I have a soul-destroying corporate job, I iron my underpants, and I was unceremoniously dumped for an influencer hippie a few years ago. Every day feels the same, and I don’t know how much longer I can cope before I do something unhinged like rip off my shirt in the middle of my co-worker’s office birthday party and smear lemon cake all over my chest. Then, a case of mistaken identity suddenly lands me in the middle of a covert professional wrestling league, which is apparently being run in the basement of my office building. Weird. Even weirder are the wrestlers. They seem… otherworldly. So does the rest of the staff. And the audience. Pretty much everyone except boring old me. And then there's the owner, Holt Hector, with whom I have an extremely embarrassing first encounter. He’s ridiculously attractive, even in the inhuman cosplay get-up he's wearing that only makes him hotter if I'm being totally honest. Then, I discover it’s not a costume. And that the show put on by Goliaths of Wrestling every night is a more monstrous reality than mindblowing special effects. My previously boring life is suddenly no longer quite so average, and hot-as-hell Holt is inexplicably as interested in me and my ironed underpants as I am in him and his strange new world.