Forget My Husband, I’ll Go Make Money - Chapter 178

What to do when you find yourself transformed into the vicious female supporting character in a family that dotes on the group pet?Of course, it's to keep away from the protagonist,She's practically the darling of the heavens, with a protagonist halo so strong even a dog would fall for her.Hiss, Bai Zhi said, “Can't compete, can't compete, cherish life, stay away from the protagonist.”All she wanted was to quietly make some small money and live freely, but—Group pet with tearful eyes, “Sister, come back, I'll let you have our brother.”Bai Zhi, “...” No need, I refuse.Group pet with an overflowing Mother Teresa complex, “This was all my fault; please, don't blame my sister!”Bai Zhi, “...” Look at this white lotus script; hey! Where's my knife?—Even more fantastic was when that baby-faced weak little brother suddenly appeared midway and transformed into a boss!Bai Zhi, “???”A new book has started; the Film Emperor's daughter is hibernating again. There are new book activities, sweet, sweet, sweet

“I’ve been possessed into the controversial makjang drama ‘Gwangin’ (The Lunatic). Of all roles, I’m the omega secretary to an alpha with omega-phobia. It’s hard enough hiding my identity, but I’m also in charge of all sorts of annoying tasks: managing the protagonist’s diet, wardrobe, and house; coaxing and soothing the beta he loves. My goal is to survive until the ending where the protagonist meets the strange beta who thinks even his obsession is love, leading to a happy ending… I think I smell an omega somewhere.’ ‘That’s… impossible.’ If I speak carelessly, I die. If I mess up my work, I die. If I run away, I die. And if the fact that I’m an omega is revealed… I really die. ‘Right. It shouldn’t be possible, but that’s why I feel so f*cking awful, Secretary Kim.’ Will I be able to make it back alive…?”

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.