When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 36

Han Wool turned to me, voice low. “You sure you want to go?”

I gave a soft smile. “I’ve got it.”

He nodded, but his fingers still played with mine. “I can wait. Sit in the parking lot like some worried boyfriend.”

I looked at him. “You are my boyfriend.”

His grin stretched wide. “I like hearing that.”

“I like saying it.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Still beautiful, though.”

My cheeks warmed, but I rolled my eyes. “Flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“Waiting for me evening.”

His eyes lit up, smile playful. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I reached for the door, but he caught my wrist gently, pulling me back just enough for his lips to brush my forehead. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just quiet and grounding. Like he was memorizing me again.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “You?”

“I’m already missing you.”

A soft laugh escaped me, and I rested my forehead against his for a second. “Text me when you get home.”

“I’ll send you a photo of my lunch like a good man.”

I smirked. “And no junk food.”

“No promises.”

We stayed there for one more breath, one more beat of stillness in a world that never seemed to stop spinning. Then I opened the door, stepping out into the hum of reality. He waited until I was inside the glass doors before driving off, his taillights fading into the morning light.

And even though I walked into a building filled with chaos and codes and lives dangling by threads, I felt—just for a moment—like something in me was steady.

Because he had kissed my hand like a promise.

And I believed him.

The hospital air hit me like routine—antiseptic, sterile, cold. The world here was fluorescent and fast-moving, a rhythm I’d memorized. But this morning, it felt heavier somehow. Like I was walking into something I couldn’t name yet.

I passed the main hallway, nodding at a nurse I half-recognized, and turned toward the stairwell. I always avoided the elevator in the morning—it gave me too much time to think.

But I didn’t make it past the second landing.

“Tae Sung?”

He was sitting on the step, hunched forward, both elbows on his knees. He wasn’t in scrubs, not even the usual dress pants he wore on rounds. Just jeans and a gray hoodie, hair uncombed, and a crease of tension that didn’t belong on his face.

“Tae Sung,” I repeated, walking over, “what’s wrong?”

He looked up slowly. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red.

“She collapsed this morning.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “So Min.”

My chest tightened. “Your sister?”

He nodded. “Her immune system crashed overnight. They rushed her to ICU at dawn.”

I didn’t ask if she was stable. I knew what that look meant.