Mysterious Man

After successfully completing today's workout, Mr. G and I immediately started walking back to our apartment.

Upon arriving and opening the apartment door, I came face-to-face with a man I didn't recognize.

He was a young man with short, slicked-back black hair, with a few strands of white mixed in. Strangely, it didn't seem like gray hair but rather his natural color. Considering I had encountered many people with colorful hair while exercising earlier, I wasn't too surprised by it. His face was quite handsome, with a thin, slightly unkempt beard. He was rather slim but not muscular. However, the most noticeable feature was his heavy eye bags, a clear sign of sleep deprivation.

"Oh, where have you been?" The man greeted me with a question.

"Mom! There's a homeless man in our apartment!"

As a survival instinct ingrained in me since birth activated, I executed the first tactical move any normal child would do—calling for my mom.

"Oi, that's harsh! I'm your dad, you know?" The man immediately countered my tactical move with a denial.

Dad? This homeless man that looked liked he loses his soul from being exploited like slaves. This guy must be lying!

Damn it, what do I do? The exit is behind me. I could run, but what about Mom and Carla?

Thud-thud-thud

In the split second of our stalemate, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway leading to the dining room. Based on the steps, I assumed Mom was coming. Perfect! With this, we could launch a pincer attack against this man—Mom as the bait attacking from the front, while I strike from behind.

FLAWLESS STRATEGY!

"Ah, Carlo, you're back?" Mom's voice echoed as she approached.

"Mom, be careful! There's an intruder in our apartment!" I immediately warned her, ensuring she was prepared for the situation.

"An intruder?" Mom responded as she arrived at the entrance hallway.

"Why are you treating me like a stranger?! Kharissa, is our child going through that rebellious phase we feared? What do we do?" The man, still claiming to be my father, turned to Mom for support.

"Oh, you're right. There is a stranger here," Mom said, giving him a look as if she were staring at a pitiful piece of trash.

"You too?! What did I do wrong for you both to treat me like this?" The man complained.

"So, you think you did nothing wrong, Charles?" Mom asked, her gaze turning cold.

(Whoa, that's terrifying. If looks could kill, Mom would've murdered him right there.)

"I'm sorry! This must be because I didn't come home and worked overtime. I sincerely apologize for breaking my promise!" The man pleaded for forgiveness.

"Since I know I messed up, I brought some food as a peace offering," He said, quickly opening his bag and pulling out a plastic container filled with cheesecake.

"Dad!" I called out with a beaming smile, radiating the joy of a son finally reunited with his father after years of being apart because he say he gone to have buy some milk.

"Carlo, didn't you say you wanted to eat healthy food from now on? I already prepared your meal in the living room," Mom said, her cold gaze shifting to me.

(Shit.)

"What's with all the noise?" Suddenly, Carla's voice rang out. She had probably come to check on the commotion at the front door.

"Ah! Dad's back!" without hesitation, Carla ran toward him, jumping up with her arms outstretched.

It would've been a heartwarming scene—a little girl running toward her father, reaching up for a hug.

But I wasn't fooled.

Her hands weren't reaching for Dad. They were reaching for the cheesecake.

How adorable. That was all I could think as I watched her efforts get betrayed when Dad scooped her up into a hug, keeping the cheesecake out of her reach.

"Sigh... Let's go inside and sit at the dining table," Mom finally said, directing us all toward the dining room.

As the events unfolded, I suddenly became curious about what Mr. G was thinking. When I turned to look at him, I saw that he was simply smiling, watching the scene with a nostalgic expression.

(Mr. G, come on!) I called out to him, signaling him to join us.

"No, you go ahead. We'll meet again in your room," He replied, turning his face away so I couldn't see his expression.

(Alright then.) I didn't question him further and simply followed the rest of my family without looking back.

I am quite understanding, after all.

From this short incident, I learned one very important lesson:

Never disappoint Mom.

--

Dining Room.

I sat with my whole family at the dining table, enjoying the meal Mom had prepared, along with the cheesecake Dad had brought from outside.

