Before We Became Strangers

Chapter three

The Worst Pairing in Haneul University History

Han Seo-ah stared at the noticeboard.

Then she blinked.

Then she leaned closer, as if the names might rearrange themselves out of fear.

They didn't.

ARTS FESTIVAL PHOTOGRAPHY PROJECT — OFFICIAL PAIRINGS

HAN SEO-AH & KANG MIN-JAE

Seo-ah slowly turned to Park Yu-na.

"Tell me you're seeing what I'm seeing."

Yu-na adjusted her glasses. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Read it again."

"Han Seo-ah and Kang Min-jae."

"Maybe there's another Han Seo-ah."

Yu-na looked around the crowded hallway. "Do you see another girl standing here looking like she's about to commit a crime?"

Seo-ah sighed. "I hate this university."

"You've been here for approximately forty-eight hours."

"And it's been the longest forty-eight hours of my life."

Yu-na patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"At least he's handsome."

Seo-ah turned to her with an expression of pure betrayal.

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"A little."

"Yu-na, if I ever lose my mind and marry that boy, you have my permission to slap me."

"Can I record it first?"

"You're a terrible friend."

"And yet, I'm the only one standing between you and a public breakdown."

Seo-ah opened her mouth to respond, but a voice behind them interrupted.

"Talking about me already?"

Seo-ah closed her eyes.

Of course.

Because apparently, the universe had decided that her suffering needed an audience.

She turned around.

Kang Min-jae stood a few steps away, one hand in his pocket, his expression carrying the kind of confidence usually reserved for people who had never been told no.

Choi Ji-hoon stood beside him, looking far too entertained.

Min-jae glanced at the noticeboard.

Then at Seo-ah.

Then back at the noticeboard.

A slow smile appeared on his face.

"Interesting."

Seo-ah folded her arms. "What's interesting?"

"That the university has finally made a sensible decision."

She stared at him.

"You're right. It is interesting how someone can be so attractive and still say things that make people want to throw themselves into a swimming pool fully clothed."

Ji-hoon made a choking sound.

Min-jae's smile disappeared.

"Do you ever speak normally?"

"Do you ever deserve it?"

Ji-hoon turned away, covering his mouth.

Min-jae shot him a warning look.

"Something funny?"

"No," Ji-hoon replied immediately. "I'm mourning."

"For what?"

"My friend's peaceful university experience."

Seo-ah almost laughed.

Almost.

Then she remembered who she was dealing with.

Min-jae stepped closer to the noticeboard.

"Listen carefully, Han Seo-ah. I don't have time for childish arguments. We have a project to complete, and I expect you to take it seriously."

Seo-ah raised an eyebrow.

"Wonderful. We already agree on something."

He looked mildly surprised.

She continued, "I take my photography seriously. So if you plan to stand in front of my camera looking expensive and contributing nothing, please inform me in advance. I'll bring a different lens."

Ji-hoon bent forward, laughing.

Min-jae's jaw tightened.

"You're very confident for someone who knows absolutely nothing about me."

"And you're very offended for someone who claims not to care what I think."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Min-jae leaned slightly toward her.

"Don't mistake my patience for weakness."

Seo-ah met his eyes.

"Don't mistake my silence for fear."

Something changed in his expression.

Not affection.

Not admiration.

Something closer to irritation that had discovered a worthy opponent.

He straightened.

"Tomorrow. Eight in the morning. Photography studio."

Seo-ah frowned. "Why?"

"Because we need to discuss our project."

"There's a meeting scheduled for ten."

"Eight works better for me."

"Then meet yourself at eight."

She turned to leave.

"Han Seo-ah."

She stopped.

"What?"

"Don't be late."

Seo-ah smiled sweetly.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to disappoint you in person."

She walked away with Yu-na before he could respond.

Behind them, Ji-hoon finally lost the battle against his laughter.

Min-jae watched Seo-ah disappear into the crowd.

"I can't stand her."

Ji-hoon wiped his eyes.

"Of course you can't. That's why you've been staring at the place she disappeared for the last ten seconds."

Min-jae turned sharply.

"I was thinking."

"About her?"

"About how to survive this project without committing a crime."

"Should I be worried?"

"Very."

Ji-hoon grinned.

For the first time in a long while, Kang Min-jae had met someone who didn't seem remotely interested in impressing him.

And it was driving him insane.

---

8:07 A.M. — THE NEXT MORNING

Seo-ah arrived at the photography studio carrying her camera, a notebook, and a cup of iced coffee.

She was seven minutes late.

She considered this an achievement.

After all, she had spent the previous evening debating whether to attend the meeting at all.

In the end, her scholarship application had won.

She needed the arts festival exhibition to succeed. The prize included funding for photography equipment, and her current camera had developed a habit of freezing at the worst possible moments.

Last week, it had refused to take a picture of a perfectly beautiful sunset.

The day before, it had captured her own shoe instead of the professor standing in front of her.

She loved that camera.

But if it betrayed her one more time, she was going to sell it for spare parts.

Seo-ah pushed open the studio door.

