Park Jae-sung was seeing things.

The rapper could have sworn he just saw Katie Wu exiting one of the conference rooms and heading down one of the SB Entertainment carpeted hallways. Jae-sung would know Katie’s body anywhere — petite and lean but soft and curvy in all the right places. He had spent his twenties with her, worshiping her naked form. Sometimes, he still dreamed of her.

But that couldn’t be. As far as Jae-sung knew, Katie was based out of Los Angeles now and wasn’t slated to return to Seoul ever again. She had let her contract at SB Entertainment lapse a few years ago, choosing not to re-sign when her term had ended.

Jae-sung had been secretly relieved when he’d heard the news a year after she’d vanished. Even then, hearing her name had still stung. If he was honest with himself, it still did.

His body moved without his own volition, and before he knew it, Jae-sung was chasing after the ghost of Katie, eager to prove his eyes wrong.


Letters to Artax

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