CHFL Chapter 1 Part 1

1) It’s Too Good to Forget

There are people in this world who should not even dare to be born. For example, the bugs that start with ‘Cock,’ which are not only useless but also disgusting, or Chae Soo, who is worse than those bugs.

Of course, I know it’s rude to curse someone else’s precious son, but I’m sure people who know the details of what happened between Chae Soo and me will nod in agreement—at least to some extent. The problem is that, unfortunately, no one knows those details.

Some might say that Chae Soo’s outward appearance lives up to his name. He comes from a good family, is good-looking, and has impressive skills. People without a partner, regardless of gender, might have admired Chae Soo at least once. However, he is not like the humble actor Choi Woo-soo but he is Chae Woo-soo. Chae Soo, who only looks flashy on the outside, has an awful personality, and some people suffer unfairly because of him.

Today was no different. Even though he knew I was about to park, Chae Soo suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pushed my car out of the spot, and took it for himself. And even though he heard me ask him to wait a moment, he pressed the elevator close button exactly six times, making the door shut on my face before going up to his office first.

Was that all? Not only did he publicly humiliate me during meetings, but he also dumped all the minor tasks onto me. And although the company cafeteria serves delicious food, he deliberately led his team out for lunch, forcing me to eat stir-fried octopus—knowing full well how much I despise it.

No, wait. If you think I have a personality problem just because of these minor annoyances, you’re gravely mistaken. He even brought up the fact that I won an employee excellence award—just so he could manipulate me into buying that stir-fried octopus, which I absolutely detest. Is there anyone more evil than this man?

Even a flea’s liver has its limits…

As I handed over my card at the restaurant counter with trembling hands, I decided that from now on, I would hate Chae Soo as much as I hate stir-fried octopus.

Of course, a person’s heart doesn’t change instantly—like a hammer striking someone—just because they decide to. However, it’s incredibly easy to dislike someone you already disliked a little.

I’ve always hated being responsible for picking up the slack. So, what a perfect opportunity this is.

From the very beginning. If we interpret the phrase “from the beginning” in a dictionary sense, I could say that my first impression of Chae Soo wasn’t that bad. In fact, I had no reason to hate him at first.

It’s not that I’m the type to judge a man purely by his looks. It’s just that Chae Soo exists in an absolute realm where his appearance is objectively appealing—so there was no need to twist that perception from the start.

There’s an old saying: “A rice cake that looks good tastes good.” Chae Soo was definitely a rice cake that looked good and tasted good—he was practically a work of art.

Hmm. Anyway, there were many fragmented memories between Chae Soo and me, but none of them formed a special narrative. At least, that’s how I remember it. The human brain is great at recalling even the smallest details, yet it’s also prone to forgetting major events. Well, in the latter case, it’s more accurate to say we pretend not to know.

That’s what Chae Soo was to me. I still remember small details about him—like the song he hums when he’s in a good mood or the clothes he wore on our blind date. It’s not because I have an exceptional memory, and it’s certainly not because I ever tried to remember these trivial things about him.

It all just started with Chae Soo’s arrogant, self-assured exterior. Just like now, back in college, he naturally attracted attention to wherever he went. He must have been so charming as a college student—when he was still biologically young.

Every step he took was enough to shake up not just the College of Natural Sciences but the entire university. So, in hindsight, it was strange that I, a student from the same department, didn’t know about him sooner.

I first met Chae Soo in a Modern Physics Experiment course—a required major class during my second year of college. At the time, he was a third-year student and had to retake several subjects to manage his grades. That experiment was probably one of them.

Now that I think about it, there wasn’t really a reason for him to retake a two-credit lab class. But back then, as a clueless freshman, I wouldn’t have questioned it. At 21, I was still somewhat naive and innocent.

So, I ended up in the same lab group as him. That was when I personally greeted Chae Soo for the first time and exchanged numbers with him.

Although I hate filling in for others now, back then, we worked together surprisingly well as partners—something I hate to admit even now. Whether it was during lab sessions or preparing and organizing reports, we were constantly in contact, meeting up to complete our work, and writing preliminary and final reports in the research library, aligning our schedules.

To be honest, there was no need for that. Even though we conducted experiments together, writing the reports was each person’s individual responsibility. Despite that, Chae Soo helped me by bringing me his reports and research materials. Until then, I thought his personality was just as good as his looks.

So, when I say I hated Chae Soo from the beginning, I have to exclude that time.

The reason I’m looking back more than ten years into the past is simple: I want to emphasize that my first relationship with Chae Soo was purely business. Back then, I had absolutely no romantic interest in him.

And so, whatever other people thought of us—well, that was something to be judged later.

“Senior Han.”

“Yes?”

