chapter 1

Meet Ha-Yoon. Twenty-six years old. Small stature. Big emotions. Zero romantic prospects.

But honestly? Who needed a boyfriend when she had:

A fat, judgmental cat who tolerated her existence (on good days, if she was lucky).

A consistent diet of instant ramen and convenience store snacks that barely kept her alive but made her soul happy.

A full-time emotional commitment to fictional men who suffered beautifully in high-stakes romance plots, destroying her heart with every agonizing page.

Right now, her soul, her sanity, and quite possibly her entire future happiness belonged to Crimson and Code, a dangerously angsty, soul-destroying BL novel on web novel featuring an undercover agent and a mafia boss locked in a deliciously twisted game of cat and mouse.

Enemies to lovers? Check. Mind games that left her gasping for air? Check. A morally gray mafia kingpin who could either kill you or kiss you, depending on his mood? DOUBLE CHECK.

Ha-Yoon was obsessed. No, obsessed wasn't strong enough. She was possessed. She had sold her soul to this story, willingly and without hesitation. It was the kind of tale that gnawed at her sanity, leaving her a feral mess in its wake.

And today, she was about to experience an emotional breakdown in real-time.

She sat hunched over in the middle of a crowded, unsuspecting bus, her entire existence illuminated by the bluish glow of her phone screen. The world around her was a blur of white noise—the faint hum of the bus engine, the occasional chatter of passengers, the distant beeping of a crosswalk signal. None of it mattered. Not when she was deep in the trenches of heartbreak, betrayal, and sheer literary perfection.

Then—it happened.

A scene so good. So utterly, life-alteringly perfect.

A scene that reached into her chest, grabbed her fragile little fangirl heart, and promptly drop-kicked it into oblivion.

Ha-Yoon forgot where she was.

"KYAAA—!!!"

Her squeal of ultimate fangirl destruction exploded through the bus, slicing through the peaceful silence like a knife through warm butter.

Passengers jerked their heads around, eyes wide with alarm.

A middle-aged woman clutched her purse as if about to be robbed. A teenage boy physically recoiled as if she had just summoned a demon. A salaryman narrowed his eyes, gripping his briefcase like he was ready to file a noise complaint with the heavens themselves. Even the bus driver, a grizzled man who had probably seen it all, threw a nervous glance in the rearview mirror, as if assessing whether a crime was currently in progress.

Ha-Yoon, realizing the absolute disgrace she had just performed in public, slapped a hand over her mouth so hard that she nearly knocked her phone out of her grip.

'OH, GOD. OH, GOD. I HAVE EMBARRASSED MY ANCESTORS.'

Her entire body went rigid. Her soul attempted to escape. Her life flashed before her eyes.

She shrank into her seat like a deflated balloon, her eyes darting around in pure, unfiltered panic. The weight of a hundred judging stares bore down on her fragile existence. She immediately started bowing her head frantically at the other passengers, her face burning so hot it could boil water.

'Control yourself, Ha-Yoon! You are in PUBLIC. Get a grip!'

But how could she? How could she, when right now, Eun-Jae—her beloved, emotionally devastated protagonist—was seconds away from realizing the horrifying truth?

The truth that his so-called partner, his only trusted ally, the man who had been by his side through blood, sweat, and near-death experiences—

Was his enemy all along.

Her hands trembled as she scrolled faster, heart hammering against her ribs.

'Oh, no. No, no, no, baby, don't cry!' she mentally screamed.

Eun-Jae's hands shook. His breath hitched. His entire world was crumbling.

Ha-Yoon's heart was combusting.

This was it. This was PAIN. This was ART.

She clutched her phone as if it were her lifeline, as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth.

'I feel SO BAD for Eun-Jae… but also, DAMN, I love this drama.'

Tears of pure excitement burned in her eyes.

And then—Caesar spoke.

Caesar, the criminal mastermind, the deadly chess player behind it all, the devil in a tailored suit, turned slowly to face Eun-Jae.

His lips curved into a smirk.

And then he said—

"Oh, darling… I never was."

Ha-Yoon's entire body convulsed.

