Product of Misunderstanding (Part 2)
Whether it was just a fleeting crush or something more, Chae Soo’s sharp, unwavering gaze felt like he already knew my heart would burn out first. His stare was so intense that my eyes kept darting away, unable to hold his for too long.
“I don’t do things like that.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I’m just going to ask you to date me.”
“…Right. I understand your dating style, sir.”
“So think carefully, Han Yeon-doo.”
I didn’t appreciate the way he spoke as if he were giving me homework.
“Think about what?”
“What do you think?”
“What am I supposed to be thinking about?”
“Just grab your coat. Let’s go eat.”
What was this feeling?
When Chae Soo turned his back to me, the faint smile on his lips felt unreadable. A bitter scent lingered at the tip of my nose, making my head spin. I found myself instinctively chasing after him, my steps quickening. Maybe… the center of my world had already shifted.
There were many reasons why I disliked Chae Soo, but the biggest one was how he always twisted situations to his advantage. He wasn’t exactly cunning—if anything, he was clumsy in his tricks—but he had a habit of interpreting everything in the most self-serving way. That was just the kind of person he was.
The first time we got stuck in an elevator together was a perfect example.
I think it was the last week of December. The research library, located in a relatively remote area, was usually deserted, but since it was snowing that day, it felt even eerier than usual.
I was there because of some summer semester project—though I barely remember the details now—but I had gone to borrow a book and happened to run into Chae Soo on the fifth floor. He had come for a similar reason.
At the time, I was consciously avoiding him.
I had been meeting a high school junior introduced to me by Ryu Ji-hwan, but my then-boyfriend was overly controlling, so I found myself instinctively keeping my distance from Chae Soo. That was also the time when my suspicions that Chae Soo was gay had reached their peak—thanks to a series of misunderstandings.
“Where’s your scarf?”
That was the first thing Chae Soo said to me after weeks of not seeing each other. No greeting, just that. His eyes were fixed on my face.
I rubbed my neck awkwardly.
I had spent Christmas apart from my boyfriend, so I had dressed up for our first date in a while. But the way Chae Soo asked about my scarf—it felt oddly similar to Why is your skirt so short? or Why do you think you look good in that?
“Where are you going?”
“On a date.”
Chae Soo, who had been staring at me blankly, nodded a couple of times. Then, without warning, he snatched the textbook I was holding.
It had been heavy in my arms, but in his hands, it looked weightless.
“Who carries a book this thick on a date?”
“I just figured I’d borrow it while I was out.”
We made small talk as we picked out a few more books and eventually stood in front of the elevator.
Should I have listened when he suggested taking the stairs? Probably.
But my feet were killing me from my shoes, so I insisted on waiting for the elevator. And Chae Soo, still holding my books, reluctantly got in with me.
Then, the elevator stopped.
It was an old building, so breakdowns weren’t unusual—but of course it had to happen when I was in it. The elevator rattled to a stop, the lights flickered, and soon, everything went pitch-black.
Surprisingly, I was the one who stayed calm.
Rich kids like Chae Soo weren’t used to handling these kinds of situations, but I was. I figured I’d wait a little before calling 119.
“Senior, let’s give it a minute and then report—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the light from his phone illuminated his face.
His expression was sheer panic.
His face had gone pale, his breath ragged—he looked like he had just seen the Grim Reaper.
“Are you okay?”
“Does this… look okay to you?”
Chae Soo, visibly struggling, finally slumped to the floor.
With a thud, the books in his hands scattered. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, making his already pale face look even worse. I quickly put my phone’s flashlight on the floor and reached for his scarf, loosening it. His breathing had turned dangerously erratic.
“We need to call 119. Now.”
But before I could even grab my phone, he weakly reached out and clutched my wrist.
“Don’t… Don’t call.”
“What? Why not?! This is serious, senior!”
“Just… don’t.”
His grip tightened, his voice barely a whisper.
I hesitated, feeling torn. His refusal was so insistent that it made me suspicious.
Did he commit some crime? Why is he panicking so much over a simple emergency call?
Still, I pulled my hand free and stood up, pressing the emergency bell again.
Nothing.
It was still dead.
Glancing back at him, I saw that he was now gasping for air.
