"Good morning, Princess," my mother said, as she entered my bathroom.
"Hmm, Eomma, is everything alright?" I asked with a smirk, because the last time my mom came to my room to wake me up led to some things... Hmm... I think I'll stop here.
My mom came out of the bathroom half naked.
"Can't you just go with whatever that is happening?" Eomma said with a disappointed face.
"Okay, fine, mom," I chuckled.
I'm convinced my mom isn't the same age as me.
"It's weird, right?" Eomma—my mother—said, casually checking her reflection in my vanity mirror as if she hadn't just dropped a metaphorical bomb. She looked twenty-two. Exactly twenty-two. Which was awkward, considering I'd just had my twenty-second birthday yesterday.
"Weird doesn't cover it, Mom," I sighed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "The glitch was supposed to reset at midnight. You were supposed to go back to being forty-five, having back pain, and complaining about the Wi-Fi. Instead, you're... well, you're me. Again."
She turned around, a mischievous glint in her eyes that definitely didn't belong to a woman in her forties. "Look on the bright side, Princess. We can finally share clothes without you complaining I'm 'stretching them out.' Now, get up. If we're going to find the person who did this to us, we have to go to my office. And since I look like a college student, you're going to have to pretend to be the CEO."
Walking into the corporate headquarters felt like a prank show where I was the only one who didn't know the script. I was wearing Eomma's sharpest charcoal blazer—which was slightly too big in the shoulders—and her expensive glasses that actually made my head hurt.
"Stop fidgeting," Eomma hissed, leaning in like she was whispering a secret to a best friend. She was wearing my oversized vintage tee and baggy jeans, looking exactly like a college student who'd wandered into the wrong building. "You're the boss. Act like you're bored and annoyed by everyone's existence. That's my signature look."
"I am annoyed, Eomma," I muttered through gritted teeth as the elevator doors slid open.
"Good morning, Director!" the receptionist chirped, her eyes landing on me. Then her gaze flickered to Eomma. "Oh, and who is... your sister? She looks just like you!"
I felt Eomma's hand pinch my lower back. Hard.
"This is my... intern," I blurted out, my voice an octave too high. "She's very young. Very inexperienced. She won't be speaking today. Or ever."
Eomma rolled her eyes—a classic move—but then she did something she hadn't done in twenty years. She stepped behind me and started braiding my hair while we waited for the head of security to approach.
"Director," the head of security said, looking baffled at the 'intern' styling my hair. "We have the security footage from the lab last night. But... there's a problem. The person who triggered the age-reversal serum? The camera shows they have the exact same fingerprints as you."
I froze. Eomma's hands stopped mid-braid. If she was twenty-two and I was twenty-two, and we had the same prints... who exactly was the "original" anymore?
Eomma looked at me. "Is that clone stuff even real?"
"Huh? Eomma, seriously?" I said. "You're acting like a toddler. At least act like a teenager. Wait—did I just say teenager? Ew. Gross. I can't take this. We have to fix you up immediately."