I was the heroine of a sweet-wife story: delicate, soft, and made to be swept off my feet.
All I had to do was behave and let one man after another dote on me.
My stepbrother was walking toward me with a glass of milk when a system appeared.
It told me that, according to the plot, I was supposed to develop a sex addiction that very day. From then on, the slightest contact with a man would leave me unbearably aroused, and it would only get worse.
That sounded pretty good to me.
I drained the milk in one gulp.
My stepbrother smiled.
I smiled too.
The system gave an even more wicked little chuckle.
“Except I just changed it into an addiction to studying.”