luck-books

I just wanted to do my job. Seriously—I was just here to follow the script, clean up narrative glitches, and go home. But then she showed up. Colette. The system-assigned heroine who''''s ''''supposed'''' to fall for the male protagonist—not stare at me like I’m limited-edition eye candy. my system is crashing every time she smiles, and she just touched my waist and said, “Psychological dominance test.” She ''''kabedon’ me. From a plastic chair. WHAT EVEN IS THIS. And don’t ask why instant noodles, campus presentations, and dish soap are somehow now key elements in our “romance.” I don’t know how this started. All I know is: She’s hot. I’m weak. And the world is going to explode.