When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 50

The wind whispers secrets through the school’s empty corridors, slipping past the rusting edges of open windows, rattling the old, half-broken blinds. The sky is a soft, pale blue, stretched thin across the horizon, and sunlight spills lazily over the rooftop floor, warming the cold cement. It’s quiet up here—no hurried footsteps, no murmured gossip, no teachers calling out names. Just the wind. Just the sky. 

And Han Wool. 

He stands near the rooftop railing, leaning slightly forward, both hands wrapped around his phone. His grip is firm, careful, like the device holds something he needs to see, something he can’t miss. His brows are drawn together, lashes casting shadows over his sharp gaze, completely focused. 

His thumbs hover over the screen, hesitant, watching. 

The video plays, a slow-motion demonstration of a brush dipping into a small bottle, emerging with a glossy coat of color. The liquid spreads over a smooth, manicured fingernail, perfectly even, perfectly seamless. 

Han Wool doesn’t blink. 

The next clip shows a mistake—a small smudge at the edge of the nail. The video rewinds, corrects itself, shows the right way to do it. Slow, steady strokes. 

Han Wool exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. 

He watches. Learns. Absorbs. 

And behind him— 

A silent presence creeps closer. 

Minhwan moves like a shadow, like a breeze slipping through unnoticed. There’s no urgency in his steps, no deliberate stealth, just his natural way of being—light on his feet, effortless. He peeks over Han Wool’s shoulder, dark eyes scanning the phone screen. 

And then— 

A low chuckle. 

Han Wool startles. 

His phone nearly slips from his grasp, fingers clenching instinctively as he turns his head sharply. Minhwan stands there, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly with that ever-present lazy grin curling his lips. 

Han Wool stares. 

Minhwan stares back. 

Then— 

“What,” Minhwan drawls, “the hell are you watching?” 

Han Wool blinks. 

Minhwan nods toward the screen. “Are you seriously watching nail polish tutorials?” 

A pause. 

Then, in the flattest voice possible, Han Wool says, “No.” 

Minhwan lets out a low laugh, stepping closer, leaning slightly against the railing. “Oh yeah? Then what’s that?” He gestures vaguely at the screen. “Looks a lot like ‘how to paint your nails without making a mess’ to me.” 

Han Wool exhales sharply, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. “It’s not what you think.” 

Minhwan hums, unconvinced. “Mmm. So what is it, then?” 

Han Wool’s fingers twitch. “It’s for my sister.” 

A beat of silence. 

Then Minhwan’s grin widens. “Ohhh.” He nods, dragging out the sound like he’s so enlightened. “For your sister. Right. Of course.” 

Han Wool gives him a look. 

Minhwan shrugs, still grinning. “I mean, hey, I get it. If you ever wanna start painting your own nails, no judgment, man. Maybe a nice pastel blue would suit you.”