When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 41

I wasn’t sure if I forgave him.

I wasn’t sure if I ever could.

But I did know one thing.

I didn’t want to carry this alone anymore.

So I sat down beside him.

And for a moment, we just listened to the wind.

Han Wool let out a breath beside us, then pushed up from where he’d been leaning on a tree. “I’ll be out,” he said, his voice carrying a small smile. “You guys carry on. Try not to stab each other.”

He gave a small nod—more to me than to Geon Yeop—and walked back to the car, leaving the two of us in the quiet shade beneath the tree.

Geon Yeop watched him go, then turned back to me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I know you don’t forgive me for what I did… for what I thought I did. That I killed… your—”

“Don’t,” I cut in, my voice firmer than I expected. “Just… don’t blame yourself like that.”

His brow furrowed, like he hadn’t expected me to stop him.

“I’m sorry too,” I said quietly. “For misunderstanding. For hating you when maybe you didn’t deserve it.”

He exhaled. It wasn’t relief—it was something else. Something heavier. Like he’d been holding his breath for years and still wasn’t sure it was safe to let it out.

We sat in silence for a while. The tree above us swayed gently, letting the sunlight peek through in patches.

“But I’m still mad at you,” I added, finally.

He laughed—softly. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Not because of that night,” I said.

“But because you never found me. Not even after you remembered. Not even after you knew.”

His smile faded.

“You could’ve found me,” I continued, more quietly now. “You could’ve told me the truth. That you were drugged. Controlled. I would’ve listened. I could’ve understood you.”

“I didn’t know how to look you in the eye,” he said. “Every time I imagined it, I saw your blood. I saw your face—scared of me. I couldn’t take that.”

“But you let me think I hated you,” I said.

“I let you stay safe,” he murmured. “I thought maybe that was enough.”

We both looked down at our hands.

His fingers were curled into his palms, like he still didn’t trust them. Mine were trembling in the sunlight.

There was a pause, almost long enough to slip back into silence. But then his voice came, low and measured—like he’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his mind.

“Ye Na,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

I glanced at him, wary. But I nodded.

“Back in high school,” he said, slowly, “you and Han Wool… there was something between you, right?”

My chest tightened. I didn’t answer.

He nodded anyway, as if that was all the answer he needed. “I saw it. Even when no one else did. The way he looked at you. Like you were the sun. And the way you looked at him—like you were scared the sun would disappear.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“I should’ve asked you then more directly,” he said. “But I had too much going on. Too much darkness in my head.”