In front of me was grilled chicken breast, accompanied by a side dish consisting of a mix of steamed broccoli, carrots, and asparagus—an ideal high-protein and fiber-rich meal for starting the day with a healthy diet.

Beside me, Carla was happily indulging in her plate of creamy, mouthwatering Pasta Carbonara. I wasn't jealous at all… Maybe my stomach was more interested in her meal, but I definitely wasn't craving that creamy pasta. Nope. I kept telling myself that while forcing down the food in front of me.

(Tasteless!) The moment I put a bite into my mouth, that was my only reaction. I had to force myself to eat it, all for the sake of a healthy body and a strong mind.

"Oh? That's unusual, Carlo. Why are you eating something like that? Did you do something wrong, and Kharissa is punishing you with healthy food?" Dad asked Mom with a confused expression.

"No, our son here said he wanted to go on a diet and asked me to prepare something healthy," Mom replied, focused on her own meal.

"D-Diet!?" Dad's shocked voice echoed through the room.

(Ah, shit. Here we go again.)

I had already predicted this reaction. It was the same as yesterday when Mom and Carla both had the same shocked expressions.

"Why are you so surprised, Dad? Earlier, you asked me where I had been. I just got back from my workout," I explained, addressing his disbelief.

"Workout? You? Ugh—" His surprise deepened before he suddenly groaned in pain. I suspected it was because Mom had stepped on his foot under the table.

"That's great, my son! What kind of workout did you do today?" His tone immediately shifted to one of encouragement, trying to affirm my healthy habits.

"I tried running, but since I'm not used to it, I couldn't keep up, so I focused on walking 1,000 steps instead," I admitted, feeling slightly insecure. My body was too weak—even simple walking drained my stamina.

"That's totally fine! Taking 1,000 steps a day is actually great! I've heard that people are recommended to walk at least 1,000 steps daily for a healthier life, and you already did it this morning. That's amazing, son! I'm proud of you! The important thing is that you took the first step, and now it's all about consistency," Dad encouraged me enthusiastically.

Honestly, I had assumed he was just a useless dad at first, but maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Good job, Charles. Your dad's stock has gone up in my rankings.

"Is there anything you need? Maybe some dumbbells at home? Or a bike? Just let me know—do you want a regular bike for outside or a stationary one for indoors? I'll make sure to get it for you," he bombarded me with offers.

"Really? In that case, I'd like a pair of 5kg dumbbells to start with," I replied without hesitation.

With dumbbells at home, I could focus on building muscle in my room. Not bad, Dad. Your stock value is skyrocketing right now.

"Mom! I finished my food, so can I eat the cheesecake now?" Carla suddenly piped up. So that was why she was so quiet—she had been focused on finishing her meal quickly to get to the dessert.

"Hm, go ahead, Carla. Take a piece. How about you, Carlo? You can have some too," Mom said as she began cutting the cake to serve us.

"No, Mom, I don't need it," I declined, pushing my portion toward Carla instead.

"You can have my share too, Carla."

"Really, big bro? Yay!" Carla happily took my portion without hesitation, enjoying the cheesecake to her heart's content.

"Are you sure?" Mom asked, looking at me.

"Yes, I'm really serious about this. That's why I want you to help me monitor my diet for the next few months. If I ever try to eat unhealthy food, I want you to stop me—or even scold me if necessary," I requested earnestly.

"Alright, then. I'll help you. And I won't hesitate to scold you," she replied with a happy smile, pleased by my determination.

"Well, since I've finished eating, I'll excuse myself and head to my room," I said, standing up and carrying my plate to the kitchen.

"Oh? You're even going to clean up? Good job!" Mom praised me with an even bigger smile before turning back to Dad—who, from the looks of it, was still trying to apologize for whatever mistake he had made earlier.

Splash – Swish – Clatter

After finishing the dishes, I left the kitchen and headed to my room

--- 

"Hello, Mr. G. Did you miss me?"

after opening the door to my room, I immediately greeted Mr. G, who had been waiting there since we parted ways at the front door.

"Oh, you're done with breakfast? How was the food? Was it good?" He asked, curious about the meal I had eaten.