She gasped so loudly that the teenage boy next to her physically inched away, face contorted in a mix of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

'OH, YOU FILTHY, FILTHY, BEAUTIFUL, EVIL MAN.'

Her soul left her body. Ascended. Vanished into the heavens.

'This man is a WALKING BLACK FLAG.'

Tall. Dangerous. Manipulative. The kind of ML who could either ruin your life or ruin your bed, and the worst part? She would let him. She would let him and say 'thank you' afterward.

And yet—Ha-Yoon was rooting for him.

'But it's fine. It's fine. I'm colorblind when it comes to hot men, so it literally doesn't matter.'

A giggle-snort of pure, unfiltered fangirl joy escaped her before she could stop it.

The teenage boy turned his whole body away, refusing to acknowledge her existence. The middle-aged woman edged two seats down. The salaryman sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. The entire bus had collectively decided to disown her.

But Ha-Yoon? Ha-Yoon was too far gone.

Her fingers shook as she kept scrolling, her heart pounding, her mind screaming, her very being consumed by this god-tier storytelling.

'THIS. THIS is why I don't need a boyfriend.'

This?

This was true love.

The tension inside QR Restaurant's bustling kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife. The usual harmony of clattering pots and sizzling pans was overshadowed by a storm brewing at the center of it all—Head Chef Park.

His furious voice boomed through the kitchen, sending the junior chefs into a frantic rush as if his words alone could set the place ablaze. Everyone knew better than to test Mr. Park's patience, especially on a busy morning like this.

"WHERE THE HELL IS JIN HA-YOON?!" he bellowed, his face red with frustration as he slammed a ladle down onto the stainless-steel counter. A couple of the kitchen staff flinched, narrowly avoiding dropping their knives. The sound echoed ominously, like the ticking of a time bomb ready to explode.

Jinju, one of the senior chefs and Ha-Yoon's best friend since ninth grade, swallowed hard before stepping forward hesitantly. She knew there was no escaping this interrogation.

"Uh… S-Sir, she's on the way," Jinju stammered, gripping her phone tightly as if it could shield her from Chef Park's wrath.

Mr. Park turned to her, his piercing gaze sharp as a butcher's knife. "On the way?!" His voice was dripping with disbelief. "Do you know how many orders we have? Do you know what time it is?! We need her here ten minutes ago!"

Jinju gulped. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She could already feel the tension rolling off the kitchen staff. Ha-Yoon was one of the best chefs in the entire restaurant, and without her, the morning rush was going to be absolute chaos.

She quickly pressed Ha-Yoon's number, her hands slightly trembling. The phone rang, and after three unbearable seconds, her best friend's voice came through.

"Uhhh… hey, Jinju—"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Jinju hissed through gritted teeth, stepping into a corner of the kitchen for some privacy, though Mr. Park's laser-sharp ears were definitely picking up every word.

"I'm on my way! Traffic. Serious traffic," Ha-Yoon's voice came through, a little too nonchalant for someone whose boss was seconds away from a nuclear meltdown.

"Traffic?! Are you kidding me?!" Jinju whisper-yelled, her pulse quickening. She risked a glance at Mr. Park, whose expression had gone from furious to absolutely homicidal. "Ha-Yoon, I swear to God, if you don't get your ass here in the next five minutes, we're both going to be JOBLESS!"

"I'm trying! It's just—" Ha-Yoon's voice cut off for a second, and in the background, Jinju could hear a cacophony of honking horns and angry shouts.

Jinju's eye twitched. "Please don't tell me you're still in a cab."

"... I may or may not be still in a cab."

Jinju pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience thinning by the second. "Jin Ha-Yoon, I swear if I have to go out there and cook your dishes for you—"

"NO! No, absolutely not!" Ha-Yoon suddenly sounded panicked. "Don't you dare touch my station! Remember what happened last time?"

Jinju clenched her jaw. Yeah, she remembered. The last time she tried to step in for Ha-Yoon, she had somehow mistaken salt for sugar and turned a five-star meal into an inedible monstrosity that left even the most loyal customers questioning their life choices.

"I will be there," Ha-Yoon promised hastily. "Two minutes. Maybe three. Five max."

Jinju exhaled sharply. "Make it two."

