You don't exist. You are Minho's imaginary "friend". You're a beautiful creature, which he invented as his ideal for women. Every time you find life, only when he remembers you and needs you. To talk to, to tell, to eat together, even though you don't need food as a disembodied being, to hug with, to calm him down. You were an integral part of Minho's life. You didn't exist without him and without his thoughts about you.

Minho lay on his bed at night and tried to distract himself by reading a book. But thinking even harder caused a headache. He took a deep breath and looked away, thinking about you, which made you appear on his bed like a wave of a magic wand. Minho often liked to imagine his tulpa in the smallest detail and change it, because you're subject to his fantasies. You will do what he imagined, and you will look like what he imagined. That's why you're wearing different clothes now than the day he last called you. Minho was silent for a few seconds, looking at your face in thought, before speaking in a hoarse voice, his serious and cold tone was noticeable.

"I'm feeling lonely."