002 Whose Mommy? - Evelyn’s POV

I remembered my past life all too well. It wasn’t a flattering life… being a corporate slave sucked. The work was soul-sucking. Everything sucked. My boss sucked. The pay sucked. The fact that I still had to show up every day despite everything sucking? That sucked the most.

Suck suck. suck.

Sometimes, I’d stand in the middle of the highway, staring down the blinding headlights of an incoming truck, hoping fate would finally do me a favor and smash me straight to kingdom come. But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

It started with a video game.

I specifically remember buying the Otome game as a gift for my baby girl—may she rest in peace.

I never even got the chance to give it to her.

I was a kid once. I made mistakes. But that girl? She wasn’t one of them. If anything, my greatest mistake was not loving her enough.

And then I died.

Not by a truck. Not by overwork. Just… darkness. One second, I was existing. The next, I wasn’t. No grand farewell, no final words. Just the void.

But fate wasn’t done screwing with me yet.

Because I woke up in a new world. One I knew far too well.

The same world as that Otome game.

And my son—the little brat currently putting on an Oscar-worthy performance—was the villain.

"Mom! Mommy~! He hit me!"

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared down at the so-called victim. A hobgoblin, limping dramatically as if it had just been through hell and back.

"Seriously?" I deadpanned.

Mark, my dear little menace of a son, had the audacity to sniffle. "My brain is hurt. I want to sleep."

I glanced at the hobgoblin. It wasn’t dead… yet. That was an improvement.

Mark was getting better.

Still, his acting could use some work.

I pulled out my handgun and shot the hobgoblin in the head. It crumpled, lifeless.

"Let's go," I said, holstering the gun. "We’ll continue tomorrow."

Mark groaned, dragging his feet behind me as we left the training ground. "Mom, you’re evil."

I smirked. "And you’re soft."

The road stretched endlessly before me, bathed in the dim glow of my headlights. The hum of the engine filled the silence, a quiet, steady noise that kept me grounded.

I wasn’t running.

Not exactly.

I was just… relocating. Again.

The motel I pulled into was a rundown little thing on the side of the highway. Paint peeling off the walls, a neon sign flickering like it was on its last legs—charming. But it had a bed, a door that locked, and no nosy neighbors. That was good enough.

Mark was out of the car the second I parked. "Dibs on the shower!" he declared before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.

I let him have it.

Dragging our luggage inside, I tossed the duffel bags onto the rickety bed and rubbed at my eyes. They still ached, a dull, irritating pain from using my ESP for too long. It’d been months, but my body was still adjusting.

The first chance I got after dropping Mark at the orphanage, I’d gone on a little adventure.

Step one: abuse my lore knowledge.

Step two: sell information from behind the scenes, just enough to get the right people interested.

Step three: build the funds.

Step four: hire a somewhat reliable power broker who could forcibly awaken my ESP in a controlled environment.

The "controlled" part turned out to be a lie. There was no such thing. The bastard had tossed me into the deepest abyss and told me to sink or swim. Literally.

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I swam.

And now? Now I had ESP. My mind stretched further than it ever had before, but my body still hated me for it. The headaches were brutal.

"I really am taking it easy on Mark."

"What's that, Mom?"

I turned to see the little brat stepping out of the bathroom, steam rolling behind him as he rubbed a towel through his hair.

"Nothing," I said, grabbing my change of clothes. "My turn."

Mark flopped onto the bed. "Can I sleep now?"

"Not if you’re still wet," I shot back.

"Ugh."

I smirked and shut the bathroom door behind me.

The water cascaded over my skin, washing away the grime of the road. The motel shower was a piece of crap—low pressure, weird smell, a showerhead that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the last century—but after a long drive, it felt divine.

I ran a hand through my silver hair, slicking it back as I took a moment to appreciate my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. Lean figure, sharp features, piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly with ESP energy—this body had come a long way since I first woke up in this world. The hellish training, the near-death experiences, the forced ESP awakening… worth it.

The side-effects of the forced method were getting worse quickly and I wouldn't want Mark to suffer through that, so I had to think of a different method for him.

I let out a slow breath and pulled up my interface.

[ESP Interface: System Online]

It flickered to life within my Mind’s Eye, a glowing blue construct floating in the darkness of my thoughts. I had built it myself, using my ESP to create a mental construct modeled after the otome game’s system.

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[Evelyn's ESP Interface: Mark's Stat Sheet]

Name: Mark (No registered surname)

Title: The Villain

Age: 11

Race: Human (?)

Affiliation: None (Currently a free agent)

Threat Level: [⚠ Variable ⚠] (Depends on mood and sugar intake)

Attributes:

* Strength: ★★☆☆☆ (Above average for his age, but lazy.)

