard. I don't know how to solve this," a girl with big, round eyes said as she sat on his desk, blinking at him.
"Kira… didn't you win the math competition last month?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "And every math competition in this school? You always participate. So how do you not know this math now?"
"Of course she just wants to win Brother Mike's heart and spend time with him," Mike's seatmate muttered with a sigh.
Smack!
Kira smacked the back of his head without hesitation.
"I don't know math anymore!" Kira said dramatically, pressing her hands to her chest. "Your beauty makes my brain go blank! So you have to be responsible and teach me. You will do this for me, right?" she said, blinking again with exaggerated innocence.
Mike's lip twitched.
Seriously… kids these days already know how to rizz.
If he hadn't been reborn, maybe he would've blushed like a child. But now, he was a twenty-four-year-old soul, stuck in a seven-year-old body. Of course, he wouldn't fall for that. If he did, he'd basically be a pedophile.
He sighed softly and gently patted Kira's head.
"Be good. Go read by yourself, okay?"
"…Aww," Kira pouted, hopping off his desk.
"I told you he's too mature," one of the other girls whispered to her friend.
"Yeah, but isn't that what makes him attractive?" another muttered with a dreamy sigh.
Mike ignored it all
"Wow, did he pat your head? I'm so jealous. Mike doesn't even spare me a glance," a girl said, pouting.
"That's because he knows who's best for him. And also, I was the one who voted for him in his competition and even made a fan group for him in school. So, of course, he'll be close to me," Kira said as she spun her pen proudly.
"Or you bugged him so much like a bridge screaming in his ear," another girl mumbled, making her friend laugh.
They flinched when Kira hit the table.
"Do you want to die?" Kira asked, tilting her head at them.
Her eyes were sharp and steady — calm like still water but holding a glint of irritation underneath. Her expression stayed composed, but there was an unmistakable edge in her gaze, like a quiet warning hiding in plain sight.
The girls shut up and lowered their gazes.
"I thought as much. You didn't say anything," Kira said flatly. "And I don't want to hear my name from your mouths again. So annoying," she mumbled, rolling her eyes.
The girls shifted topics quickly, now gossiping about the new gifts their dads had bought them or the vacation trips they took over break.
"Brother Mike, do you want to come to my house today? We have the new virtual game. My dad said if I did well, he'd buy it for me," Mike's seatmate said eagerly.
"Your dad still bought you the game set? I thought he wouldn't since you got 12th position," a boy nearby said.
"Hmph, my mom bought it," his seatmate replied. "At least I improved from 15th to 12th. My dad wanted to put me in extra classes, but I refused. I'm already tired of seeing so many books. I mentioned Mike's name — that he came to the school and got first place and that he's my friend and teaches me — so my dad ended up buying me another game set," he added proudly.
"So you're just riding on Brother Mike's tail," another boy muttered from the front row. "Anyway, Mike won't play the game with you. Did you forget? He does night classes and extra training," said Leo, raising an eyebrow.
"Brother Mike, is that true?" Chris, his seatmate, asked curiously.
"Hmm. I did," Mike replied calmly, taking out his lollipop. "I joined a karate class, other fighting classes, and also some language classes. But I don't attend all the time. My mom said I shouldn't stress myself too much. She offered to hire home lesson teachers... but I don't want them."
--
Meanwhile: The Buzz Around Love Me, Leave Me, Find Me
The variety show Love Me, Leave Me, Find Me was already gathering major hype. Announcements were being made. Everyone wanted to know which families would be attending. The show's name alone was enough to stir up curiosity.
It wasn't just the title. The director was famous—very famous. His shows were known for being dramatic, raw, full of love, pain, and chaos. And with sponsors like a big television and media company, a top entertainment label, and several powerful investors, the show was already expected to be a hit.
The only reason Mia could join was because of her growing popularity—her music, her producing talent, and her scripts. One of her scripts had even ended up in the hands of the director. How? Well… Dumpling had "accidentally" dropped the script onto the director's laptop while searching for snacks. It wasn't meant to happen. But the script did its job. It impressed him.
And of course, there was Mike.
Mike wasn't just a cute kid. He was already becoming a star. Fans loved his quiet charm, his handsome little face, and his natural acting talent. Having him in the show was bound to attract attention.
---