The day I dressed up as a female supporting character in a sadistic novel for a wealthy family, the system said I could go home after completing the plot of kidney transplantation and vomiting blood.
I pulled out the oxygen tank of the critically ill male protagonist on the spot: "What's the matter? It's going to be the finale."
The next day, the male protagonist came to arrest me in a wheelchair. The grandfather of the world's richest man held up the DNA report and cried: "My dear granddaughter, what you have is a counterattack script!"
I looked at my bank card balance and fell into deep thought - is it too late to change the plot now?
