The Art of Napping in the Eighties
By @john1208
I was in the middle of a vicious street brawl with my own sister over a dropped pork bun when she suddenly dropped her fists, burst into tears, and demanded we legally swap identities. I agreed instantly. Why? Because the man she originally drew in our family's marriage lottery was Kiet, a disgraced former janitor rumored to have an obsessive compulsion for scrubbing floors and cooking. Score! While my reborn sister Maliwan exhausts herself trying to drag her new, supposedly 'future richest man' husband to the top of the 1983 stock market, I’ve dedicated myself to the noble art of doing absolutely nothing. We have zero romance, but as a platonic roommate who does all my chores, Kiet is a dream come true. To maximize my sleep, I started tossing random meats and spices into a slow-heating clay pot before my fourteen-hour naps. But when Uncle Samak, a neighborhood double agent secretly working for a corporate food syndicate, tastes my lazy meal, my 'secret formula' accidentally gets patented! Now I'm accidentally the wealthiest woman in the province. With my sister's timeline crumbling and Kiet aggressively sanitizing our new mansion, how long can I pretend I don't care about this booming culinary empire?
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