Blurb：
Discover the most unique romance novel where Luna Reed, the world’s laziest kept woman, defies the System’s commands to humiliate bankrupt billionaire Christopher Sterling. Instead of following the plot to ignite his fighting spirit through cruelty, Luna chooses comfort over drama in this villain redemption story. Watch as Christopher Sterling transforms from gloomy villain to devoted partner, trading business meetings for dress-bow tying sessions. This unconventional romance features: Strong female lead who prioritizes naps over revenge Villain male lead with childhood trauma and insomnia Anti-cliché system tropes where the heroine refuses to follow scripts Slow-burn romance development through quiet moments Emotional healing through physical touch and comfort Perfect for readers searching for: villain romance novels, lazy heroine protagonists, system defiance stories, billionaire bankruptcy plots, and unconventional love stories where rest triumphs over ambition.
Content：
I’m the kept woman of a gloomy villain, but I’m very lazy.
The villain went bankrupt.
The System told me to humiliate him viciously and dump him, to ignite his fighting spirit so he could make a comeback.
I said no.
Christopher Sterling pinched my chin, his voice fierce,
“Everyone else has left me! Why are you still here? To laugh at my misery?!”
I slowly yawned.
“Too lazy to run.”
His eyes reddened, voice laced with self-loathing,
“I’m just a useless, penniless loser now… I can’t give you the luxurious life you had before…”
I patted his head.
“Alright, stop. Isn’t all that talking exhausting? Come here, let’s just rest for a while.”
So.
To keep me from starving, Christopher rallied.
He worked himself ragged, juggling three jobs.
At the time in the original story when he was supposed to be on a date with the female lead…
Christopher was at home, down on one knee, meticulously tying the bow on the little dress I was wearing.
The system screamed, “Girl, what the hell?”
I, Luna Reed, am the kept woman of Metropolis big shot Christopher Sterling.
And I’m lazy.
Some people said Christopher kept things under wraps remarkably well;
despite being by his side for so long, not a single photo of me could be found online.
Uh…
Honestly? I just lay around the house all day.
Too lazy to go out.
Becoming his kept woman was kind of an accident too.
After graduating college, I sent my resume to his company.
Under ‘Desired Position,’ I wrote: “Little work. Lots of money.”
Personal Summary: “Good at eating.”
Christopher held that resume, pondered and puzzled over it, genuinely baffled by its meaning.
Curiosity drove him to interview me personally.
I explained, “It means ‘good at eating, lazy at working.’”
He frowned, deeply confused. “Then why didn’t you write the whole phrase?”
I took a sip of water.
Then, in slow-motion drawl, uttered four words, “Too lazy to write.”
Christopher: …
Even though the interview went disastrously, I still got the job.
Christopher needed to dodge an arranged marriage and wanted me to be his professional kept woman.
I mentally weighed it up—
Lots of money. Little work.
Could work from home.
I’m physically weak, perpetually low on energy.
Walking two steps makes me want to squat down; standing up makes me see stars.
Only my sleep quality is exceptional.
This last point, Christopher found incredibly useful.
He’s a bit sensitive and gloomy.
Childhood shadows from his family, isolated and mocked by peers in school, betrayed by partners after starting his business…
Left him paranoid, emotionally wound tight.
Often depressed and insomniac.
Every night, he’d use me as a human teddy bear, pulling me into his arms.
He’d inhale the scent of my hair.
Squeeze the soft flesh at my waist.
And then he’d completely relax, sleeping soundly through the night.
I didn’t have to do anything except sleep.
Every time I opened my eyes, gifts and bank transfers would be waiting.
It was truly…
A dream offer.
But now, things were looking very bad.
Christopher had been set up and went bankrupt.
He was swamped, hadn’t shown up for days.
Busy dissolving the company, liquidating and mortgaging assets, paying employees their final wages and severance.
As for me…
He didn’t even see me one last time, just sent a message on his phone.
“I have no money left for a farewell payout.
“The gifts before were voluntary.
“Leave.”
I was devastated, slept for a solid 15 hours straight.
When I woke up, a system appeared in my head.
It said:
This is a world of novel.
Christopher is the gloomy villain. I’m a plot-pushing tool, the kept woman.
