When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 43

The alley was quiet, untouched by the noise of the school. Shadows stretched long against the walls, the only movement coming from the soft sway of overgrown vines curling around the rusted metal fence. A place forgotten—just like he preferred it. 

Han-Wool sat on the cold concrete, back against the wall, his legs stretched loosely in front of him. The usual sharpness in his gaze had softened, dulled by something distant. 

Between his fingers, he held a photograph. The edges were worn, the paper slightly bent, as if it had been taken out and put back countless times. Two children stood frozen in time—captured in grainy film. A boy and a girl. 

Beneath them, two numbers were written in fading ink. 

5 and 6

A slow, almost absentminded smile ghosted his lips as he stared at the picture. 

Ye-Na. 

His fingers brushed over the image, tracing the familiar features. She was younger here, but still the same. Soft eyes. Quiet smile. The kind of presence that could make the loudest chaos settle into silence. 

He had admired her for so long. Longer than she would ever know. 

And yet— 

The first time he saw her at school, standing there as if she had simply walked out of his memories and into reality—he had felt shock.  

Not because he hadn’t expected to see her. 

Because he had been waiting.

But not like this. 

Not in a place like this. Not in a situation like this. 

He had pictured it a thousand times, imagined every possible scenario where they would cross paths again. But he had never expected to see her here, in this school, blending into the background like just another nameless face. 

He had watched her. 

From the moment she stepped onto the campus, his eyes had followed. 

At first, it was instinct. A force beyond himself. 

Then, it was something else entirely. 

The way she carried herself, the way she moved—he had searched for signs of change. Hoped for them. 

But when they came for her—when the whispers turned into taunts, when hands grabbed at her, when laughter curled around her like a noose— 

She didn’t fight. 

She didn’t do anything. 

She just stood there. 

And he felt it—disappointment curling in his chest, sinking deep into his ribs like a dull ache. 

Because it was the same. Just like back then. 

Ye-Na, standing alone, taking the hurt, swallowing it whole. 

Even though she wasn’t weak. 

Even though she wasn’t powerless. 

His fingers curled around the photo, gripping it tighter. 

She could have changed. 

She should have changed. 

But she hadn’t. 

And he hated that it still affected him this much. 

He had always been watching her. 

Since they were kids. Since the first time he saw her sitting in the park, small and quiet, her gaze locked onto the sky as if searching for something beyond it.