When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 34

Neither of us said anything at first.

But something in my chest tightened. Maybe it was the way he kept glancing at me, like he wanted to say everything but didn’t know where to start. Maybe it was because I knew—whatever this destination was—it wasn’t random.

Someone was waiting for me.

And I wasn’t sure if I was ready.

The car rolled forward in silence, the tires humming against the asphalt. The city lights blurred past us—neon signs, glowing windows, the occasional late-night bus stop lit like an empty stage. I sat quietly, hands clasped in my lap, stealing glances at Han Wool as he drove.

He looked more grounded than usual, but still… his jaw was tight. Like he was holding something back.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Let’s go somewhere."

I blinked. “What?”

He glanced at me, eyes serious. “I mean it. You and me. Let’s go somewhere far. Just for a while.”

I stared at him, thrown. “Han Wool…”

“This has gone too far, Ye Na.” His voice was low but firm. “My father’s going to try to get control of the situation soon. Take me somewhere, make decisions for me like I’m a puppet. I can already feel it.”

I stayed silent.

“And you… you are too broken. You need air”.

I looked away, pressing my lips together.

“So let’s leave,” he said, softer now. “Not forever. Just until everything stops spinning. Until it all calms down.”

“But…” I shook my head slightly. “My job. I’ve worked so hard for this. And my friends. I can’t just—”

“I’m not asking you to disappear,” he said. “We’ll come back. You’ll return to your job, your life. I’ll face what I have to. But not like this. Not when everything feels like it's falling apart.”

I hesitated, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of my coat. He reached over, his hand brushing mine.

“I just want a few days. A week, maybe. Just enough time to breathe with you. To be by you side".

“And what would we even do?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Where would we go?”

He smiled faintly. “Anywhere. Busan. Jeju. I don’t care. Somewhere with a sea, maybe. I think you need the ocean more than you know.”

I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t the kind of person who ran. But everything felt so heavy lately. Maybe a part of me—buried deep and quiet—wanted to run too.

He turned to me as the car slowed at a red light. “Just think about it. Don’t say yes now. Just… think.”

I nodded slowly.

Not because I agreed.

But because for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like the walls were closing in.

And somehow, just for a moment, I could breathe.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t the suffocating kind. It was quiet in a way that allowed thoughts to settle. Outside the window, the city began to thin—fewer cars, more trees, the occasional storefront with its lights dimmed. Han Wool tapped the steering wheel lightly in rhythm with the music playing low from the radio.

Then he turned into a narrow street flanked by tall hedges and rolled the car to a gentle stop in front of a small guest house tucked between rows of pine trees.

The headlights lit up a wooden sign hanging loosely by a nail: Sea Garden Guesthouse. A porch light glowed warm above the door, casting soft amber light across the gravel path. A few wind chimes tinkled gently in the breeze.

He shifted into park and glanced at me.

“We’re here.”

Isn't this his friend's guest house?

I opened the door slowly and followed him up the creaky wooden steps. The air smelled of pine and sea salt, and the wind carried the faint roar of waves crashing somewhere close.

We stepped inside.

He turned on the lights—soft yellow bulbs flickered on.

Then—footsteps creaked above.

Before either of us could speak, a voice drifted from the top of the stairs. Low, playful, and completely unfazed.

“Never thought I’d see you alive.”