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Summary
“I was ready to let you go, to let you slip out between my fingers, but now…” Chan trailed off and shook his head in faux pity. “Now you can no longer leave me. You’re mine, sweetheart.”
Minho blinked at him, slowly piecing together the clues he had been given. His eyes widened when he realized what Chan was implying.
“You said you’d never sell your soul, but, Minho, you already have.”
Or, Minho thought he could quit Chan. If only he had known it was far too late.