“Just now, right now!” The system was hyped,
“You need to act shallow and materialistic! Slap Christopher a few times! Call him a useless loser! Dump him dramatically! Ignite his fighting spirit!”
“Only then can he make a comeback, reunite with his childhood sweetheart, the female lead…
“but she’ll have the male lead by then, kicking off a 200-chapter tragedy involving all three…”
I covered my ears.
“No.”
Slapping him, yelling at him…
Sounded exhausting.
The system threatened,
“As a tool, your mission is to drive the plot. If you fail, you get an electric shock punishment.”
I mustered all my strength to roll over.
“Then shock me.”
“……”
The system was completely speechless.
Seriously.
I’m just lazy, not stupid.
If I actually listened to the system’s nonsense and ground Christopher’s dignity into the dirt…
Knowing his personality?
Once he made his comeback…
He’d probably chop me into mincemeat.
Three days later, I finally went to find Christopher.
The fallen prince, was down from his penthouse throne in the glittering CBD to a dark, cramped, sunless tenement.
He had stubble, sprawled on the floor, drowning in smoke and booze, utterly defeated.
Seeing me, he laughed bitterly.
“Thought you left. Why come back?
“What? Did you miss some valuable trinket when you looted the place?”
I shook my head, handed him a bank card.
“The days I was gone… I contacted luxury resellers.
“This money should help with your debts.”
Christopher was a generous benefactor.
Back in his glory days, he’d bought me VIC status at various luxury and jewelry brands.
Every time these brands launched new or limited items, they’d send them straight to me.
So, my clothes, bags, watches, jewelry… filled an entire room.
His voice trembled, eyes full of disbelief,
“You wouldn’t bear to even unwrap that stuff… and you sold it all?!”
Uh…
Actually, I was too lazy to unwrap them.
And precisely because they were unwrapped, the condition was pristine, fetching a much higher price.
But if that’s what he wanted to believe, fine.
I couldn’t be bothered to correct him.
My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.
To hide the awkwardness, I quickly added softly,
“I eat very little, I won’t be a burden… please don’t make me leave…”
After all, a boss like him was rare.
He sniffled.
“Okay.”
He went downstairs, bought a $5 combo meal from a hole-in-the-wall diner.
He pushed the meal towards me, pulling out a plain bread and some pickled vegetables for himself.
“See this? I’m useless and penniless. If you stay with me, this is your life now. Cheap food.”
I wasn’t fazed.
“What’s wrong with this food?”
I pointed at each item,
“Look. Carbs, protein, dietary fiber. Pretty balanced! And seriously, five bucks for ribs? This guy’s practically running a charity!”
I split the plastic fork, gave him most of the ribs.
After all, I conserve energy by lying down whenever possible.
Low calorie burn means I don’t eat much anyway.
His eyes reddened further.
“Are you… really okay with this?
“But before, with me, you ate…”
Yeah, before, every meal was cooked by a Michelin chef at home.
Western, Japanese, Thai… lobster, sea cucumber, king crab… endless variety.
So what?
I couldn’t be bothered to chew.
Just turned everything into puree and drank it.
But now? Impossible.
That blender got repossessed along with the penthouse.
I ate the sweet-and-sour ribs.
Hmm. Tastier than puree.
Meeting my clear gaze, Christopher sighed.
He started rambling,
“Fine… I spoiled you before, you don’t know what real hardship is… you’ll understand eventually.
“Your youth is precious, wasted on me? If you regret it, leave anytime.
“I won’t touch a cent of that card money. Bankruptcy was my mismanagement, my debt alone to shoulder…”
I felt headache.
The before Christopher?
Aloof, brooding, man of few words.
The new Christopher?
A total worrywart dad.
I patted his head, interrupting the monologue.
“Alright, stop. Isn’t all that rambling exhausting?
“Your eyes are bloodshot. Haven’t slept properly in days, right? Come here. Let’s get some proper rest.”
I opened my suitcase.
Before the bank sealed the house, they’d let me take a few cheap personal items.
I thought about it, took the pillow and duvet.
However tough things get, a good sleep is the first step to facing the next day.
The bedding was soft, warm.
Slipping under felt like being cradled by clouds.
