When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

Chapter 55

Cheonga's POV

The sound of the gunshot still rings in my ears.

A second passes.

Then another.

I should be in pain. I should be bleeding.

But-

I feel nothing.

Slowly, I open my eyes.

The world feels blurred, unfocused. A figure stands before me, the scent of something faintly metallic lingering in the air.

The person slowly pulls back, stepping just enough for their face to come into view.

My breath catches.

At first, my mind refuses to process what I'm seeing. The image in front of me doesn't make sense.

Tired eyes. Familiar eyes.

Faded scars. A face worn from time, from fights, from something deeper.

Grey strands mixed into dark, unkempt hair.

My vision locks onto him, my body unmoving, my thoughts tangled in confusion.

No. No.

This isn't possible.

It can't be possible.

I saw him die.

I remember the explosion. I remember the flames swallowing everything. I remember crying, screaming, waiting for someone to tell me it wasn't real.

But now-

Now, he's standing here. Alive.

The second the realization crashes into me, my breath stutters. My chest tightens, a tremble overtaking my body.

Dad...

My lips part, but no words come out.

I can't speak.

My hands clench at my sides, but I feel nothing.

Everything around me blurs into silence. Only he remains in focus.

And then-

His voice.

Soft. Familiar. Heavy with something unspoken.

"Are you okay, Ye Na?"

The name.

A broken sob pushes through me, my vision swimming. Tears spill before I can stop them, slipping down my cheeks in waves. My throat closes. My breath shudders.

I can't move.

I can't breathe.

I want to say something. Anything.

But my mouth won't work.

He watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then-he pulls away, as if the moment never happened.

There is no sign of pain on his face.

As he steps back, the others freeze.

Their faces shift. Confusion. Shock.

I force myself to blink past the haze, my gaze dropping lower-

And that's when I see it.

The bloodstain.

Dark. Stark against the fabric of his clothes.

But-

No wound.