* Dexterity: ★★★☆☆ (Quick hands, quicker excuses.)

* Endurance: ★★☆☆☆ (Can take a hit, but whines about it.)

* Intelligence: ★★★★☆ (Smart. Too smart. Selectively dumb.)

* Wisdom: ★★★☆☆ (Knows better. Doesn’t care.)

* Charisma: ★★★★☆ (Could talk his way out of war crimes.)

* Luck: ★★☆☆☆ (Unlucky when it matters, lucky when it’s funny.)

Abilities:

* [ESP Latency Detected] (Potential, but undeveloped.)

* [Survivor’s Instinct] (Has a knack for avoiding death, mostly by hiding behind me.)

* [Selective Hearing] (Can ignore what he doesn’t want to hear, even if it’s a direct order.)

* [Brat Energy] (Gains a power boost when being particularly annoying.)

Personality Notes:

* Has the emotional range of a feral cat.

* Pretends to be helpless to get out of work.

* Surprisingly soft-hearted, but will deny it.

Current Condition:

* HP: [85%] (Bruised, but fine. Probably exaggerating pain.)

* Mental Fatigue: [Low] (But will complain like it’s high.)

* Hunger: [Moderate] (Will demand snacks in 3… 2… 1…)

Evelyn’s Personal Notes:

* Still too soft. Needs more training.

* I know he can fight. He just doesn’t want to.

* If he cons me into giving him extra dessert again, I’m making him run laps.

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A stat sheet unfolded before me, its layout eerily similar to the game’s menu.

The main display? Mark’s stats.

I had no intention of letting my son stumble blindly into his fate. If the world wanted him to be the villain, I’d make damn sure he was a prepared villain. Better yet, turn him into a hero. That’s why I made this interface—so I could monitor his growth, track his strengths, and keep a damn Exp system in place. If the world wanted to treat this like a game, I’d play it better than anyone else.

I flicked through the stats, noting his progress. Nothing unexpected. His physical stats were improving at a snail’s pace, mostly because he preferred not to do any work. His intelligence and charisma were still sky-high, which explained why he kept finessing his way out of things. And of course, his Brat Energy was as strong as ever.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

"Mom, I’m hungry."

I rolled my eyes. "Sweetie, there’s a snack bar in the duffel. Eat that for now. We’ll go out later."

There was a moment of silence before—

"Wa-hoo~!"

I snorted. Little shit probably found the chocolate stash.

Shaking my head, I returned to the interface, tweaking the settings and taking notes on what I remembered from the game. Every little detail mattered. Every route, every character, every event—I had to keep track of it all.

For now, though? I let the hot water run a little longer.

I was going to take my time in the shower.

Initially, after awakening my ESP, my plan was simple: make money, find a reliable power broker, and get Mark’s ESP awakened in a guaranteed safe way—before the heroine could even say, bitch, please.

Then, I learned the nature of my power.

ESP manifested differently for everyone. Some people got raw telekinesis, others got elemental control, and the truly unlucky ones ended up with useless garbage like enhanced taste perception.

Mine? Mine was something else.

A hyper-aware, sixth-sense, telepathic insight kind of something else.

I called it Mind’s Eye—because it felt right. With it, I could perceive the world in ways others couldn’t. Every shift in the air, every stray thought brushing against my consciousness, even the faintest hostility hiding behind a fake smile—I could sense it all.

And that changed everything.

With an ability like this, I didn’t need to rely on a third party to awaken Mark’s ESP. I could do it myself. And I could do it safer than the reckless, borderline-suicidal methods that others used. Moreover, I could also help him build his stats fast… Forced awakening had terrible side-effects after all.

But just awakening his powers wasn’t enough. If I wanted Mark to have an easier life at the ESPer Academy, he needed more than just strength—he needed status.

Which meant I needed status.

The ESPer Registry granted noble titles to those who were powerful enough. At the very least, I could secure a quasi-knight rank. If I climbed high enough, Mark would have the backing he needed to avoid the bullying that would come with his appearance—his silver hair, sharp features, and unnatural presence made him an easy target.

The original storyline was cruel. Well, too cruel for Mark.

I would have died. Mark would have fallen into a series of tragic events, pushing him into villainy.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

The first step? Strength.

Not just my strength, but also Mark’s.

My phone rang.

I turned off the shower, dried myself, and grabbed it from the sink. Without bothering to check the caller ID, I answered, putting it on speaker.

A familiar voice crackled through. "I found a dungeon. Low-level cryptids. Even a midget could beat them like you requested." There was a pause. "I don’t get it. This has been the weirdest request I’ve ever received in my entire life."

I smirked and wrapped the towel around me. "Send me the coordinates."