Unlike my previous lives where I only landed bit roles and cannon fodder, this new life forced me into lead roles that actually mattered.
Honestly, I felt happy about it deep down despite the exhaustion.
But acting alongside a male alpha character made my stomach churn—I wanted to vomit every time we locked eyes during takes.
Back as a man in my previous life, romantic scenes with guys felt utterly weird and wrong no matter how professional I tried to stay.
I had acted as a female character before in small roles, but those never involved a love interest so the discomfort stayed manageable.
CVWRS’s voice buzzed in my head with surprise.
“Host, I thought you wouldn’t be able to act with him at all without breaking character.”
Well, I did it perfectly, didn’t I?
An actor never shows discomfort during the scenes, even though it feels utterly ridiculous to act with a man.
“That’s true.
You nailed every line.”
The cross-dressing felt just as weird during that Disguised Hearts shoot.
I started as a man in my old life, got swapped into a woman’s body, and now had to cross-dress back as a man for the role.
How utterly ironic could it get?
Binders squeezing my chest, fake stubble itching my jaw, and slacks hiding my hips—it all layered on extra layers of wrongness that made my skin crawl.
I pushed open the mansion door late that night, bone-tired from back-to-back sets, only to freeze solid in the foyer.
Silvia stood there waiting with a dark scowl etched across her gorgeous face, arms crossed tight over her black suit jacket and red eyes blazing cold fury.
My soul nearly left my body right then from pure shock—her alpha presence hit like a wall of ice, pine-iron pheromones thickening the air heavy enough to choke me.
System!
Is she angry at me?!
I mentally screamed at CVWRS while my knees wobbled weak.
“Yes, Host.
I guess so,” it replied casual at first.
You guess?!
“Okay, fine—she’s definitely angry.
Full rage mode.”
What the hell should I do now?!
Think fast!
Silvia’s glare pinned me like a butterfly to a board, her smooth cheeks flushed faint with irritation and jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone.
She stepped closer slow, towering over my 5’3 frame while her gold watch ticked ominous in the silence.
Why do I have to be so small?
I come home to this disaster after a full day, and you couldn’t manage one simple task?”
Tears welled up hot in my sapphire eyes despite myself—omega instincts kicking in traitorously under her dominance.
I sniffed loud and shook my head fast, blonde waves tumbling messy.
“Sorry, h-honey…
I had movie shoots all day…
l-long.
Back-to-back sets—I swear I’ll make it up.”
She scoffed sharp, red eyes narrowing behind her sleek glasses as she paced past the vomit-stained rug still crusty from morning.
“Those acting gigs?
My parents pulled strings for you.
Without their connections and money, a nobody omega like you would never step foot on a set.
Don’t pretend it’s your talent alone.”
My jaw dropped silent—what did she just say?
Her parents bankrolled my career?
“Yes, Host.
That’s true—original Lyra’s big break came from Silvia’s family influence,” CVWRS confirmed quick in my head.
I sniffed harder, wiping tears with a manicured hand while playing the part perfect.
“I am so sorry…
it won’t h-happen again, I promise.”
Silvia clicked her tongue loud in disgust, smooth cheeks twitching as she glanced around at scattered tea cups and crumpled newspaper wads.
“Just clean this entire mansion spotless right now, Lyra.
I feel my skin crawling every time I see your incompetence staring back at me.”
With that final ice-cold command, she turned sharp on her heel and stormed upstairs, powerful legs flexing under suit pants as her bedroom door slammed shut like thunder.
I waited exactly three seconds for her pheromones to fade before sticking my tongue out at her retreating back, muttering low.
“Bitch.”
“Host, your job is to be a virtuous wife—play nice,” CVWRS warned with a holographic paw wave.
Fine, whatever.
I sighed deep, rolling up sleeves on my rumpled shirt from the shoot.
A chime rang sharp in my skull.
Blue screen flared bright, showing my mission.
👗 Make chores sexy – sway hips, purr while folding.
Virtuous wife charm ✨
✅ Reward: 150 points | ❌ Fail: Wardrobe Malfunction (Skirt Up, 5 mins) 💃
🎯 Extra Mission: Clean the House
🧹 Scrub mansion spotless – floors, rugs, every surface.
Virtuous wife duty 🧼
✅ Reward: 200 points | ❌ Fail: Allergic Rash (Itchy 2 hours) 😷
I groaned loud, staring at the dual screens glowing mocking in my vision.
Laundry and full-house deep clean?
Silvia’s mess from morning vomit still crusted the foyer rug, tea rings stained the mahogany table, and dust bunnies hid under every velvet chaise in this Victorian beast of a mansion.
My feet ached from heels and sets; now this?
“Fine, system.
Multitask hell it is,” I muttered under my breath while tying my blonde waves into a messy bun with a lace scrunchie from Lyra’s vanity drawer.
The scrunchie gripped tight, pulling strands back from my sweaty face as I glanced around the vomit-stained foyer—Silvia’s mess waiting like a taunt.
Let’s clean the house first before tackling that seductive laundry nonsense.
I had already changed into a simple shirt and skirt outfit from Lyra’s closet—a loose white blouse that draped over my breasts and a knee-length black skirt that swished with every step.
Practical for scrubbing, or so I thought.
I tied my hair secure with the scrunchie and grabbed the cleaning caddy: mop, sprays, rags, vacuum cord coiled like a snake.
This felt like pure abuse.
Wife-abuse in this twisted ABO world where omegas got ordered around like maids.
System, isn’t she abusing me like some servant?
I mentally yelled at CVWRS while spraying enzyme cleaner on the crusted rug, the acrid chicory stench rising fresh.
“No, Host.
You are a virtuous wife, and it’s your duty to obey your husband’s words without question,” it replied calm and robotic, floating nearby with disco eyes half-lidded.
What type of bullshit rule is this?
She’s clearly treating me as a maid—cleaning orders while she lords upstairs!
I scrubbed harder, mop sloshing soapy water across marble tiles that gleamed wet under chandelier light.
My skirt hem dragged through puddles, shirt sleeves rolled up to elbows, blonde bun loosening stray curls.
“Then warm her cold heart, and make her treat you as you deserve.
Let her pamper you like the star you are,” CVWRS suggested with a tail flick, voice turning sly.
“Seduce through chores—win her over slow.”
I snorted, vacuum roaring alive as I sucked up newspaper shreds and dust bunnies from under the velvet chaise.