Min-jae stood near the windows, dressed in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up. A laptop rested on the table beside him.

He checked his watch.

"You're late."

"Good morning to you too."

"Seven minutes."

"Congratulations. You can tell time."

He looked at the coffee in her hand.

"Is that coffee?"

"No, it's a sophisticated beverage designed to improve my ability to tolerate arrogant people."

"Then you should have brought a larger cup."

Seo-ah stared at him.

Min-jae looked perfectly serious.

Unfortunately, that made the comment funnier.

She quickly looked away before he could notice her smile.

"Let's get this over with."

She placed her camera on the table and opened her notebook.

Min-jae turned his laptop toward her.

"I've prepared a proposal."

Seo-ah looked at the screen.

The title read:

HANEUL UNIVERSITY: BEAUTY, LEGACY, AND EXCELLENCE.

She read it twice.

Then she looked at him.

"Is this a photography project or an advertisement for your family?"

Min-jae's expression hardened.

"It's a proposal."

"It's a brochure."

"It has a concept."

"So does a wedding invitation."

He closed the laptop halfway.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Actually, yes."

She opened her notebook.

"I want to photograph the university through the people who make it what it is. The cleaners who arrive before sunrise. The cafeteria workers who remember everyone's orders. Students studying in the library until their eyes turn red. The people who work part-time after lectures. The ones who struggle to afford equipment but still show up because they love what they do."

She paused.

"And the people who think this university belongs to them because their parents can afford the buildings."

Silence.

Min-jae's eyes narrowed.

"Was that last part necessary?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why say it?"

"Because it felt necessary."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You want to photograph people struggling?"

"I want to photograph people living."

"That's not the same thing."

"Exactly. Which is why I don't want to turn their lives into some inspirational sob story for rich students to feel good about themselves."

Min-jae studied her notebook.

For once, he didn't immediately argue.

Seo-ah continued, "The theme could be 'The Lives Behind the Lights.' Everyone sees the beautiful campus, the expensive buildings, the perfect photographs. But there's a whole world behind that image."

She turned the notebook toward him.

There were rough sketches of possible photographs, notes about lighting, and a list of places she wanted to visit.

Min-jae glanced at the pages.

"You've thought about this."

"It's almost as if I care about photography."

He ignored the remark.

"What if the subjects don't want to be photographed?"

"Then I ask permission."

"What if they refuse?"

"Then I respect their decision."

"And what if the photographs make the university look bad?"

Seo-ah slowly lowered her pen.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The real question."

Min-jae's expression cooled.

"Don't assume you know what I'm thinking."

"Then explain it to me."

He said nothing for a moment.

Finally, he answered, "The university is funding this exhibition. There are sponsors, faculty members, and people who expect a certain standard. You can't just photograph whatever you want and pretend consequences don't exist."

Seo-ah considered that.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

She hated that.

"I know," she said. "That's why I'll get permission, follow the rules, and make sure the photographs tell the truth without humiliating anyone. But I'm not going to make everyone look perfect just because perfection is easier to sell."

Min-jae looked at her for a long moment.

Then he opened his laptop again.

"Fine."

Seo-ah blinked.

"Fine?"

"We'll use your concept."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What's the catch?"

"There is no catch."

"You're Kang Min-jae. There's always a catch."

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"You know what? Forget it. We'll use my proposal."

"No, no. Let's not get emotional. I'm listening."

He looked like he regretted every decision that had brought him into the room.

"Your concept needs structure. We need a schedule, a list of locations, and a clear plan for the final exhibition."

Seo-ah nodded slowly.

"That sounds reasonable."

"And you'll send me the revised proposal by tomorrow."

"Also reasonable."

"And you'll attend every planning meeting."

"Fine."

"And you won't insult me during the project."

Seo-ah picked up her coffee.

"I can agree to try."

"Try?"

"I'm not a miracle worker."

He stared at her.

She smiled.

Their first meeting lasted another thirty minutes, during which they disagreed about locations, budgets, presentation styles, and whether Min-jae's handwriting looked like a medical emergency.

By the time they finished, Seo-ah had a headache.

Min-jae had developed a new appreciation for silence.

Neither was willing to admit that the project might actually work.

---

THE PROBLEM WITH KANG MIN-JAE

At eleven thirty, Min-jae received a call from his father.

He answered while walking toward the parking lot.

"Father."

"Kang Min-jae."

His father's voice was calm.

It was always calm when he was about to make something unpleasant.

"I heard you've been assigned to the university arts festival."

Min-jae stopped walking.

"Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

He said nothing.

"The university has invited several important guests to the exhibition. Your mother's foundation is also supporting the event. I expect you to represent the family properly."

"I know how to represent the family."

"Then behave accordingly."

Min-jae's grip tightened around his phone.

His father continued, "I also heard your project partner is a student named Han Seo-ah."

The name sounded different coming from him.

Colder.

"She's a photography student," Min-jae replied.

"I didn't ask for her department."

Min-jae frowned.

"What's the problem?"

"I understand her family doesn't have much money."

There it was.

The same old conversation dressed in different words.

