Reborn to Rewrite the Spotlight

Chapter 19: On Replay

July 2005 – Los Angeles, California

Age: 11 years, 5 months

It felt unreal. The kind of disbelief that comes when something you've worked so hard for is finally right in front of you. One Time was officially out, and it was making waves.

I had spent the last few months pouring my soul into that song, and now it was out there for the world to hear. But what really shocked me was how quickly it had taken off. Radio stations were playing it on repeat. It was on the Billboard charts. The track was climbing, hitting #4 by the end of the first week. The phone calls, the messages, the interviews—it was all happening faster than I had ever imagined.

But as I sat in my room, reflecting on all of it, one thought kept running through my mind: I can't believe this is happening.

Not because I hadn't worked for it, not because I hadn't earned it. But because this wasn't supposed to be my life. This wasn't supposed to be my song. It wasn't supposed to be Justin Bieber's success story.

It was supposed to be a new chapter, something that felt... real. But in this body, I had inherited everything—his dreams, his talents, his path. And as much as I wanted to carve my own identity, there were moments when it felt like it didn't matter. This was Justin's story, not mine.

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The song had become a phenomenon, even making its way onto Radio 2, one of the top stations in the country. People were falling in love with it—its sweet melody, the lyrics that spoke to anyone who'd ever been in love, even just for a moment. It was catchy, timeless, and I was slowly becoming the face of pop music in 2005.

I was still processing it all when I found myself thinking back to my previous life. Why did I keep acting so naive? It was almost like a game—pretending to be someone who didn't understand the full picture. I was clever enough to see everything around me, to notice how people revealed their secrets when they thought I didn't know any better. It was the perfect way to get ahead.

In my past life, I used the same tactic. People had underestimated me. They thought I was the naive, idealistic kid who didn't know anything about the world. The truth? I was always ahead of them, always a step ahead, collecting information from the most unlikely sources. And it made everything so much easier when it was time to strike.

Now, in this new body, I was doing the same thing. People had no idea how much I understood. They were giving away secrets, showing me their vulnerabilities, their flaws. And it was all so... perfect. The naive act made everything simpler. They wanted to believe that I didn't know. That I didn't understand. And that's when they let their guard down.

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That day, as the song reached its peak on the charts, I couldn't help but smile. I had become a star—but this wasn't just about the fame. It wasn't even about the song anymore. It was about everything that came with it—the influence, the power, and the control over the narrative. I was playing the part of the innocent kid, and everyone was following along.

As I scrolled through social media, watching fans post about how One Time was changing their lives, I realized something: they all believed the image. They believed the Justin Bieber persona. The sweet, innocent kid who just wanted to sing about love. But underneath, I knew what was really happening. I wasn't just playing the part. I was manipulating the situation to my advantage. And it felt too easy.

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In the months that followed, the success only grew. One Time was being covered by other artists, and I was invited to perform at events and shows. Everything was moving so fast, I hardly had time to think. But through it all, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

I'd been handed this life, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it from me. My past life had shown me how to play the game. And I was going to play it better than anyone.

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One night, after another performance, I sat in the back of the tour bus, thinking about the trajectory of my life. The naive kid act had worked better than I could have ever imagined. But as the bus rumbled down the highway, I wondered how much longer I could keep this up before someone figured out who I really was.

Do they really know me?

I'd convinced the world of one thing. That I was the kid who dreamed big and sang from the heart. But the truth was, they didn't know anything about me. They didn't know the games I played, the tricks I used to get ahead. And as much as I wanted to carve my own path, I couldn't escape the feeling that everything was falling into place exactly as it had been meant to.

Maybe I had been Justin Bieber all along.

The song might have been his, but this life? This was mine. And I would shape it however I saw fit.

One time, one love, one life. It was all coming true. But now, I had to decide: was I going to play by the rules, or was I going to rewrite the game entirely?