Christopher didn’t hold me, breaking his habit.
He turned away, shoulders shaking, muffling sobs for a while.
As I was drifting off…
He kissed the top of my head.
“Luna… I will give you a good life again.”
From that day, Christopher found his resolve.
He worked three jobs, busy as a bee, driving himself like a pack mule.
Out running errands during the day, freelancing business plans for students evenings, then squeezing in a few food delivery runs after closing his laptop.
He said, “If I didn’t hustle harder, you might starve.”
Sigh.
Truth was, I was researching how to make money lying down.
Research made me sleepy again.
…
Alright. Sleep first.
Just before burrowing under the covers, inspiration struck.
Set up the camera. Live-streamed my sleeping.
I yawned.
Within minutes, deep asleep.
Viewers dropped in, thinking it was a stunt –
I’d jump up and yell “Thanks, boss!” if there was a gift.
Someone tossed a virtual rose.
Nothing happened.
I was sleeping very soundly.
He wouldn’t give up, sent virtual sunglasses.
Still no reaction.
His stubborn streak kicked in.
He kept gifting, determined to see me wake up.
Rainbow, paper airplane, hot air balloon…
Higher-value gifts pushed the stream to more viewers.
Crowds gathered, watching me sleep.
Chat scrolled:
“Damn, she is putting on airs? How much to wake her up??”
“Sleeping live-stream? Why so many viewers? Boring. Leaving.”
“But she sleeps so peacefully. Jealous of that.”
“That bedding looks comfy. Link?”
“Want same pajamas pls.”
When I finally woke up.
I had a hundred bucks in stream revenue.
Plus an offer from a pajama brand to show their pajamas.
I was thrilled!
This income meant Christopher wouldn’t have to deliver food.
I was about to call him, share the good news.
Next second, a voice in my head.
The long-absent system was back.
Last time, it cursed Christopher useless, me ‘Useless Pro Max’.
After that rant, realizing I didn’t care, it rage-quit, leaving me alone.
But this time…
It didn’t scold me.
It sounded… excited.
“Damn girl, you’re a legend!
“My bad for yelling last time! Shoulda known you were a wild card!”
I was baffled: ???
I didn’t do anything?
The system was thrilled,
“That’s why you’re a wild card!
“Precisely because you did nothing, the plot took a bizarre detour!
“Christopher’s not just motivated… Tonight, while delivering food, he got an order to an upscale neighborhood!
“He met the female lead – his childhood sweetheart – WAY ahead of schedule!”
…Huh?
Couldn’t avoid this after all?
So… did that mean… I had to leave now?
A chilling realization hit me.
Everything in this world followed a set script.
No matter how much I avoided it, what was meant to happen, would happen.
I accepted this calmly.
(Too lazy to fight it, really.)
I asked the system,
“What’s Christopher’s ‘childhood sweetheart’ like?”
The system introduced her.
Her name was Sophia Reed.
Christopher’s high school classmate, his deskmate, the studious type.
Stood by him when he was isolated, tutoring him despite gossip.
When Christopher’s gambler dad blew his tuition, nearly getting him expelled?
She squeezed her own living expenses to lend him the money.
Christopher never told me these stories.
Even if I ever asked curiously…
He’d just pat my head, said casually,
“Past story.
“No need to pick at old scars.”
For some reason…
Hearing this… made me sad.
This sudden ‘rival in love’… I felt zero jealousy.
Not just Christopher.
Anyone would like her.
Sophia was… genuinely good.
“I’ll leave. Make space for them.”
My nose tingled.
“But before I go… what’s my ending?
“You owe me time to plan my future, right?”
“Well…”
The system vanished briefly, returned,
“Sorry, you’re just a plot device. The author didn’t flesh you out or write your post-exit life.
“But this world’s flexible! Explore it!”
No way!
Exploring sounds exhausting!
I just wanted cozy laziness!
To secure my future sloth…
I decided to negotiate.
Sweet talk helps when asking favors!
I put on my best sad face.
“I might be minor, but I’m still the author’s precious creation!
“Can you ask if the brilliant, beautiful author can write me a nice ending? Pleeease?”
The system softened under my barrage of flattery.
It promised to petition the higher-ups. Just wait for news.
