When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 8

I shot a glance.

Harin frowns. “What?”

Han Wool tilts his head, glancing at me like I should back him up.

I glare at him. Murderously.

“Right, Ye Na?”

Han Wool is grinning.

Harin is blinking at me, waiting for an answer.

I school my face into complete indifference. “Right. Deep discussion.”

Han Wool raises an eyebrow. “About which one was the best, remember?”

I meet his gaze with pure venom. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

Harin looks back and forth between us. "Oh...y-yea?? which one was the best?”

I open my mouth, no idea what I’m going to say, but Han Wool beats me to it.

“Obviously, the one with the talking sponge.”

Harin looks confused. “Sponge?”

Han Wool nods, completely serious. “Yeah. You know. The one who lives in a pineapple.”

Harin’s face twists in horror. “You watch SpongeBob?”

He grins. “Religiously.”

Harin settles into Han Wool’s side, her fingers curling around his arm like she’s staking a claim. I don’t know why she thinks she has to—there’s no competition here—but the way she subtly watches me from the corner of her eye?

Yeah. She’s definitely jealous.

And I kind of love it.

I take another slow sip of my coffee, watching as she inches even closer to him. Han Wool looks noticeably stiff, like he’s not used to this level of affection, or maybe like he’d rather not be dealing with it.

Interesting.

“So,” Harin says, her voice light, too light, “how long have you two been hanging out?”

I almost choke on my coffee.

Han Wool grins like this is his favorite thing. “Oh, Ye Na and I? We’ve been spending so much time together.”

Harin’s grip tightens on his arm.

I narrow my eyes at him, but his grin only widens.

“Oh really?” Harin’s voice is sweet, but her nails dig into his sleeve like she wants to tear me out of existence.

Han Wool shrugs, all casual. “Yeah. She’s kind of everywhere these days. Always popping up when I least expect it.”

I clench my jaw. He’s playing a dangerous game.

Harin hums. “Is that so?”

I set my cup down louder than necessary. “Not my fault your fiancé gets in my way.”

Harin’s smile twitches. “He gets in your way?”

Han Wool gasps, fake-offended. “She makes it sound like I’m following her.”

I grit my teeth. “If the shoe fits.”

Harin glares at me. I glare back.

Han Wool just sits there, watching, entertained.

Unbelievable.

Harin huffs, turning back to him, her fingers brushing against his chest. “Ignore her. Let’s go upstairs".

I don’t know why my stomach twists at that. I hate her words.

But before they can take a step, Harin’s mother enters the room, her presence demanding attention. She’s dressed in an elegant silk blouse, her hair neatly styled, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on Han Wool. Right behind her, Harin’s father follows, exuding an air of quiet authority.

“Oh, Han Wool,” Harin’s mother smiles warmly, “you’re already here? Come, come, have breakfast with us.”

Harin visibly stiffens, her plans to drag him upstairs instantly ruined. But she plasters on a sweet smile and nods. “Of course! Let’s eat together.”

Han Wool glances at me before shrugging. “Sure, why not.”

As we move toward the dining table, Aunt Joo Won arrives, beaming. “Oh, Han Wool! You must be hungry. Come, sit, sit.”

The long dining table is already set with an elaborate spread—steaming bowls of rice, side dishes arranged perfectly, fresh fruit and warm soup filling the air with a comforting aroma.

Harin moves quickly, dragging a chair out for Han Wool right beside her, claiming the seat like it’s a throne meant for them both.

But just as she’s about to settle in beside him, her mother unknowingly takes the chair.

“Oh,” Harin says, eyes flashing for just a second. “Mom, it’s—”

But before she can say more, Han Wool smiles easily. “It’s okay, I can sit somewhere else.”

There’s an empty seat near Harin’s father at the far end of the table. The most logical choice.

But instead of taking it, he walks past it, straight to the empty chair near me.

I swallow.

Harin deflates instantly.

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor as he pulls it out echoes loudly in the suddenly quiet room.

Harin stares. “You—”

Han Wool grins, completely unfazed. “This is fine, right?”

Aunt Joo Won, ever the gracious host, claps her hands together. “Of course, of course! Let’s all eat.”

I glance at Han Wool from the corner of my eye. He’s already reaching for the side dishes, completely unbothered, as if he didn’t just shatter Harin’s entire plan.

Harin sits down, but her fingers curl into her lap, her smile strained.

And for the first time this morning, I enjoy my meal.