Someone once suffocated to death in an elevator.
Dad, what would you have done? Secure an airway? Random bits of first-aid knowledge ran through my head. But first, I needed to call for help.
I reached for my phone, which I had left on the floor. The flashlight pointed at the ceiling, casting a dim glow over Chae Soo.
“…What are you doing?”
“I’m calling 119.”
“I told you not to!”
“Ah!”
The phone slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
Chae Soo had the audacity to glare at me—even after smacking away the hand of the person trying to help him. My wrist tingled where he’d struck me. If it had left a bruise, I wouldn’t have let it slide… but that could wait until after he was breathing properly again.
I bit my lip and picked up my phone. The elevator was filled with the sound of Chae Soo’s ragged breathing.
Whether you’re gasping like you’re dying or not… aren’t you just a total lunatic?
I grumbled internally as I gripped my phone, only to find the screen completely blank. I pressed the power button, but the battery had run out. The phone shut off completely, and the elevator was swallowed in darkness again.
I reached out blindly and banged on the elevator doors.
“Hey! Someone out there?”
Silence.
Right. The research library was about to close soon. Was I going to be stuck in here overnight?
I’ll be fine, but Chae Soo… if he keeps struggling like this, what if—
A wave of fear crashed over me, making my heart pound.
The sound of shoes scuffing against the floor echoed in the dark. My eyes, now adjusted, barely made out Chae Soo’s silhouette. He was still breathing heavily, which meant he was still alive.
I crouched down and helped him lie flat on the floor. Then, fumbling, I reached into his pants pocket, grabbed his phone, and turned on the flashlight.
In the dim glow, his face looked even paler.
He didn’t even seem aware of what I was doing. I quickly dialed 119.
“Rescue should arrive in about ten minutes,” the operator said.
I exhaled, but the relief didn’t last. Ten minutes felt like forever.
Should I do CPR? No—his breathing was still shallow, but it hadn’t stopped completely. But as soon as I thought that, his body went unnervingly still.
Wait—
I pressed my hand to his shoulder and shook him. No response.
I had no choice.
I pinched his nose, lifted his chin, and placed my mouth over his. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled into him, watching to see if his chest rose. I repeated it a few times.
Then, finally—
Chae Soo exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath.
If I had to pick the moment when Chae Soo truly became someone I couldn’t stand, this was it.
The moment I was so furious, I thought my blood might boil.
Even now, when I think about what happened afterward—how he acted so ungrateful, so completely unaware of who had just saved his life—my teeth clench on instinct.
That was the moment I started to hate him.
And I mean really, really hate him.
“…What did you just say?”
“Let’s date.”
I blinked.
Four words.
Four utterly ridiculous, impossible words.
I barely managed to gather my wits, forcing my expression into something neutral.
“That… no, wait. I think I misheard.”
“I hope you heard me correctly.”
“That… that can’t be right.”
“If you didn’t hear me, I’ll say it again. Let’s date, Han Yeon-doo.”
“Are you serious? Out of nowhere? With me? A girl?”
I racked my brain for an explanation.
Why was Chae Soo acting like this?
Was he trying to take responsibility because I had touched him? Was this some kind of weird honor code thing?
Wait… no way.
A guy who likes guys—
Oh.
Oh, really?
So this was a smokescreen.
Because I had touched him once, he wanted to use me as a show-window girlfriend? He couldn’t tell his family he was gay, so instead, he’d parade me around as his cover?
Even if that was the case, this was ridiculous. If he needed a fake girlfriend, he should at least explain things properly and offer something in return. Instead, he was just casually suggesting we date?
What kind of underhanded, sneaky—
My expression twisted with frustration as I leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like this, Manager.”
“Who asked you to like me? Don’t like me.”
“…You just said you wanted to date me.”
“You don’t have to like a guy to date him. Why bother with blind dates? Just date me.”
I watched, stunned, as he returned from the café counter with two cups of lemon ginger tea. He handed me one, his expression calm—too calm.
I scoffed.
Does he even know what kind of tea I like?
“But… you don’t even like women. No—you don’t even like me.”
“I’m trying.”
“Trying? Trying to like a woman?”
“It’s just about how you set your mind to it.”
“…Yeah? Then try harder.”
