Being A Full-Time Employee C3

Chapter 3

“How was it for you?”
Seunggyu asked while mixing rice into his soup. Even as he mashed the rice together, he shoveled it into his mouth at an incredible pace. He used to be the last one to eat in the cafeteria, but his tight, minute-by-minute survival schedule had turned him into this. I set down my spoon on my spotless tray, without a single grain of rice left, and proudly pushed forward my chest.

<Pass Card> Beneath the pass card was written the number of the hunter I was in charge of: 170009. They said they used numbers instead of names for security purposes, but thinking of the young cash cow I had been assigned, I doubted whether it was effective at all. That kid’s face was bound to stand out wherever he went.

“Oh, impressive.”
As if he had expected I’d naturally get assigned to someone, Seunggyu let out a perfunctory sound of admiration and buried his face back into his tray. Hyungmin, on the other hand, stared at me with envy. For us external contractors, the hunter’s selection was practically the final interview. I had passed, while Hyungmin had not.

“How was he? They said he was young.”
“He’s young.”

I had no desire to say much else.
After all, I knew nothing about him except his looks.

“He’s pretty.”
“Isn’t he a guy?”
“Yeah. A pretty guy.”

That was the most accurate description. Even when he slowly opened his eyelids as if half-asleep, he looked beautiful. What I had thought of as a flaw—the dried blood caked on his face—actually looked almost like part of a deliberate concept once I saw the face fully revealed. His skin was so pale it looked nearly bloodless, his eyebrows were striking, and his eyelashes were long, emitting a subtle magnetism.

I’d never once fallen behind anyone in looks, but his face—so beautiful in a different kind of way—was enough to dent my pride.

“Better get along with him.”
“What do you mean, get along? We’ll split soon enough anyway. It’s just a one-year contract. That’s your specialty, isn’t it? One year, exactly, no matter who it is.”
“Well, yeah…”

Just when it seemed like Seunggyu had more to say, he burped and suddenly got to his feet. His tray was already empty.
“Hey, I gotta go. Catch you later.”

He often left mid-conversation without common sense or etiquette. I only gave him a little wave. Hyungmin, however, was crestfallen.

“Um, but what about me? I was the only one who didn’t get the necklace of acceptance!”

The kid seemed to think this was one of those hip-hop survival shows that used to be popular before dungeon breaks.

Unsurprisingly, Hyungmin looked anxious—employment instability will do that. But this world was cold and merciless, and Seunggyu had a firm personal rule that for those left without employment, he would only cover the equivalent of a taxi’s base fare.
“Charge him 4,500 won.”

Even after the world had turned upside down, inflation crept forward bit by bit. Taxi fares were no exception.

At this point, I could recite the non-disclosure clause and employment contract with my eyes closed. Signing was quick in this case—electronic signature only, on the provided tablet, no in-person formalities.

The first day was always my favorite. All you did was finish contract-related paperwork, and then the schedule for the day was over. I lay down in the assigned lodging, burying my face in the scent of clean bedding. Breathing deeply, in and out, I inevitably thought of my hunter partner.

“Nice to meet you?”
I remembered how he had awkwardly just stared at my outstretched hand, staying silent for a long while, until finally he let out a loud “Ah” as if something had burst inside him.

“I… I can’t be touched right now. My guiding levels are at the edge.”

“Wonu! Here’s the pill.”

Before he finished speaking, one of the researchers hurried over and handed him a tablet. The pill looked absurdly small and cute—almost so colorful and dainty it reminded me of LSD. Hunter Chae Wonu took it without even water, then immediately opened his mouth wide in front of me.

“…?”
“To show that I ate it all.”
“Oh, I see.”

I scratched my head, nodded, and clapped lightly for him.
“Well done.”

Still nodding, Chae Wonu walked away toward something that looked like a dentist’s chair. Lying down with practiced ease, he immediately stripped off his shirt. His actions were so unpredictable that I felt like Hyungmin, dumbly frozen as if it were my first day here as well.

“Start.”

With a drowsy, languid voice, Wonu spoke. At his word, various devices were attached all over his body, and soon monitors filled with sharply oscillating graphs. The researchers began whispering among themselves in concern.

Even as he yawned in front of what were obviously abnormal readings, Wonu looked down at me through half-lidded eyes. Though reclined, he gave me the impression of being looked down on.

“Go tell them that Hunter Chae will do it.”
“Do what?”
“You’re the Guide, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead. Do it.”

Suddenly, this sterile, immaculate place erupted in a small commotion. The same researcher who had given him the pill cried out in a voice choked with emotion:
“Wonu!”

