When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 3

Seok Kyung's eyes were blazing. "You're seriously choosing to believe him over her?" she demanded. "A man who has the power to silence anyone beneath him?"

The room tensed.

Woo Joon crossed his arms. "This is how you handle things? A doctor gets assaulted and your first reaction is to make her leave?"

Dr. Choi sighed. "We understand this is upsetting, but we can’t just—"

"No," Ha-ya cut in, her voice shaking with anger. "You don’t understand. If you did, you wouldn't be standing there defending a predator."

Other nurses and residents had started gathering in the hallway, murmurs spreading through the hospital like wildfire.

A senior doctor stepped forward. "Enough of this. We can't have chaos here."

"Chaos?" Seok Kyung scoffed. "You're worried about chaos when the real problem is that you refuse to hold Dr. Jang accountable?"

The tension was suffocating.

I felt the weight of their words, the way my friends stood in front of me, shielding me.

I couldn't take it anymore.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides as the weight of everything pressed down on me—the injustice, the betrayal, the suffocating hypocrisy of it all.

Then, without thinking, I ripped my ID badge from my coat and hurled it onto the floor.

The plastic card clattered against the tiles, the sound sharp in the heavy silence.

"Fine," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "It’s not like I planned to stick around forever."

Everyone stared, stunned.

I turned to Dr. Choi, my breath coming fast. "Do you think this hospital is everything to me? That I’d stay here no matter what just because I worked my whole life to get here?" I laughed bitterly. "I will leave. And when I do, it won’t be because of your pathetic ‘review.’ It’ll be because I choose to."

Ha-ya’s eyes widened. "Ye Na—"

I ignored her. My pulse pounded in my ears.

I turned to the rest of them—the doctors who watched, the nurses who hesitated, the ones who refused to look at me at all.

"You can all keep pretending this place is some temple of medicine," I spat. "But you and I both know what kind of people run it."

Dr. Choi’s face twisted. "That’s enough, Dr. Ye Na."

I didn't listen.

Then, without another word, I turned and walked away.

I walked out of the hospital.

Then I ran.

I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. My feet hit the pavement in frantic steps, my breath coming in uneven gasps. The cold air bit at my skin, but I barely felt it.

I just needed to go. Away from them. Away from the suffocating walls of the hospital, away from the people who pretended justice was just a word, away from the weight crushing my chest.

The city blurred around me—bright signs, honking cars, the chatter of people going about their lives as if the world hadn’t just caved in on me. I turned a corner, my vision hazy from tears, my legs aching from the relentless pace.

Then suddenly, everything was quiet.

I had wandered into a narrow alleyway, a space between two tall buildings where the light barely reached. My breath hitched as I staggered to the side, leaning against the cold brick wall. My fingers curled into my coat, gripping it tightly as if holding myself together.

And then, I broke.

A sob tore out of my throat, raw and painful.

I slid down to the ground, my arms wrapping around my knees, my body shaking violently.

Tears streamed down my face, hot against the chill of the night air.

Why?

Why did no one believe me?

Why did they act like it was easier to pretend nothing happened than to stand up for what was right?

Why did it feel like I had lost everything in just a few hours?

I bit my lip, trying to muffle my cries, but the pain was too much. The injustice. The humiliation. The betrayal. It all clawed at my chest, desperate to escape.

So I let it.

I cried.

Loud, broken sobs that echoed through the alley.

A group of people walked by, their voices breaking through the silence. They paused for a second when they heard me, glancing in my direction.

One of them hesitated as if debating whether to ask if I was okay.

But they didn’t.

They just kept walking.

Just like everyone else.

Just like the hospital.

Just like the world.

And I was left alone, curled up in the darkness, drowning in my own grief.