Chae Soo, who was standing in front of the restaurant, handed me a candy as I turned to look at him. A plum-flavored candy. Look at this. Look at him deliberately picking it out, even though he obviously knows that I don’t like plums. He nodded as if he was doing me a favor and put the candy in his pocket. From that same pocket, he grabbed another grape-flavored candy—the one he had given me a few days ago.

He doesn’t even know my taste in candy…

I glanced at Chae Soo for no reason, then stepped forward to check where the rest of the team had gone. It seemed that while I was paying, they had headed to the café in the alley next door to buy coffee. No need to check—I already knew. The life of an office worker always ends with an Americano for dessert, no matter what the lunch menu is.

Unfortunately, I don’t drink caffeine, so I decided to wait outside with Chae Soo, who was similar to me in that regard. My expression crumpled like a receipt stuffed into my pocket from an unexpected expense. Chae Soo saw it and smirked—a ridiculous, infuriating smirk. It was the kind of smile that looked good on the outside but made my blood boil inside, like freshly made stir-fried octopus.

“I had a good lunch, Senior Han.”

I barely nodded, not even wanting to respond, and Chae Soo’s eyebrows twitched. I glanced at the annoying movement of his brows, and when our eyes met, he rolled his eyes dramatically. His gaze then landed on the flower pots lined up in front of the restaurant, as if they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world.

Let me say it again—I hated Chae Soo from the beginning. Or rather, from a certain point onward. So much so that I didn’t want to spend any more time with him if I could help it. Having nothing to say, I simply stared at the leaves on the flower pots, counting them with my eyes.

Just then, Chae Soo rolled the candy around in his mouth and casually muttered,

“I’ll buy you dinner tonight.”

“…What?”

Anyway. Even though stir-fried octopus isn’t expensive, it’s still a lot of money for someone like me, who struggles with credit card bills this time of year. If I’m going to let him treat me, I should at least order something more expensive than stir-fried octopus. No. Chae Soo has money—if I’m going to eat, I should definitely get something expensive.

Raw fish, maybe? No, meat would be better. But I’ve had too much meat this week, so raw fish it is. Fall is the season for raw fish, after all…

Wait. What am I even thinking?!

I snapped out of it and looked up at Chae Soo in shock. The sunlight behind him made his face blindingly bright, and I instinctively frowned. Strangely enough, he seemed to mirror my expression, a crease forming between his brows.

The man in front of me had the face of a male lead from a Wednesday-Thursday drama—the type who, even when frowning, looked like he was harboring some deep, unspoken pain rather than actually being scary.

I felt a mix of emotions that I couldn’t quite place and barely managed to speak, my voice hoarse, like a mermaid who had just regained her voice.

“Dinner tonight…?”

“You can’t skip dinner too, okay?”

“No, I mean—why would I go for a dinner with you, Chae?”

Instead of answering, Chae Soo stepped closer. I froze in surprise, and he smirked arrogantly, lowering his head just enough to cast a shadow over my face with his broad shoulders.

His cologne filled my nose, which was already suffering from chronic rhinitis. I wrinkled my nose and tried to turn my head away, but before I could, a large hand landed on my shoulder. I instinctively recoiled, but before I could push him away, he leaned in and whispered in a low, taunting voice.

“Why? We need to finish our conversation from yesterday.”

Ah.

More than his words, it was his gaze that made my breath hitch. Cold, unwavering. I shut my eyes tightly. My fists trembled inside my pockets, and I could feel the two candies in my palm about to break apart from the pressure.

Damn you, Chae Soo.

Of course, looking back on it now, I wasn’t entirely innocent either.

If I think about it rationally, what happened yesterday wasn’t that big of a deal. We just happened to leave work at the same time. Then we got stuck in the elevator together on the way home. It wasn’t even that long—about ten minutes, give or take.

As soon as the elevator stopped, I pressed the emergency button and calmly explained the situation to the staff. With a clear head, I leaned against the corner of the elevator, waiting. I had been through this before, so I wasn’t particularly fazed. Unlike last time, my phone battery was full, so I was even less concerned.

The real problem was Chae Soo.

He was slumped in the left corner, sweating profusely—even though we had only been trapped for five minutes.

I knew for a fact that Chae Soo had claustrophobia, though he did his best to hide it. Being the proud, dignified man he was, he probably didn’t want anyone knowing about his weaknesses. Unfortunately for him, I already knew.

It wasn’t because he told me. It was because of a similar incident years ago—an incident that, in a way, marked the beginning of our terrible relationship.

Still, I didn’t bother asking him, “Are you okay?” or “Don’t worry, we’ll be out soon.” Not because I was heartless like him, but because I knew that if I acknowledged his anxiety, it would only make things worse.

So I ignored him.