“I’m going to sleep now.”

But oblivious to the fuss around him, Chae Wonu calmly fastened the straps onto his own wrists and closed his eyes. That was it. That was how it happened.

And I was hired.

“He’s one really strange bastard.”

I muttered after finishing the recollection.

“What is?”

The sudden voice startled me. I wasn’t someone who usually reacted openly to shocks—when I was surprised, my heart would pound but my face showed nothing. This time, though, I quickly raised my torso to look at the source.

Standing there was none other than the very subject of my behind-his-back grumbling.

“Me? The strange bastard?”
“…What are you doing here?”
“This is my room.”
“Ah… This is Room 608, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s my room. There must be some mistake…”
“No. It’s my room too. We’re sharing it.”

Wait—was the Bureau running out of budget? No way. With dungeons spewing rare items and materials like rain into Korea, there was no chance the country was short on funds.

Chae Wonu pointed first at his chest and then at me.
“We’re sharing. Us.”
“Uh… why?”
“Because I said I wanted to.”
“Uh… why?”
“You’re my partner. Isn’t that what partners do?”

For a moment, I wondered if I’d skimmed the contract too quickly. Had I signed up not as a guiding partner but as a different kind of partner entirely? But I was seven years older than Wonu, and after so many near-catastrophes in the early days of this job, I had learned never to sink myself into irreversible situations. I smiled gently.

“Normally, hunters and guides have separate rooms. We only work together during missions, and usually eat separately too.”
“But my senior sleeps with his Guide.”
“Ah, then your compatibility rate must be really low…”

Since guiding stabilized hunters’ out-of-control powers through physical contact, if matching rates were too low, sometimes measures as drastic as that were taken. It could happen… but wait, was he implying he wanted that with me?

“You mean you asked for a shared room just because you want to sleep with me?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you seemed interesting.”
“Me? I’m not that funny a guy. Hunter Chae, good-looking people normally don’t get humor on top of it all.”
“Really? I found you funny.”
“…Wow.”

This conversation didn’t make sense. I’d met countless hunters, but none like this.

Wonu seemed utterly indifferent to my bewilderment. Why he wanted to be roommates, I couldn’t understand. Usually, the Hunter Bureau asked the consent of both parties. This kind of forced arrangement was unheard of. Where would I even lodge my complaint in such a case? And would anyone take it seriously?

As though reading my thoughts, Wonu glanced away from his wristwatch.
“Even if you ask them to change it, they won’t. I specifically said it has to be with you.”
“Hey.”
“I’ve got an exam left, so I need to step out.”
“Hey.”
“And that blanket—you were using mine. I’ve done all sorts of things with it already.”

For the first time in my life, the man Yang Baekgyeom—who had never once lost his pride or been cowed into silence—was speechless. From the very moment I had been sniffling in the bedding, he must have been watching me. This brat.

“Just kidding.”

He tossed that out casually, with a tone that did not sound like a joke at all, and left just as abruptly as he had entered.

I only came to my senses after I heard the click of the front door lock. I leapt up from the bed, tore off the blankets and sheets, and began searching for a washing machine.

The second morning.

Hyungmin’s expression and mine were the exact opposite of yesterday’s.

“Turns out he’s not such a bad guy. He was just sensitive because he’d only just returned from the field! Once he saw the matching rate, he was satisfied and immediately agreed to pair up. You know how at first the guiding balance hurts, right? Well, for me, it didn’t hurt at all! I didn’t even get dizzy or throw up! Oh, I also heard something—hyung, weren’t you the one who once vomited while…”

“Hyungmin.”
“Yes?”
“Could you please be quiet?”

I pressed at my throbbing temple while I begged. But Hyungmin, as usual, had no awareness.

“Why? Are you sick? Did you guide yesterday? I thought they decide based on the matching rate, so I finished mine in the morning. But I didn’t see you there. Did you already go? Was it a bad match?”

I didn’t answer. I simply held my tray and got up.

“Huh? You’re done eating already?”
“No. I’m escaping from a murderer.”
“A— a murderer?”
“Yeah. A Question Mark Murderer.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s you, Hyungmin.”

While Hyungmin stood blinking in confusion, completely failing to get it, I walked off toward a quiet corner.

¹ Footnote: In Korea, hunter “compatibility” (matching rates) with guides determines how effective the guiding is. If rates are low, more extreme or prolonged physical measures may be needed to stabilize them. This is why Wonu’s comment about guides sleeping with hunters had suggestive implications.