When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 10

The moment I step out of the operating room, exhaustion slams into me like a freight train.b

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours of standing, monitoring vitals, calculating dosages, ensuring the patient's body didn't shut down under the surgeon's hands.

My feet ache, my head is pounding, and all I want-all I want-is to collapse somewhere quiet.

But as soon as I start down the hallway, voices drift toward me.

Dr. Yeri spots me first. "Ye Na." She steps forward, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "How does it feel?"

I blink, my brain still sluggish from the surgery. "How does what feel?"

Her smile widens. "To know he's gone."

And just like that, the exhaustion fades.

Oh yea- about that.

Now he's locked up.

Now he's stripped of his medical license.

Now he's nothing.

Because justice was served.

Because someone else-someone brave-had been through the same hell I had.

And she planned ahead.

A hidden camera pen.

Footage of his disgusting actions.

Hard evidence that no one could ignore.

And because of that, because of her, we weren't dismissed. We were heard.

I exhale, something inside me unraveling.

Lighter.

Freer.

"It feels," I say slowly, meeting Dr. Yeri's gaze, "like I can finally breathe again."

A few nod.

Dr. Yeri claps a hand on my shoulder. "You did good, Ye Na."

I huff out a small laugh. "You mean she did good," I correct, thinking of the woman who risked everything to set that trap.

She nods, expression serious. "That too. But you fought, Ye Na. You didn't let it break you."

I swallow, throat tight.

Because for a while-it almost did.

"Anyway," Dr. Yeri says, stepping back, "get some rest. You just finished a major surgery, and we both know you're running on fumes."

I sigh. "Don't have to tell me twice."

With that, I turn toward my office.

Well. Not exactly mine.

Anesthesiology residents don't get personal offices, but we do have a shared lounge, a quiet space to review cases, do paperwork, or just exist when the hospital becomes too much.

When I push open the door, the familiar scent of sterilized air and coffee greets me.

Empty.

Thank God.

I drop into a chair, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake the heaviness clinging to my body.

I should go home.

I should sleep.

But instead, I lean back, staring at the ceiling.

It's over.

The nightmare.

The fear.

The helplessness.

I decided to take a nap.