She hung up and turned back to Mr. Park, who was tapping his foot, arms crossed, watching her expectantly. His expression said one thing: Well?

"She's almost here," Jinju said quickly.

Mr. Park narrowed his eyes, then let out a long, frustrated sigh. "You better tell her to get her ass here NOW." He stormed off, barking more orders at the kitchen staff, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Jinju wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Ha-Yoon, you better start running."

"I'M HERE, I'M HERE!!"

Jin Ha-Yoon practically crashed through the restaurant doors like a contestant in an obstacle course finale, panting like she had just finished a marathon. Her chest heaved, sweat clung to her forehead, and her hair was a chaotic mess from running. A few customers sitting near the entrance turned to look at her, startled by her dramatic entrance, while one child actually started clapping as if she had won something.

Ha-Yoon had no time to bask in the unwanted attention. She immediately bolted towards the staff changing room, nearly colliding with a server carrying a tray of drinks. "SORRY!" she yelped before skidding around the corner.

The second she reached the changing room, she tore off her jacket, grabbed her neatly folded uniform from her locker, and wriggled into it at lightning speed. Her limbs flailed as she tried to shove her legs into her pants while hopping in place like an uncoordinated flamingo.

"Come on, come on, come onnnn—YES!" she hissed as she finally managed to zip up.

With a deep breath, she yanked on her chef's hat, checked herself in the mirror for two seconds (looking like a disheveled raccoon, but there was no time to care), and then let out a dramatic sigh. Her gaze landed on her phone, which was still open to the last chapter of Crimson and Code.

"S-Sorry, novel…" Ha-Yoon whispered, lovingly caressing her phone like a tragic lover. "I need to go to work now. But as soon as I'm free, I'll come back to you." She pressed a dramatic kiss to the screen, eyes glistening with devotion.

Unbeknownst to her, Min-Jae stood in the corner of the changing room, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, watching the whole thing with undisguised disgust.

Min-Jae and Ha-Yoon had never gotten along. Not only was Ha-Yoon considered the best chef in QR Restaurant, but she had the audacity to be effortlessly better than everyone else. Especially Min-Jae, who had worked her ass off to climb the ranks. Every time Mr. Park praised Ha-Yoon, Min-Jae swore she could feel her soul combusting in real-time. And now? Seeing Ha-Yoon make out with her phone like a lunatic just confirmed what Min-Jae had always known—Ha-Yoon was an absolute weirdo.

She's lucky she's talented… but not for long.

Min-Jae smirked. She had a plan.

Meanwhile, Ha-Yoon—completely unaware that her existence was being plotted against—happily skipped out of the changing room and straight into hell.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

Mr. Park's roar nearly knocked Ha-Yoon's soul out of her body. The head chef stood in the middle of the kitchen, his expression resembling an enraged dragon about to breathe fire. The entire staff froze in terror, the kitchen falling into a tense silence.

Ha-Yoon barely managed to open her mouth before—

"GET TO WORK!" Mr. Park thundered, slicing through any excuse she might have had like a knife through butter.

"Y-Yes, sir!" Ha-Yoon squeaked, slapping on a forced, innocent smile before speed-walking to her station.

As she reached her counter, she grabbed the order slip waiting for her. Table 74 and 76.

She glanced at the requests and—

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me."

Table 74 had ordered the restaurant's most complicated dish—one that took precise timing and skill to execute perfectly. Table 76? Oh, just a huge group of businessmen who had ordered ten different things, all of which needed to be cooked simultaneously.

Ha-Yoon inhaled deeply, gripping the order slip like it had personally wronged her.

"Alright. This is fine. This is totally fine."

This is NOT fine.

She glanced up, catching a glimpse of Min-Jae watching her from across the kitchen with a smug expression. Ha-Yoon narrowed her eyes. Suspicious. Very suspicious. But there was no time to think about that right now. Right now, she needed to cook like her life depended on it.

With a quick, determined nod, she cracked her knuckles. "Let's do this."The kitchen descended into chaos, and in the center of it all was Ha-Yoon, moving like a madwoman, flipping pans, tossing ingredients, and somehow—somehow—keeping everything under control.

Or so she thought.

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