The Campus Bell had just rang,
Han Joon-woo blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the classroom around him. Everyone was packing their bags, chatting casually, the low hum of post-class energy filling the space. He rubbed his eyes, still blurry, trying to remember if the professor had even started lecturing. Three hours had passed..or maybe just one? He didn't know.
The professor, a tall man with a stern face softened by years of teaching patience, had noticed Joon-woo's habitual sleepiness long ago. Now, he approached with measured steps, arms crossed.
"Mr. Han… Joon-woo," the professor called, voice calm but with an edge. "Could you stay back for a moment?"
Joon-woo swayed slightly, gathering his bag with clumsy motions. "Yes, Professor," he murmured, feeling the weight of every sleepy glance from his classmates.The professor reminded him of him going to fail the class as he never handed any works that was truly completed.
As a student of the major photograph and creative idea, the homeworks assigned were simple as ever, take picture of something he deemed "cherishable".
"I have seen your latest works", the professor said.
But everything he took pictures of seemed uninspired: a piece of a sandwich, the faces of his friends, and other things barely worth calling photographs.
The professor always looked out for Joon-woo because he believed he had the potential to become a great photographer, but the thing was…
Joon-woo started to feel like it had been a mistake to spend money on a talent he only thought he had. As a kid, he had always loved taking photos with the small camera his parents bought for him.
But after a year in university, he hadn't been able to find anything that gave him the feeling he needed to take a great photo.
"I'll try my best, Professor," Joon-woo said uncertainly.
The professor shook his head and told him he could leave, but made him promise to submit his homework on time.
After leaving his department, he wandered around the campus garden, searching for something the professor might call 'cherishable.
But after a few minutes, the only photo he had gotten were just a few birds in the sky, fallen leaves in the ground and even took a photo of the cleaning lady sprinkling water on the flowers.
"I've had enough of this!" he shouted toward the sky.
He hadn't been able to find anything that gave him the feeling he needed to take a great photo. Joon-won started to feeling to give up.
At that very moment, he noticed a girl walking across the campus garden, looking as though she was heading to class maybe. She moved with quiet purpose, her gaze fixed ahead, seemingly unaware of his presence. Something about the way she carried herself caught his attention, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded into the background as he watched her pass by.
Without realising it, his hand reached for his camera, instinctively focusing the lens on the girl as she entered the frame.
She was standing near the bulletin board outside the arts hall, leaning slightly on one hip, pen in hand, her eyes scanning a page with focused precision. Her posture was perfectly straight, the kind of controlled grace a model might cultivate without even thinking about it. Even in casual clothes of a soft sweater and jeans, she exuded presence. It wasn't the usual kind of beauty that demanded attention; it was quiet, effortless, almost intimidating in how natural it felt.
He slowed his steps, almost without realizing. Not in a creepy way, he told himself he was just an observer, like his own camera had come to life.
And snapped.
Light hit her face in just the right angle. The scene perfectly balanced, quietly beautiful made him pause. He imagined how it would look through a lens, the warm light framing her hair, the calm determination in her eyes.
Before he could think better of it, she turned.
Their eyes met.
Her expression shifted instantly not surprise, not anger, but a clear, quiet disapproval.
She frowned slightly, stepping back, her gaze flicking to the camera and then back at him. It was the look someone gave a stranger who had already crossed an invisible line.
"Oh sorry," Joon-woo said quickly, lowering the camera. "I wasn't"
She didn't wait.
She turned on her heel and walked away, graceful yet brisk, like she was a character moving through a scene he wasn't part of.
Joon-woo stood frozen, mid-sentence, feeling like he'd just been tried and sentenced without ever speaking.
"…taking a photo," he muttered quietly to himself, the words hanging uselessly in the empty air.
He replayed the moment over and over: camera up, eye contact, her reaction.
Ah.
He sighed.
"Great," he muttered. "I look like a creep."
He tried convincing himself it was a one-time misunderstanding. She didn't know him, he didn't know her, and campus was big. Maybe they'd never cross paths again.
Three hours later, the universe had other plans.
"One ice Americano, please," Joon-woo talking to a barister.
The café was small, tucked into a quiet street, with soft jazz drifting from the speakers and mismatched chairs that gave it a lived-in charm. Joon-woo ordered a coffee, thinking he could quietly watch the world go by and maybe sketch out ideas for an upcoming photo assignment.
And then he saw her.
Sitting by the window. Notebook open. Pen gliding over paper. The sunlight caught her hair just so, making it look almost like a halo. She was focused, serene… and utterly, impossibly out of reach.
He froze.
The logical part of his brain screamed: Sit somewhere else. Pretend you don't exist.
The other part slightly insane and definitely curious ordered him to sit at the only empty chair next to her.
"Why is the universe doing this to me?"
His chair scraped loudly against the floor. He cursed silently.
She looked up.
Recognition flickered across her face. And then the wall.
Her shoulders stiffened. She drew her notebook slightly closer to herself, eyes returning to the page as if he were invisible.
Joon-woo sat, trying desperately to act normal. Every nerve screamed that he was failing.
He stole sideways glances. Every time their eyes almost met, she quickly looked down. Her focus was absolute; her calm demeanor only made him more nervous.
And he noticed things the small tilt of her head, the way her fingers lightly drummed on the notebook, the perfect posture that seemed both effortless and controlled. She was clearly a model, even if she didn't think about it at the moment.
Time stretched painfully. He sipped his coffee, trying to look like a casual observer of the world. He knocked over his cup slightly, swearing under his breath, and hoped she didn't notice. She did, and he caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth a hint of irritation, or perhaps amusement.
Minutes later, she packed her things, moving with that same calm precision, and as she passed, she spoke.
"Please don't take pictures of people without asking."
Polite. Firm. Final.
Joon-woo stared at his coffee like it had personally betrayed him.
"I didn't," he muttered weakly even though he did.
He didn't think twice; he wanted to clear the misunderstanding, rushing toward the door as it closed.
Outside, the sun was starting to dip, painting the streets in gold and pink. She disappeared into the crowd, and he followed her with his gaze, frustrated and oddly unsettled.
"I don't even know your name," he muttered. "And somehow… you already hate me."
He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging. A normal semester, he thought. No drama. Just classes and photography.
Except now, this small, awkward, accidental encounter had planted a seed. One he wasn't ready to pull out yet.
The semester had just begun. The misunderstanding had just begun. And somehow, Joon-woo knew it was the first frame of a story that refused to stay out of focus.
End of Chapter 1