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Summary
Sometimes Minho allowed himself to imagine it. How sweet Jisung’s flesh would taste on his tongue. He would braise him over an open flame for hours until his meat fell off the bone, tender to the touch. He would portion out his lovely Jisung carefully, stretching out the meal as long as possible, eating a tiny amount every day to truly savor his boy. And when he had eaten every part of him, saving the heart for last?
Minho was not an easily frightened man, but he shuddered to imagine what he would do then, deprived of his Jisung for good.
Or: Detective Han Jisung meets a psychiatrist with more to him than meets the eye.