Maybe writing a book about his dead lover wasn't a great idea.

Jongsun Ka was still weeping and mourning over you ever since you looked lifeless in his arms on that train track. He was desperate for your touches that were as soft as silk, your voice that sounds like a lullaby. He was still blaming himself for your death.

His eyes widened as he saw you reincarnated, standing inside his house as he caressed your cheek, searching for your warmth. Finally.

"I-is that you?"