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"Mhm...hmm...huh...uhuh...uhuh...uhuh...hmm...Bye? Bye." Michael put down his phone and looked in the mirror. His mom called him.
"Okay, knock-off Andrew Garfield, let's go to the gym," Michael said to himself while looking at his lean, muscular body.
He does not have a six-pack, but he is muscular with sharp features, and with some of his nerdy vibes, he looked like Andrew Garfield from *The Amazing Spider-Man*. Well, only he thought of himself like that, but he looked totally different from Garfield.
It has been 8 months since he went to Japan for work on the movie. In these 8 months, he has changed a lot. Before, he looked like a lanky guy who is 6 feet tall, but now he is totally different from before.
Since coming here, his interests also changed a lot. He now had tattoos on both of his arms, shoulders, and one of his pecs. On his left arm, he had different types of tattoos, some small, some big, with different designs. On his right side, it was a sleeve of dragons and watches that went to his pecs.
Well, those tattoos can be hidden with a long-sleeved shirt, and he always used to hide them because Japan has some disapproval of tattoos.
"Ugh...I don't know what is happening to me...I don't want to write, I don't have enthusiasm about anything, I don't want to release my book,I am somehow full of tattoos...have a great body... well everything is fine I guess," Michael said while wearing his shoes.
"One more week and my work would be finished here, and I could go back home," Michael thought.
It was decided that the revenue from the movie would be divided into two parts, and obviously Michael would get the smaller amount. Michael is also being paid for his work in the movie, but that is for name's sake, so the money is not that much.
"I learned a lot about directing and animation. Should I follow in the steps of my fellow transmigrator and open a studio? Kidding!!" Michael thought.
Michael had held off the release of his second book until he got back home. Then he would let Evans know when to release it...or not he would decide later.
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"Terry! Talk to him, will you?" Janet exclaimed to Terry.
"Why am I always the one who gets to talk to him? Why should I always have the fun? You go talk to him," Terry replied.
"Ugh... my baby is not like that at all. He has tattoos... TATTOOS!! He is afraid of needles or was." Said Janet
"Come on, baby, you know he is growing up. He should do whatever he feels like; we can't control him, can we? And the tattoos are no big deal. Actually, he asked me before he got them, and I told him it would look good," said Terry, looking guilty while saying the last part.
"Really, Terry?" Janet asked with a deadpan expression.
"You know, I appreciate art...soooo," Terry making excuses.
"Oh shut up, Terry. Zip it." Janet stormed out of the room.
You are so lucky to have a father like me, son, or else you ass would have been whooped in Japan only," Terry murmured.
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Few days later when Micheal got to home he was getting lectured by his mom.
"Oh, come on, Mike, you think you can do this shit to your body and you'll look cool?" screamed Janet.
"Mom, it's fine, it's just some tattoos. It's not a big deal. I can wear full-sleeve shirts to hide them," said Michael, irritated.
"And that makes it better? How? Tell me, Michael? You know what, it's not only about tattoos anymore, it's about you," said Janet.
"About me? What about me?" Michael said.
"Oh, don't even get me started on your habit of smoking. It reeks from your body. Do you know who used to reek like this? Your father...YOUR FATHER. You know who used to have bad tattoos? Your father. You know who used to ignore their family's calls? Your FATHER!!! You know..." Janet went on and on for 5 minutes and Terry couldn't even fathom what she was saying.
"Janet, it's enough!" Terry said firmly.
The room became silent again. Michael was looking at the floor. Janet was crying, hugged by Terry.
"Look... I am sorry," said Michael, still looking down at the floor.
"No...sniff...no I should not have-" Janet started to talk when Michael cut her off.
"I am sorry that I remind you of your ex-husband," said Michael and stormed off to his room.
"Mikey! Stop!" exclaimed Terry, trying to stop Michael.
"It's fine, Dad, I am fine," said Michael, smiling at Terry and frowning when he turned around.
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"FUCK!!FUCK!!!FUUUUCKK!...What is happening to me? Why did I say that? Why did I say those things to my mother? No, I have to apologize... Apologize? Why? Why should I? Why would I apologize? Fuck no. I would never. But what she said was true... as if I care. I am a millionaire; I have the power to become the best, no, a legendary writer. Why should a legendary writer apologize? No, she is beneath me... what am I saying, no... no... no...fuck no." Micheal was pacing around in his room when he heard someone knock his door.
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"So now what? He is going astray. I don't get this. If a transmigrator does not meet their anchor for a long time, not only will their minds be corrupted, but their blood relatives' minds will also not be sane?"
"Yeah, it's like that. I don't know either, but it works like that. But don't worry, as I said, he just needs to be near his anchor, and he would correct his path himself and become sane again. That's what happens when he's a simp. Lmao," said the man with a straight face, who gave Michael that power.