I stared at the ceiling of my unfamiliar new quarters, trying to process the chaos I had just experienced. One moment, I'd been grinding resources in-game with my specialized Farmer class; the next, a blinding flashbang knocked me out cold.

Now, here I was—lying on a stiff, uncomfortable bed that paled in comparison to the luxury mattress I'd spent months researching back home.

"This has to be some kind of isekai situation, right?" I muttered, chuckling darkly. "Or maybe I've finally lost my mind. Not sure which would be worse."

Then it hit me: according to the flood of memories pouring into my head, I wasn't in my 18-year-old body anymore. Nope. Thanks to whatever cosmic screw-up landed me here, I was now… physically eight years old.

Great. Just great.

Mentally, I was still me—the same guy who spent hours optimizing farming routes and mastering game mechanics.

But physically? I was stuck in the tiny, fragile body of a kid. And judging by the rough fabric beneath me, even my comfy bed privileges were gone.

A small icon flickered into view in the corner of my vision.

When I focused on it, a translucent interface expanded before me, hovering like a hologram. It read:

Player: Axel von Reinhardt

Physical Age: 8

Class: Farmer | Level 1

Skills:

- Player Summon

- Mental Hub

- Conditional Teleportation

- Death Protection

"So I kept my game class," I said aloud, frowning. "Guess I should count myself lucky—I could've ended up as a merchant or something equally useless."

The Farmer class wasn't what it sounded like. In-game, it was designed for resource farming using summoned personalities—a perfect setup for grinding without breaking a sweat.

Its second evolution gave it golem-making abilities, and eventually, it merged with the Summoner class, becoming a mess but in real world it should be quite useful. But until then? Well, let's just say my health points were laughably low.

"Okay, so my goal is clear," I reasoned.

"Evolve to Summoner, rebirth, and dual-class to fix the HP issue. Easy enough… assuming I survive long enough to pull it off."

Easier said than done when you're trapped in the body of an eight-year-old brat—and everyone treats you like one.

I immediately opened the door of my room and regretted it. "Axel, do you need to go somewhere?" My mom was right in front of the gate.

Did I just get camped by my mom? No way she would leave me alone now, based on my memories. And as I thought that, she came over with her arms extended. "Ah, my loving son, come here. Mommy will carry you to where you want to go."

And with that, I was in her arms, unable to go outside alone. With her around, there was no way I could summon my player personality.

This was going to be an annoying day, wasn't it? I thought to myself as she carried me to her tea party with her friends.

As she carried me, I studied my mother—her sapphire-blue hair cascaded down her shoulders in gentle waves, contrasting with her striking crimson eyes. The two maids following us kept smiling and waving at me like I was a toddler.

"Well, technically I am a child now," I mused, choosing to ignore them. Their expressions fell slightly at my lack of response, but I couldn't care less—I needed to plan.

I had to find a way to escape my mother's clutches somehow. Never thought I'd be plotting something like that, I mused as I was brought to her tea party against my will.

She settled me onto her lap, while I glared enviously at the other children who got their own chairs. Why was I the only one confined to a parent's lap?

The tea party consisted of four nobles—two mothers and their daughters. The first noblewoman had golden blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight, paired with deep ruby eyes.

She wore an elaborate red and black dress, complete with one of those ornate folding fans straight out of a fantasy novel. Her daughter was her miniature mirror image, down to the matching dress styled for a child.

The second noblewoman carried herself with equal grace, her forest-green hair styled in an elegant updo that complemented her emerald eyes.

Her white dress was trimmed with delicate green embroidery that caught the light as she moved. Again, her daughter wore a smaller version of her mother's ensemble.

My own mother's dress was a deep blue with black trim that matched her hair perfectly. As I sat trapped on her lap, I couldn't help thinking this tea party was definitely going in my diary of dark memories.

"Well then, let's hope this small tea party ends soon," I muttered under my breath, already plotting my escape.