Min-jae looked toward the university buildings.

"Her financial situation has nothing to do with the project."

"Everything has something to do with reputation."

"Not everything."

A pause followed.

His father rarely tolerated disagreement, especially from his only son.

"Be careful, Min-jae. People who have nothing often see wealthy families as opportunities."

Min-jae's expression darkened.

"Maybe people who have everything should stop assuming everyone wants something from them."

The silence on the other end was immediate.

Then his father spoke.

"You are becoming careless."

"I'm busy, Father."

"Do not embarrass this family."

The call ended.

Min-jae lowered the phone.

For a moment, he stood perfectly still.

Then he slipped it into his pocket and walked toward his car.

He told himself his father's opinion didn't matter.

He told himself the project was nothing more than a university assignment.

And he definitely didn't think about the way Seo-ah had defended her idea without once looking intimidated.

That would have been ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

---

A SMALL KINDNESS

The following afternoon, Seo-ah and Yu-na visited the cafeteria to ask permission to photograph the workers for their project.

The cafeteria manager agreed, provided the staff members were comfortable being photographed.

Seo-ah thanked her and approached an older woman who was arranging trays near the serving counter.

"Excuse me, ma'am. We're working on a university photography exhibition. Would you be comfortable being photographed while you work? You can say no, of course."

The woman looked surprised.

"Me?"

Seo-ah smiled.

"Yes, you."

"Why would anyone want to take a picture of me?"

"Because you work here, and this place wouldn't run without people like you."

The woman's expression softened.

Yu-na, standing behind Seo-ah, whispered, "You're going to make me cry before lunch."

"Please don't. I don't have tissues."

The woman laughed.

After a brief conversation, she agreed to participate.

Seo-ah took several photographs, showing her the results after each one.

When the woman saw the final image, she grew quiet.

"Is that really me?"

Seo-ah nodded.

"That's you."

The woman smiled at the photograph.

It wasn't a grand moment.

There were no dramatic speeches, no applause, and no music swelling in the background.

Just a woman seeing herself through someone else's eyes and liking what she saw.

Seo-ah carefully saved the image.

Across the cafeteria, someone watched them.

Lee Do-hyun approached a few minutes later, carrying two drinks.

"That was a beautiful photograph."

Seo-ah looked up.

"Thank you."

"I mean it. You didn't just take a picture of her. You made her feel seen."

For once, Seo-ah didn't have a sarcastic response ready.

She looked down at her camera.

"That's what I want the project to do."

"Then I hope you win."

He offered her one of the drinks.

She accepted it with a surprised smile.

"What's this for?"

"Encouragement."

"Is this how you encourage everyone?"

"Only people whose work I admire."

Yu-na suddenly became extremely interested in the ceiling.

Seo-ah noticed.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

Do-hyun laughed.

"Are you two always like this?"

"Unfortunately," Seo-ah replied.

"Fortunately," Yu-na corrected.

Do-hyun glanced at Seo-ah's camera.

"If you need help getting access to the older buildings near the east wing, I know someone in the photography club who might be able to help."

Seo-ah's eyes brightened.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Do-hyun, you might be my favourite person today."

Yu-na gasped.

"Already? I brought you breakfast!"

"You ate half of it."

"That was quality control!"

Do-hyun laughed again.

Seo-ah laughed with him.

And from the cafeteria entrance, Kang Min-jae saw all of it.

He had come to discuss the project's location schedule.

Instead, he found Seo-ah smiling at another man as if the world had never given her a reason not to.

He stood there longer than necessary.

Then he turned around.

He could ask her about the project later.

It wasn't as if he cared who she spent her time with.

He had more important things to think about.

Like the schedule.

And the exhibition.

And the fact that Lee Do-hyun had apparently forgotten how to stand a reasonable distance from other people's project partners.

That last thought was especially irritating.

Min-jae frowned.

He didn't like it.

He didn't know why.

And he refused to investigate the matter further.

---

THE PHOTOGRAPH HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE

That evening, Seo-ah sat in the photography studio reviewing the day's images.

She had taken more than two hundred photographs.

Most were ordinary.

A few were good.

Three were excellent.

And one made her stop scrolling.

It was a photograph of Min-jae.

She had taken it earlier that morning while testing the lighting near the studio windows.

He hadn't known she was pointing the camera in his direction.

In the photograph, he stood beside the window with his phone pressed to his ear, his expression cold and distant.

Sunlight touched one side of his face.

His expensive clothes looked immaculate.

But his eyes—

His eyes looked tired.

Not physically tired.

Something deeper.

Something she couldn't name.

Seo-ah stared at the photograph.

Then she shook her head.

"Nope."

She moved to delete it.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

The composition was beautiful. The lighting was perfect. And there was something honest about the image that she hadn't expected to capture.

She sighed.

"You're a terrible person to photograph, Kang Min-jae."

But she saved it.

For the project.

Obviously.

Not because she was curious about him.

And certainly not because she wanted to understand what had made his expression look like that.

She saved the image in a folder labelled PROJECT TEST SHOTS.