When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 20

The door creaked as I pushed it open.

Dim light shining from a few old bulbs hanging from the ceiling, casting long, dark shadows against the cracked concrete walls. The place smelled like sweat, metal, and something sharp—like adrenaline frozen in the air.

A boxing gym.

But not the kind with bright lights and motivational posters. No. This place was raw. Underground. The kind of place where people didn’t just fight for sport but because they had to.

I stepped further inside, my heartbeat oddly loud in the silence.

Where did he go?

I could’ve sworn Pi Han-Ul walked in here. But the room was empty. The air felt thick, charged with something I couldn’t name.

I hesitated, about to turn back—

Then, a sound.

A low, rhythmic thud.

I turned.

And there he was.

Pi Han-Ul.

Under the dim light, his movements were sharp, controlled. Every punch he threw landed with a force that echoed through the room. He wasn’t just practicing—he was punishing the bag, like it had personally wronged him. Sweat glistened along his jawline, his hoodie hanging loose off his shoulders.

I should’ve left.

I should’ve.

But I didn’t.

I stood there, frozen, watching.

Then—he stopped.

His back tensed. He turned slightly, like he felt me there.

My breath caught.

I pressed myself into the shadows, heart hammering.

Did he see me?

Seconds stretched.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his neck, then grabbed a water bottle from the bench. His fingers curled around it tightly, and he took a long drink, his Adam’s apple shifting.

I didn’t realize I was staring until—

“You can come out now.”

I flinched.

The water bottle hit the ground with a dull thud.

His eyes met mine.

Dark. Steady.

I stepped forward hesitantly, my throat dry. “I—”

He tilted his head slightly. “Why are you here?”

My mind scrambled for an excuse, but nothing made sense. “I… saw you.”

A small laugh left from his mouth. Then slowly stepped closer, his scent a mix of sweat and something deeper—like rain on asphalt.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, voice lower than before.

I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”

Me and my stupid curiousity.

His fingers brushed my wrist.

Not grabbing. Not holding.

Just there.

A silent warning.

Or maybe… something else.

His gaze flickered over my face, lingering for a second too long. I felt warmth crawl up my neck, my pulse stuttering.

For a moment, neither of us moved.