When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 44

After a grueling three-hour drive, Han Wool pulled the car to a stop in front of the police station. The building loomed ahead, its stark facade illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that spilled onto the pavement. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on both of us as we stepped out of the vehicle.​

Inside, the atmosphere was sterile and unwelcoming. A uniformed officer sat behind a desk, glancing up as we approached. His eyes flicked between us, assessing.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone neutral.​

Han Wool cleared his throat. "We're here to see someone. Tae Sung."​

The officer's brows lifted slightly, but he nodded. "Relation?"​

"Former acquaintances," I interjected, my voice steadier than I felt.​

He studied us for a moment longer before gesturing toward a hallway. "Wait here. I'll check if he's allowed visitors."

As the officer disappeared down the corridor, I turned to Han Wool, offering a reassuring nod. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."​

His jaw tightened, reluctance evident in his eyes. "Ye Na..."​

"I need to do this," I insisted gently. "For closure."​

Before he could protest further, the officer returned and motioned for me to follow. With a final glance at Han Wool, I squared my shoulders and walked down the dimly lit hallway.

The visitation room was small and cold, separated by a thick glass partition with a telephone on each side. I sat down, my fingers gripping the receiver tightly as I waited.​

Moments later, Tae Sung was led in. He looked different—disheveled, shadows under his eyes—but the smirk he offered was all too familiar. He picked up the phone on his side, and our eyes locked.​

"Ye Na," he drawled, as if we were old friends meeting for coffee.

I took a deep breath, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I was a fool to believe in you," I began, my voice trembling with frustration. "I should have doubted you from the start. Is this your way of avenging your father? Using me as a pawn in your twisted game?"​

He chuckled softly, the sound sending chills down my spine. "You really don't know me, do you?"​

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t let his words touch me. I kept my eyes on him, even when every part of me wanted to look away.
"No, I don’t," I said quietly. "And honestly? I’m glad I never did."

He sighed. "When we were kids, I was in your class. You probably don't remember, but one day, I was crying over a skinned knee. You gave me a strawberry juice box. I loved you since that day," he continued, his voice taking on a wistful tone. "I started following you, hoping to be your friend. But you never noticed."

He leaned back in the chair across the glass, tilting his head as if amused.

"You always looked so sharp. So decisive. But you never really saw people, did you? Not the ones like me."

I held the receiver tighter. "People like you?" I repeated, voice steady. "Manipulators? Liars? You kidnapped my cousin. You put Ha Ya in danger. You watched as my life fell apart—and all this time, what? You thought it was romantic?"

His smile faltered for a second. A flicker. But it returned just as fast, tighter now.
"I didn’t want it to be like that."

"No," I cut in. "You wanted me desperate. You wanted me to run to you when the world burned around me." I shook my head slowly. "You don’t love me. You just wanted to be needed."