Shortly after the system vanished, Christopher returned.
Maybe because of the reunion, he was an hour and a half later than usual.
Seeing me awake surprised him.
I probed carefully, “Where… were you tonight?”
Christopher froze.
Then smiled.
“Knew I couldn’t hide anything from you, sweetheart.”
He revealed his left hand, hidden behind his back.
A fancy paper bag held a Charlotte cake… strawberry flavor.
Memories surfaced.
Early days with Christopher.
Because of work stress, he’d smoke on the balcony.
But no matter how long he aired out, the smell clung.
I’d wrinkle my nose sleeping.
Whatever.
He’s the boss. I should adapt to him.
Christopher noticed my furrowed brow.
Apologized softly.
“Sorry, sweetheart. You hate it, don’t you?”
He retreated to his study.
Later, there was no trace of tobacco smell in the house anymore.
Instead, there was the sweet aroma of small cakes.
He said he’d received an order from a pastry shop, saw my favorite cake, bought it.
But now… this cake felt…
Less like a surprise gift.
More like… guilt-induced compensation.
Honestly.
If he’d been upfront tonight, I’d have blessed them.
But deception? Concealment? I couldn’t take it.
The lingering reluctance… finally evaporated.
I decided silently.
Once the system replied… I’d leave completely.
Next day, viewers asked if I was streaming.
They said my stream had a weirdly soothing vibe.
Insomniacs watched and instantly got drowsy.
I was baffled.
Under DM pressure, I live-streamed again.
Five days later, system sent the news.
“Author says, You get a side story.
“Make a wish. She’ll write it.”
I clasped my hands, made modest demands.
“I want a life free from hunger or worry.
“Easy job, good pay.
“Ideally… lying down earns cash.”
“Got it!”
Next second.
Phone pinged.
A newly opened four-star hotel DM’d me.
Hired me as a hotel tester. To promote the hotel.
Air tickets and meals are included.
I was ecstatic.
This job was MADE for me!
I clasped my hands again, looked skyward, devoutly, “Thank you, author!”
But it was Christopher’s birthday.
To not ruin it, I’d leave tomorrow.
Checked my stream earnings.
After days live-streaming, I got $700.
$500 for my living expenses.
$200 left… I went out, ordered a birthday cake.
Dark room.
Only candlelight glowed.
I put a party hat on him, sang a birthday song.
Urged him to make a wish.
“Well then…”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“…Never be separated from my love.”
Oh.
I said sourly, “It’ll happen.”
Next day, he left for work.
I packed my things.
Deleted all contacts, tossed my SIM card.
Left a note:
[When you read this, I’m gone.
[Can’t hack this life anymore. We shared the good times, you keep the bad alone.
[Truth is, my earlier words were lies. I gambled you’d bounce back and spoil me worse.
[Looks uncertain now, so I’m out. Call me shallow.
[Thanks for everything. Don’t look for me… Hope your birthday wish comes true.
[— Luna Reed]
When Christopher returned that night…
Opened the note…
My plane had landed 1200 miles south in Riverbend City.
I hadn’t expected…
Leaving felt clean.
But withdrawal… hit hard.
Memories flooded back.
We’d shared so much time.
How could I forget overnight?
Christopher sometimes had nightmares.
He’d cry in his sleep.
This decisive, controlled man… was vulnerable and sad.
I’d wrap my arms around him, pat gently, whisper,
“Shh… no tears… here, hold me…”
It always worked.
Tears stopped. Peaceful sleep returned.
Now, I hugged myself.
Seeking comfort.
But emotions surged like tides.
Resistance only made them stronger.
I went out, sat on a park bench, softly cried.
A ginger cat trotted over, sniffed me.
Probably hungry, belly was flat.
I bought kibble and water from a nearby store.
The cat ate, stayed.
I waved my arm, shooing motion.
“Full? Go now. Need to cry…”
Not sure if it understood.
Sat leaning against my calf, silently keeping watch.
I cried harder.
Picked up the cat.
This cat had saintly patience.
Even covered in my tears and snot, didn’t hiss at me.
Finally, I felt awkward.
Stopped crying, wiped my nose on it.
“Cat. Thanks.”
“You’re a good cat.”
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