Being A Full-Time Employee C17

Chapter 17

I pressed down on the ketchup bottle so firmly in my refusal that too much squirted out in a mess. Awkward, embarrassed, I quickly scraped away the excess with an unused spoon. This time, Wonu grabbed the bottle and squirted ketchup onto my cutlet, offering his own warped theory.

“What you mean is, if you don’t drink in front of me, you’ll still drink somewhere else. I don’t like that.”

A theory… though hardly logical.

“I’ll drink alone, then. Problem solved, right?”

I shut it down before the quarrel could drag out. It wasn’t as though I had anyone else to drink warmly with—my so-called friend was too busy networking across foreign Hunter Unions.

“Just drink in front of me. I won’t take a drop. Problem solved.”
“But that feels guilty. Why would you sit through a boring table?”
“Because hyung’s face alone is fun to look at.”
“…My face isn’t that much of a comedy.”
“Isn’t this when you say things like that?”
“Not sure. People use it in all sorts of ways. But it doesn’t feel good, coming from you.”

Why indeed. Probably because a compliment about my looks from him never feels like a compliment.

No, the face “fun just to look at” was far more his than mine. Which was why, if he said it to me, it only made me self-conscious.

I cleared my throat, then nudged him lightly with my elbow.
“Let’s just eat. We could get called at any time.”
“Yes.”
“….”

And there, sitting on my cutlets, was a four-leaf clover sketched perfectly in ketchup. Pointless detail. Pointlessly pretty.

“…You know if there’s no call, today’s training day, right?”

I scraped off a leaf, turning it into three, checked the time. We’d started late; I was already pressed. Shooting drills today—I needed to eat quick, digest, and not arrive bloated; the instructor hated that.

“What training do you have today, Hunter Chae?”

Asking at all felt hypocritical after insisting on boundaries. But making this worse with prickliness would be worse.

Maybe I really had been too harsh with him. Yes, he stepped out of bounds constantly—but away from that, he wasn’t a bad kid.

“I’m heading for a check-up.”

So, an unscheduled inspection. I nearly asked what kind, but bit my tongue. Too nosy.

“Then… good luck.”
“Yesh~”
“Don’t talk like that. I’m not giving you special side dishes here.”
“But don’t I sound cute~?”
“No, just wrong. Funny, maybe.”
“If it’s funny, laugh.”

I snorted despite myself. Shaking my head, I set down the spoon, turned toward him with a smug grin, chin tilted up.
“There. Happy?”

Embarassed, I dropped the expression quickly. But he clapped and laughed.
“Hyung, you’re so cute.”

The way he laughed—brighter, prettier—was cuter still. The words rose ready in my throat: “Cute? Look in a mirror…” but I swallowed them back. Clean at heart, whether in a good sense or bad.

I liked shooting. Plugging my ears, holding breath, sight narrowed to target—until all the world fell away, leaving just me and that distant white circle.

“You’re a bit too tense,” the shooting instructor once said. He was keen-eyed, saw more than targets. He was right—I was strung taut. Always had been.

But tell me—who here isn’t? Espers, guides, hunters… sensory fields stretched too wide. Always taut, never relaxed.

Every month, I rewrote my will. Every mission, I got hazard pay. If lucky, I matched decently with someone. If unlucky, I had to handle unwelcome hands and touches.

Given that, no wonder shooting appealed. Funnel everything into sights and trigger, shrink the world small.

“Still sharp.”

The instructor leaned on my shoulder as I swapped magazines.
“And pigeons?”
“Shot nine out of ten.”
“You really are a talent.”
“Not a genius?”
“‘Genius’ we say about the hunters.”

They hit nineteen out of twenty—so they said. Me, probably eighteen. I clicked my tongue, shouldered again.

Then, curiosity slipped out.
“What about Chae Wonu?”
“What?”
“My partner. Hunter Chae. What’s his marksmanship like?”
“….”

The instructor fell silent, tugged his cap off, then fixed it again.
“He doesn’t take gun drills.”
“…Why?”

I fired, missed.

“Not issued magazines?”

Another round. Another miss.

The more I learned of him, the less I knew. It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand—it was that I was barred from understanding. The information they gave me was just enough to be useless.

So then—what was so dangerous I couldn’t know? What made him unlike other hunters, when I couldn’t see a difference at all?

I scowled, squeezed again. Missed. Again.

“The rest, I will hit.”

Always—margin for one. One bullet out of ten you could miss and still live, if lucky. More than one? You were dead. So I missed no more.

Truth was, the answer wasn’t skill but luck. My fingers brushed my chest—his necklace pressed warm against my collarbone.

Shooting drills wore you harder, longer than you guessed. Stationary, moving, VR combined, until my arms tingled, my shoulder ached.

Showered, stepped out—it was late afternoon. Hunger gnawed. I usually ate alone. But today… I felt I shouldn’t. Maybe because of breakfast. Or maybe because that necklace sat nearer to heart than before.

“The hell. Why isn’t he picking up.”

Trouble—my partner’s schedule? A mystery. Partners were supposed to share everything, but with him it was blanks. Surely he wasn’t on the fourth floor all day.

At the dining hall crossroads, I leaned on my chin idly—and spotted a troop of hunters.

“Excuse me.”

I planted a polite, public smile. They eyed me suspiciously—but showed my wristband: “Guide.” They relaxed.

“What’s wrong?”
“I’m due for matching exercises, but can’t reach my partner. Lost his schedule—bad luck. Know our times aren’t the same, but have you seen him?”

Everything but that first question was a lie. But to lie straight, wet lips first.

They glanced among themselves, shrugged.
“Name?”
“Chae Wonu.”

The moment his name left my mouth, their faces soured.

Should I have lied about that too? Then how would I find him?

“You’re his partner?”
“…Yes.”
“Ha. So that bastard finally got partnered.”

Their derision was barely disguised.

“What—so close you call him that? Must be tight, huh? Me, I’ve not known him long enough to toss around curses. Can’t track him down at all. Thought maybe you could help.”

“What? You think we’re friends?”
“You called him bastard. Usually, you only talk like that when you’re real close, no?”

Not true, of course. But I tilted my head with faux cheer, explained playfully like it was natural. Their faces twisted darker. To crown the act, I slung an arm on one man’s shoulder, grinning.

“Shall we grow close, then? Be such friends we call each other bastards too?”

Their reaction was immediate, furious. I smiled wide, knowing I’d pushed. One step back—I wasn’t here to start brawls.

“So—you don’t know. Sorry to bother!”
“You… you bastard. Wait till you and Wonu both—”
“Oh? Then we’re friends already. Karaoke next time with the three of us, yeah? But first I’ll find him myself.”

I slipped through them cheerfully, bowed slightly. They wouldn’t dare strike me outright—hitting another’s Guide was unthinkable, same as insulting a partner to a partner’s face.

Still, I chuckled inwardly as I walked away.
“Busy as ever, making enemies everywhere, that kid.”

Dungeons alone weren’t enough… he had to provoke people topside too.