When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 18

“I wonder why.”

“Relax,” Tae Sung said, his tone teasing now. “I come in peace.”

Han Wool didn’t look convinced.

Tae Sung exhaled, shaking his head. “Anyway, I won’t hold you both up. Ye Na, take care, okay?”

I nodded. “You too.”

Han Wool didn’t move. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. He wasn’t over it. Not even close.

I could see it—the way his shoulders tensed as Tae Sung turned back to his car, the way his lips parted like he had something else to say. Something sharp. Something unnecessary.

I stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on his wrist. “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “Nothing happened.”

Han Wool’s gaze flickered to me.

I held his stare, firm. “Let’s go.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a sharp breath and turned on his heels, walking back to the car.

I followed.

The moment I buckled my seatbelt, he muttered, “Maybe I should crash into his Rolls-Royce next time.”

I blinked. “What?”

His grip on the steering wheel was a little too tight. “Just wondering if that would be fair.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” I said, exasperated. “He apologized. Twice.”

Han Wool scoffed, eyes still on the road. “And that makes everything fine?”

“Yes?”

He turned to me, incredulous. “Whose side are you on?”

Wait, maybe I should try lying.

I smiled sweetly. “His.”

His mouth opened, ready to snap something back—but then, he stopped.

Just like that.

Like whatever he was about to say had hit an invisible wall in his throat.

I smirked. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Silence.

Then—

Casually. Lightly. As if it was just a passing thought—

“So… how do you know him?”

I turned my head slowly. “What?”

He kept his gaze stubbornly on the road. “That guy. Tae Sung. How do you know him?”

I blinked at him, confused. “Why?”

Han Wool scoffed. “It’s just a question.”

I studied his face. His expression was unreadable, his posture relaxed—but something about the way he gripped the steering wheel just a little too tightly made me pause.

Still, I shrugged. ”Tae Sung is just… a friend.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the wheel.

Silence settled between us again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was just there.

Lingering.