Jeon Jungkook lives an arcane life because he has a secret that he wishes to hide from the world, and he enjoys anonymity, which could otherwise be an unaffordable luxury in his kind of life. He fears that stepping out of the shadows could potential...
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*Three months later*
Hae-Yeon
Dear Sarang,
I am doing much better and thank you so much for constantly checking on me. I truly appreciate it that you are thinking about me, my daughter, and our well-being.
And about the new music, well, since you’re my favorite admirer and the only one to whom I actually reply, I think I should give you some spoilers, right? As always, I trust that you wouldn’t spoil it for anyone else around you.
The new solo track that I’m working on is produced and sung by me, and I’m ready with the melody. Just some lyrics are not fitting in as nicely as I would love them to, but I’m pretty sure I’ll have it all figured out soon. One more spoiler for you since I’m in the mood for it today—this song is going to be part of the OST of an upcoming drama. I believe I’ve given you a good chunk of information on the work front, right?
So, enough about me. How have you been? How’s your work and life treating you? I also asked you something in the last letter to which you haven’t yet replied. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you dodged that question in your reply. I told you how old I am, so it is only fair for me to know how old you are, and I wouldn’t mind even if you’re a sixty-year-old grandma, but just tell me your age so that I don’t accidentally end up writing any flirty reply letters when I’m drunk, just in case you are actually sixty years old or something.
As always, I’m looking forward to hearing from you.
Love, Jake
Holding the letter in one hand, and my morning cup of steaming coffee in my other hand, I smile to myself, sitting at the windowsill with my feet propped up. My eyes scan through the letter once again, before a small sigh escapes my lips, and then I bring the cup to my lips to take a sip of my morning elixir.
I trail my eyes over the city’s towering skyline in the distance while the gentle morning breeze blowing in through the open window of my thirteenth-floor studio apartment tousles my bed hair and tries to make it wilder than it already is.
A reply letter from my favorite musician and singer, Jake, never fails to brighten up my day. It has been a little over two months since I started writing to him, and, honestly, I have no idea how I catapulted my way to becoming the only chosen fan to whom he writes back—or at least that’s what he claims.
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised even if I began an internal debate about whether or not I am developing romantic feelings for him.
