Odyssey of the Re-Life Leveling Up

The scent of sizzling kimchi and the comforting aroma of seaweed soup filled the air as I stepped out of my room. The contrast between the organized chaos of my personal space and the immaculate living room was almost jarring. My room was a disaster zone — clothes strewn everywhere, books piled haphazardly, and a distinct lack of visible floor space. But out here, everything was pristine, as if someone had waved a magic wand and restored order.

I found my mom setting the table for breakfast, humming a tune I vaguely recognized from my childhood. It was a simple melody, a lullaby she used to sing to me when I was little — a comforting reminder of simpler times. Her voice, though soft, carried a warmth that made the apartment feel more like home.

"Now, sit and eat," she said warmly, glancing up at me with that familiar, gentle smile that always had the power to melt away any tension. Her hands moved deftly, arranging the dishes with a practiced grace.

I took my seat, the chair creaking slightly under me, and started on my breakfast. The food was amazing — just as I remembered. It had been so long since I'd tasted my mom's cooking. Memories flooded back as I recalled her six-month business trip overseas and how, in a panic before her return, I'd scrambled to clean the house. On that day, I'd been crushed by a falling billboard — an absurd, tragic end. Yet, here I was now, savoring her fresh cooking. I couldn't explain the second chance I'd been given, but I intended to make the most of it.

I let the flavors transport me back to a time when life seemed less complicated. The tangy kimchi, perfectly fermented with a spicy kick, the savory seaweed soup brimming with umami and a hint of sesame oil, and the fluffy rice cakes, slightly chewy with a sweet glaze — all of it was a testament to her culinary skill.

She sat down across from me, her expression softening as she observed me eat. "Adan, I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: you really should get out more, do some physical activities, and connect with people."

I paused mid-bite, lifting my head to meet her concerned gaze. Her eyes, usually sparkling with a mischievous glint, were now clouded with worry. She placed her chopsticks down gently, her fingers lingering on them as if she was hesitant to continue.

"If you keep shutting yourself in your room, you'll regret it later," she said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much of life's hardships. Her words stirred something inside me. I could only imagine how much stress she endured, especially after losing people she loved. And then there was me — her shut-in son who couldn't even keep his life together. What would her reaction have been if she'd received the news of my death? The thought tightened my chest, and I gripped my chopsticks harder, anger bubbling at my own selfishness.

I exhaled softly, loosening my grip, and looked up at her. "Yes, Mom, you're right," I said, my voice steady. But she didn't seem to hear me — or maybe she chose not to.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "You know, you always make excuses," she began, but then she froze, her eyes narrowing as if she'd caught me red-handed. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"I said you're right, Mom. I can't live like this anymore," I repeated, placing my hands on the table for emphasis. My expression was serious, and I hoped she'd see I meant it this time.

Her eyes widened, disbelief evident on her face. "Adan, are you feeling okay? Should I take you to the doctor?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm perfectly fine, Mom. What are you talking about?"

She scrutinized me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You know, whenever I told you to go outside and do something, you'd always ignore me or half-heartedly agree. This sudden change is... well, it's weird."

I chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. "I guess it is strange, huh?" Even I found it odd. But this time, I was determined to be different. Whatever the reason for my second chance, I wasn't going to waste it.

Her expression shifted, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. She leaned in closer, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's the reason?" she asked, her tone teasing.

"Reason?" I echoed, genuinely confused.

"Don't play dumb," she said, pointing a finger at me, her expression a mix of suspicion and playful accusation. "No one changes this suddenly without a reason. It's like finding your room clean all of a sudden—it's suspicious! Last time you cleaned it voluntarily was… wait, does it even happen without a natural disaster warning? You're not fooling me."

I took a sip of water, trying to buy time. "There's no particular reason, really."

"Hmmm," she hummed, her eyes narrowing like a detective piecing together a mystery. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she snapped her fingers. "Oh, I see what's going on."

"What?" I asked, startled, nearly choking on the water.

"It's like one of those anime I watched a while ago. What was it called again?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The boy is a total recluse, spends all his time playing video games. Then, one day, this vibrant, athletic girl transfers to his class. He decides to change himself to impress her. It's all very heartwarming."

The water I'd just drunk sprayed out in a fine mist. "Pfft… Cough! Cough! Mom, no! What?!"

She ignored my sputtering, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "The animation was beautiful. The music was so catchy. I even caught myself humming it the other day," she added, grinning.

"Mom," I gasped, my voice hoarse. "Please stop."

"Why? It was a good story. It taught me about self-improvement and the power of love."

"Mom, I'm not in an anime," I said firmly, shaking my head.

"But it's such a good story," she pouted, her expression resembling a disappointed child.

"I'm trying to be better for myself, not to impress some girl," I clarified, exasperated.

"Oh, come on, Adan," she teased, leaning back with a sly grin. "This reminds me of the time you tried to impress the girl next door by skateboarding. What was her name? Ah, yes, Sujin. You were so determined to show off that you ended up crashing into the flower bed. You were covered in dirt and petals, and she didn't even notice because she was too busy laughing with her friends."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Why do you always bring that up?"

"Because it's funny!" she replied, her laughter ringing through the room. "And don't get me started on how you used to line up your action figures and have full-blown conversations with them. What was it you called them? 'The League of Ultimate Justice and Pancakes'?"

"Mom, stop!" I groaned louder, my face now burning with embarrassment.

"You're right," she said, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. "I should save some of these for later."

Reluctantly, I sat back down, my face still burning. "Hmph! You're just trying to make fun of me, aren't you?"

"Ho- How could I ever make fun of my dear so- son~?" she replied, her eyes twinkling as she struggled to keep a straight face. Adan sat frozen, his chopsticks hovering mid-air as he processed the moment. His chest tightened with a peculiar mix of embarrassment and warmth. It wasn't often he saw his mother laughing like this, her face lit up with such unrestrained joy. He couldn't help but notice how her laughter seemed to echo through the room, filling every corner with a kind of light he hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

We finished breakfast with lighter conversation. She shared a funny story from work, and despite myself, I laughed. As I glanced at the clock, I realized she was running short on time.

"Mom, shouldn't you be heading to work soon?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She blinked, then glanced at the time on her phone. "Oh, you're right! Look at you, being responsible all of a sudden," she teased, smirking as she pushed her chair back. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

"No, I just thought… you know, you don't want to be late," I mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward under her amused gaze. "And besides, I'll have to endure more teasing if you don't go now."

She laughed, shaking her head as she stood. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your cleaning duty." Before heading out, she gave me a tight hug. "Don't forget to tidy up, okay? And maybe go for a walk. Fresh air does wonders."

"I will," I promised, watching her leave. The apartment felt oddly quiet without her presence. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, her warmth still lingering in the air. A sudden wave of determination washed over me. If I was really going to change, it had to start now. My gaze swept over the chaos of my room through the open door, and I sighed. "Alright, Adan," I muttered to myself, rolling up my sleeves. "Time to tackle that natural disaster warning zone you call a bedroom."

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A/N:

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