(If you're asking about Mom's cooking for the family, of course, everything looked delicious. But was the food I ate actually good? Mr. G, do you think medicine that cures an illness tastes good?) I replied with an ambiguous comparison, explaining the taste of my meal using the metaphor of medicine.

"Hah, you're not wrong," he responded, as if he completely understood my vague answer.

(Mr. G, I want to ask you something. Is the way I've been acting so far really okay? Ever since I woke up in this body, I've been acting more like myself, without even considering how people who are supposed to know you might react. For now, everything seems fine, but I have no idea what will happen in the future. What if they start thinking something is off about me?)

I bombarded Mr. G with questions I hadn't had the chance to ask before. Because no matter how I looked at it, this whole situation was strange. I woke up in the body of a 15-year-old boy. Obviously, he wasn't a baby anymore. Even though Mr. G claimed to be antisocial, that didn't mean he had zero interaction with his family. Yet, for now, they seemed to accept me without suspicion—and that only made me even more curious.

"Oh, right… that is an issue, isn't it?" He answered, as if he had only just realized the significance of my concerns.

(Are you kidding me, Mr. G?! You're only noticing something this important now?!)

I was genuinely shocked at how careless his response sounded.

"This is just my opinion, but I think they'll accept you just fine. I'm pretty sure… or at least, I hope so," He said, though his tone lacked confidence.

I was at a loss for words. The only thing I could do was mimic the expression Mom had given Dad earlier.

(From now on, the ghost in front of me is just a walking piece of trash.)

I tried to implant that thought into my mind as I stared at Mr. G.

"I get your point. But at this stage, they should be able to accept you as you are. That's why I believe in it. They were always too kind to me. As for whether they're surprised? Honestly, I'm sure they were very shocked, but they just didn't show it. After all, if I remember correctly, I started shutting myself off from my family ever since I entered middle school. It's not like I completely stopped talking to them, but my interactions definitely became minimal."

"Wait a minute. So they didn't just accept me without question?

At first, I tried to rationalize it by assuming their logic was different—especially since their appearances were more like anime characters than real people. But now that I thought about it, they were still human, just like me.

(Hold on, Mr. G. Then where were you on the first day I woke up? Because I'm certain I didn't see you at all that day. You only appeared the next morning.)

That was another detail that had been bothering me, and I finally voiced my concern.

"Ah, about that… I was actually here the whole time. I just didn't show myself right away—I was watching from behind the scenes. If the person who took over my body turned out to be someone evil, I wouldn't have hesitated to make their life a living nightmare for as long as they lived. I am a ghost, after all. At the very least, I can still touch my own body, so I would made sure to haunt them to the point where they couldn't sleep, driving them insane until they ended up hurting themselves," He explained, his words eerily chilling.

I shuddered at the thought. Thankfully, I had strong morals and didn't view women—or even family—as objects of desire, unlike some protagonists in certain adult novels.

"Honestly, I felt relieved when I saw you. I wasn't too worried, since God must have chosen the right person to help me. You're a little weird, sure, but at your core, you're a good person with your own sense of determination. I mean, you're even willing to take care of my frail, sickly body—even though none of this is your fault. That's why… I wanted to say thank you."

Mr. G suddenly expressed his gratitude to me out of nowhere.

(Ah, please forget it, Mr. G. Don't suddenly thank me like that—we're only just getting started. I haven't even done anything yet! I've just been using your body to walk around outside. So please, don't thank me for that.)

God, this was embarrassing. Is this what it feels like to do something good? Why does it feel this awkward? I didn't hate it, but it was strange.

"Even if, in the end, life is nothing but emptiness, and we are given the choice to be either a good or bad person, then choose to be good. I promise you won't regret it, ****."

voice suddenly echoed in my mind. Someone's words—someone I had tried to bury deep in my memory.

(Mr. G, can I ask you something about your family? I want to know more about them.)

I wasn't sure why, but out of nowhere, I felt the urge to ask. Not because he had decided to open up, but because I had become curious.

I knew it was a rather rude question to ask. But Mr. G simply paused for a moment before giving me a small smile—then, he slowly began to talk about his family.