Don't Split Bills With Reapers
Language: en
Bianca and I were locked in a staring contest when that metallic, grating voice echoed in our heads, demanding we make a choice. I’m the Shadow Reaper; she’s the Light Reaper. Because our soul-collection quotas were essentially breaking the scales of the Underworld, some bottom-tier "Domestic Goddess System" decided to hijack us. The options it presented were a joke. Choice A: Marry a billionaire but live a strictly "split-the-check" lifestyle. Choice B: Become a blue-collar girl drowning in ten million dollars of debt. The System clearly thought we’d claw each other’s eyes out for Choice…